#started as a crack theory and became a full au

[crunchyorochiru]

Reincarnated Setsuna AU

Explanation below, also this is based on Setsuna's original story and appearance from Rinne's lore scroll.

I can't help but notice they both have short purple hair and pink clothes

Setsuna in the lore scroll gives Maria Robotnik (kind and sweet) vibes, but it's not hard to imagine this is just how Rinne remembers/thinks of her

In reality, Setsuna could've been more like Hailey. Her unabashed geekiness, her talkativeness, her passion and dedication to the things she loves, all of that could still be found in Setsuna, but more subdued due to the difference in environment

Setsuna's parents were abusive and hated that she could see yokai. Growing up in an environment like that, ofc she wouldn't be as loud or talkative. Meanwhile, in her next life as Hailey, her parents are supportive of her interests. As a result, her natural personality flourishes, and we're able to see her unabashed geekiness

Hailey's favorite Sailor Cutie has pink hair... maybe it reminds her of a long forgotten friend from a past life

The biggest thing about this AU is the angst potential. Like it's been hundreds of years, Rinne is still trying to get revenge against the Enma clan, and it's been so long that his childhood friend reincarnated. Not only that, but her reincarnation has befriended the current Lord Enma

It's even sadder if they first reunite at the Goku Yomakai tournament. Tldr, the criminal Goku yokai hijack a martial arts tournament and plan to kill Lord Enma if the winner can't beat Extreme Venoct. Assuming the winner is a watchholder, the watchholder would be Hailey in this AU. Rinne might not connect the dots about Setsuna's reincaration immediately, but seeing his plans fail to a purple-haired bobcut girl who's about the same age as when Setsuna was would cause a crisis. Meanwhile for Hailey, Rinne seems oddly familiar to her, but since she doesn't remember her past life, she thinks he just reminds her of a character she can't think of immediately...

[thefandomenchantress]

I NEED TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR ACE WRITING HEADCANON RIGHT. NOW.

Oh okay! Well, I already made my original crack theory in this post. In it, I assumed that Ace would live for a while longer, and since Ace can't really have a happy ending as a jockey, I thought maybe they'd set it up for him to have another interest he could pursue, that being writing. I came to that conclusion by using the fact that Ace had a good vocabulary, for seemingly no reason (now that I think about it, I don't think we ever got an explanation or purpose for it outside of a joke). Authors are one of few professions I could think of where a large vocabulary would be especially helpful. And I figured the only reason he wouldn't tell anyone about a talent like that is if he wrote something he thought was embarrassing, like romance. And so, my crack theory that Ace was an aspiring romance author was born (as well as him reading romance novels haha). But yeah, if you want the full theory go check that one out.

While Ace obviously can't have an arc where he pursues his love of writing anymore, I still think the fact that the creator chose for Ace to be the one to make that carousel comment is interesting. After all, him misspelling responsible in his note to Arei would imply he wouldn't have an interest in language, but maybe he's just really bad at spelling and spellcheck is his lord and savior while writing (relatable honestly). Anyways, I think that if anyone, including me, wants to use it as proof he'd be good at English-y things like writing, they can!

I actually made a few different versions of this theory. One fun version I never posted about was a version where instead of being the Ultimate Jockey who happens to like writing, he had two Ultimate talents, the other being the Ultimate Romance Author. But that one was so unrealistic I knew I would never be able to call it an even slightly plausible theory, so I haven't really told the masses about it until now. It felt so self-indulgent that I thought people would think it was cringy. But now I've overcome that, and I will freely write about my stupid ideas haha. Though I'd call this less of a theory and more of an AU.

The AU's backstory would be something like this: So, Ace is writing a book, and (unlike me) actually manages to finish it. He's planning to never share it with anyone ever, but his older sister sees him writing and really wants to read it. After she wore him down for a week or so, he relents and lets her read it, warning her it's very bad and that she will be scarred for life. However, she actually really likes it, and suggests Ace should see if he could get it published for real. She knows that Ace hates jockeying, and she wants to encourage him to pursue his other interests. Ace is, once again, very unsure and doesn't really know if he wants to share it with anyone else, but she manages to convince him.

After they found a company willing to publish it, they did all the book-publishing things like editing and making the final draft and such. And finally, his book was published. However, Ace is very against using his real name and insists on using a fake one. So he picks a generic female name he knows no one will ever think to connect to him as a pseudonym. The book is published, and after a slow start, his sister checks on how the book is doing and realizes it made it to being the #1 best-seller, and her and Ace freak out about it. She's freaking out because she's happy for Ace and his success, meanwhile Ace is freaking out because he's terrified that if it gets too popular people will try to track down the author and realize he wrote it.

Luckily, that never happens, but his book was such an amazing success that the publishing company says they'd be happy to publish another one of his books. Ace figures that he would make a lot of money, and he does like writing, so he tries writing another one. This one is also a success, and so the process repeated until he became a very well-renowned author by complete accident.

Since he's being hailed as one of the best authors of his generation and the 'about the author' section of his book claimed he was within the age range of their program, Hope's Peak thought he would be perfect for their Ultimate Romance Author title. So, they did what Hope's Peak always does: Get what they want through extremely sketchy means. And so, through their mysterious means, they gather information and realize Ace is the author they're looking for. While they were already planning to give him the Ultimate Jockey title, they don't want to let go of the opportunity of being able to claim one of the most successful authors in the current age is attending their school, and give him the Ultimate Romance Author title as well.

Ace could maybe deal with telling people about that title if it was just the Ultimate Author, since he could simply refuse to mention what he wrote and let others think that him having two titles was really awesome and cool and badass. However, Hope's Peak specifying that he was a romance author ensured he would never tell anyone, because they'd totally laugh and tell everyone else in the world and he'd be a joke forever (at least in his mind). Plus, he doesn't want to risk the public figuring out his real name, he hates the idea of being famous, it stresses him out (and he likes feeling mysterious, people talking about him like he's this other-worldly enigma makes him feel cool haha). Hope's Peak appreciates (and perhaps intended) that he won't tell anyone he has two talents, because they don't want to deal with the backlash from other Ultimates who think they deserve two as well. It'd get complicated fast.

And so, Ace was doomed to try (and fail) to act totally chill and casual whenever a classmate mentions "that author" who was supposed to be at the school this year and wonder where/who she is or discuss her books. Luckily, only Whit seemed to notice and he just assumed Ace must secretly like her books or something and teased him about it.

...That wasn't meant to get so long, but that idea has been brewing in my head with nowhere to go for a while, haha.

Anyways, like I said, Ace can't have an arc about liking writing or anything anymore, but I still headcanon him as liking it. He likes writing romance because writing is supposed to be an activity that distracts him from stress, and anything too action-packed or super dark wouldn't achieve that. So instead, it's cute little stories where his characters always have a happy ending and end up together, despite everything.

To him, jockeying always felt like something he did out of obligation and was only good at because of luck or pure determination rather than actually building up skill over time. And of course, it really stressed him out. He likes writing because he chose to do it, and he chooses to keep doing it and improve over time. He didn't just start doing it one day and found it really easy, he had to keep working on it. It feels like it's his, and no one else can take it from him. People can control him all they want, but no one can control this one thing, this one hobby, and what he does with it. He controls what happens in the story, he controls how much writing he feels like he wants to do each day, and he controls if he would ever want to take it more seriously as a career option. And he really likes that about it.

(I also think it's funny to imagine he writes fanfiction, too, he'd totally be one of those authors who writes author's notes like: "Sorry I didn't update yesterday, I fell off a horse and broke my leg :/").

...And that's pretty much it, I guess. I really like this headcanon, if you couldn't tell, haha. Thanks for asking about it! :D

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

you+me+the Devil, m | myg, jjk | collect

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: The mind seeks to understand, to categorize, to make something out of nothing. You are a vessel of this Disorder, driven to collect the final two souls your body is tasked to hold. One, the right-hand of the Devil, Jeon Jungkook. And two, the Devil himself, Min Yoongi. How to obtain them? By fucking, but on the Devil's terms, because when the Devil is involved, his domain regains supreme.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language - if you're religious, maybe skip this one; world building; supernatural and horror (extra arms / hands, eyeballs, mouths); smut (fem reader, unprotected sex (you're getting fucked by the Devil, STIs and pregnancy are the last of your problems), a collar and leash is involved, voyeurism, scratching / marking, choking, nipple play, cowgirl, creampie, m and f-receiving oral, double penetration, (double?) handjob, penetrative sex on top of a puddle of cum on JK's abs, spanking); non-idol!AU - Hell!AU; Devil!Yoongi x chaos!reader x Devil's right-hand demon!Jungkook and switches between their POVs

yes, you read the horror warning correctly

–

you and me and the Devil makes 3 prologue | the summoning | the collection | 666

-

if you get in bed, someone will fall in love

The Disorder is a strange thing.

The world attempts to make sense of and organize things as if it knows. Everything must have a reason, an explanation, a why, until you get deeper and deeper, realizing biology is only chemistry, and chemistry is only physics, and physics is only math, and math is… simply theory. A hope of truth, clawing together the chaos. But the real truth is, all order comes from disorder. To organize means to be disorganized from the start.

Beings of Order are not supposed to touch Disorder, not directly. It trickles down, slowly flowing though, a part of life everyone has, but no one can harness. Senseless moments brushed off as nothing. To encounter such a concentrated form, well, surely, nothing good can come of it.

Then again.

The Devil wasn’t good. Far from it.

Would he learn anything at all? Doubtful. Did he care? No. But he had time. He had forever. And he had souls, for he could consume them, an amalgamation of all the previous consumptions combined. The original Devil. The many faces thereafter. The current, Min Yoongi. If all you wanted was a little piece of one, well, he wouldn’t even miss it.

Jeon Jungkook?

His right-hand demon would lose a soul shard and become yours, just like the rest of them. Infatuated, consumed, blinded. He was a fool for agreeing so easily, clouded by anger and lust. But that was no matter. If eventually the Devil decided he wanted to change faces, it would no longer be a problem.

Yoongi had plans.

He would see them through.

-

You sat in the center of the bed, holding the black goat-man plush to your chest, squeezing his leather hooves, legs tucked under you.

They were at the end of the bed.

Jeon Jungkook, long black hair in messy and tangled curls, clinging to his cheeks and forehead. A cut on his high, tanned cheekbone from fighting the chains, dark red blood coagulated. Sharp jaw tensed, borderline fury and uninhibited deviance. Dark brown eyes with an exquisite shape, forever memorable. His black suit was torn up, blazer and dress shirt hanging by threads and exposing his toned chest. He made no move to correct it.

The Devil's right hand.

Your gaze shifted to the Devil.

Shorter black hair, pointed, more intrusive dark eyes. Paler, standing out against the black. The faintest trace of a smile on pink lips, a face with predatory feline grace. He was shorter than Jungkook, not as heavily built. Slim and sharpened, deadly like a sword. Hands in his pockets, suit pristine. There was no mistaking who was in charge here.

You squished the goat-man to your breasts.

The human heart was beating.

Singing.

Fuck me.

-

"Hyung."

Yoongi was observing you carefully.

"What is she?"

The Devil chuckled. "Does it matter? You love to fuck."

"But she has the soul shards of the five highest ranking demons in Hell," Jungkook hissed in his ear. Goosebumps on his skin at the younger demon's hot breath. Yoongi felt the sides of his lips curve upwards, tilting his head slightly so Jungkook's voice drifted on more of his neck. Still not looking at him, eyes on yours.

You kept pushing the plush into your chest, dark lips parting.

Jungkook stepped closer, body barely brushing against his, body heat radiating. "Why does she have them? Where are they?" he breathed, head lowering, so close his black hair feathered onto the Devil's neck, his lips almost touching Yoongi's skin.

Yoongi's eyes bored into yours, his own flaring with sparks of red. Voice deepening, taking up the whole room. He doubted you would be affected by his persuasive power. It wasn't for your sake.

"Show me the shards."

Jungkook moaned softly in his ear, shuddering.

You smiled that little smile. Yoongi held up a hand, preventing Jungkook from touching him. The younger demon whined, but he paid it no mind. You lowered the little goat-man, placing him on the nightstand.

To watch.

You reached to the high collar, to the zipper of the dress. The pull was shaped like a cross. Yoongi’s smile widened. A cute joke. Down it went, smooth, revealing your neck, waiting to be bitten. Exposing your collarbones, a small tattoo in the center just below them, at the top of your sternum.

Now the Devil was grinning.

An upside-down pentagram with two rings around it. Black. Simple. Most likely christened on that smooth skin before you became what you are now. A sweet little foreshadowing.

Lower.

Then Yoongi’s expression hardened.

Right below the tattoo, there they were. Thin diamonds, needle-like black gems that gleamed red and purple, pulsing as if they were alive, embedded in your skin below your tattoo and above the swell of your breasts. The demon soul shards, five of them in a semicircle, with an empty space at the center and one at the bottom left, not yet filled. Your flesh was indented in those two spots, clearly waiting for Jeon Jungkook and the Devil.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, removing his hands from his pockets.

They were part of you.

That made you a human, bedded with shards of high demon soul, soiled with Disorder. Yoongi eyes widened, realization streaking through him. Something flickered in the vacancy of your eyes, torn back down by ice-silver. Like a spider’s web suspended delicately in air, you were wound with silken string, demon soul shards penetrating the human shell.

Is that what was keeping you, the Vessel, from collapsing?

The four horns protruded from Yoongi’s head, black-red and wicked. He narrowed his eyes as you lowered the zipper more, revealing the black lace bra molded to your breasts.

“Let me bring part of me to you,” he rasped, the power soaring through him, dark smoke simmering from his lips. He heard Jungkook suck in a tight breath, pressing himself against Yoongi, drawn to the power, intoxicated by it.

The Devil’s voice boomed, resonating to an inhuman octave.

“Domain Expansion: Devil’s Advocate.”

The room rippled, his power manifesting in time and space, creating a pocket of Hell itself. Black shadows wrenched open every crack, snaking out and crawling all over, long spider-liker arms ending in elongated claws, skittering, skittering, rushing towards the bed, pawing at the black sheets. Advancing on you, threatening, more and more and more, black shadows twisting and writhing, trying to get to your legs. The air shimmered with red, almost as if it was on fire.

You tilted your head, pausing.

Seams on the thin shadowy arms opened, bloodshot eyes rolling in their sockets until they fixated on your form on the bed, quivering slits of black pupils surrounded by red irises. The hands sank into the sheets, claws flexing, almost touching you.

But not quite.

“Jungkook, leash her.”

Like a black arrow, Jungkook lunged at the bed, launching himself above the eyeball-covered shadows, crushing them, sending jets of gushing blood across the sheets, soaking them red, and yet the hands stroked his muscular fit body, lingering before he appeared before you, dark brown orbs gleaming with red and black flecks, his power amplified by Yoongi bringing Hell to the surface. His horns protruded from the sides of his head, swirled like ram’s horns, blacker than they were red. They were large and sharp, framing his strong features with more strength.

His hand raised, voracious grin on his face.

“Let’s begin, pet.”

And then it was on your throat, you gasping in his tightening grasp, cutting off your circulation, hands falling into your lap, leaning into Jungkook’s hold. He hesitated, seeing the look in your eyes. They weren’t void of emotion.

An ice-silver shimmered through them, and there was a flicker of something.

Need.

You dug your fingers into the bed and whimpered, catching your lower lip between your teeth, gazing at him with half-lidded eyes.

“J… Jungkook…”

He pulled his hand away, but it was already done, the thick black leather collar on your neck, imprinted with red pentagrams and a silver center ring, black leather leash extending in Jungkook’s fingers, tangling him in it. It had already begun and the lust was brimming within him, insatiable, eager to consume, no longer worried about that small flicker of humanity he might have imagined. To be a demon is to be cursed to feel, emotion and free will entangled, a servant of the Devil but not without indulgence.

Full of sin and prepared to act on it.

Jungkook grinned, long black hair wild and curled around his horns.

“What’s your name, pretty pet?” he purred, flicking his middle finger on your chin, your dark mauve lips parting, looking up at him.

You told him.

He savored it with his lips, already aroused by it. He lowered the hand with the leash, snaking it between your legs, lowering his face to you and your hot breath, moaning at the intensity of the feeling, not quite human, but something more and something familiar, demon lust and human reaction mixed with an unknown drug.

Jungkook loved to fuck.

“Can’t wait to make you my plaything,” he breathed against your cheek.

You whined as his hand trailed down your ass, pulling out the end of the leash between your legs, gripping it from the front and back, snapping it up into your clothed pussy. A loud, sharp slap cracked the air as it connected, making you moan depravedly and tremble in his hands, your own coming up to grab his torn shirt. He ground the leash into the folds of the clothing, hot friction and unforgiving leather. He could feel it, the pleasure and the pain radiating off you, sparks of heat as you bucked down into the strap, the sweet scent your juices soaking through your panties.

Jungkook inhaled deeply, the taste at the tip of his tongue, shoulders shaking at the scent of sex, invigorating his veins, heart racing. Your fingernails dug into his chest, your eyes reflecting his high, his pleasure in abusing your pussy, tainting you with him in this Hell domain.

The Devil leaned over, tongue sliding out. Jungkook stiffened, biting his lip, watching intently as Yoongi neared, closer and closer to your ear. When was the last time Jungkook was allowed to indulge with the Devil? Even if it wasn’t, it felt like forever ago. Too long. His blood was boiling, singing to the Devil, praying for more.

Yoongi’s dark eyes shifted to him for a moment.

Jungkook’s lower lip popped out of his teeth, small whine in his chest.

-

The Devil smiled knowingly, leaning even farther in so his soft lips brushed against your earlobe, the taste of your skin on his wicked tongue. An interesting taste, but distinctly human. Yoongi sighed in satisfaction, nearly a moan, eyes shifting back to your profile. You were staring at Jungkook and Jungkook was staring at him.

“Five demons this body has withstood.”

The thought made him hard.

“What’s two more?” Yoongi chuckled deep in his chest, placing his hand on your heaving chest, right above the soul shards.

No.

It hovered, the faintest sliver of space between his hand and your breasts. The more he pushed, the more it pushed back, gleaming sparks scalding his palm. Yoongi gritted his teeth, seeing the black tendrils laced with ice-silver snake around his fingers. The scent of burning flesh stained the air. Not holy magic. Something else. Something far less controlled. The Devil could feel pain, but it was nothing more than fuel for his emotions, a means to an end.

You lowered more of your weight onto the leash, moaning as the leather dug in deeper, the scent of sex stronger, rocking your hips back and forth. Yoongi suddenly felt the pain lessen, the black tendrils retreating, ice-silver fading into nothing. His eyebrows raised, fascinated. The introduction of passion and your human body reacting to it. The disembodied black arms around them scabbed around, nonsensical red eyes veering in all directions, crawling across the sheets, desperate to touch and soil the human.

His palm was getting closer.

Closer.

Closer to your chest.

Yoongi’s hand touched your shuddering breast.

Instantly the shadowy, eyeball-covered hands were on your body, clawing at your clothes, caressing your skin, up your back and to your head, pulling you by the hair and making you moan, Jungkook completely letting go of the leash and placing his hands on your breasts, one over Yoongi’s, curling the Devil’s fingers under the lace cup, pulling hard.

Yoongi made no move to stop him.

Jungkook ripped your bra apart, sucking in a tight breath as your breasts bounced free, diving down to latch his lips onto them, his hot mouth to your cool skin, moaning at the taste of human mixed with demon, the five shards on your chest glimmering, his five hyungs infused into this body with the exception of the Devil himself.

“Fuuuuuuuck…”

He shoved his hands under the ribbons of your dress and yanked your body up to his greedy mouth, biting and lapping at your skin, flickering his tongue over your nipples, your hands finding his shoulders, wanton whimpers quivering from your chest to Jungkook’s mouth. He drank it all up, the sweet taste of flesh, the heavy scent of sex, the sound of tainted lust, whining as his shirt was torn to bits by exploring shadowy hands. The Devil’s work. Jungkook looked up to see Yoongi on the other side of you, one of his pale hands in your hair and the other pushing your chin back, his head descending.

“A kiss from Hell, just for you,” Yoongi murmured.

The Devil’s lips on yours.

You audibly moaned right into Yoongi’s mouth as he tilted his head, fitting his lips to your dark mauve ones, soft but rough, tongue sliding in, fucking you with it, slow and maddening, the aphrodisiac of his kiss turning even the most prudish of humans into a sobbing mess, begging and pleading for more.

But, as he suspected, you were no ordinary human.

Your tongue wound around his, pressing your lips harder to his despite his hold on your hair, exhaling in his mouth, intoxicating all on its own, pushing your chest into Jungkook’s face, your arms held back by Hell’s shadows, your muscles tense and shivering.

Yoongi felt it, the hot spark of near pain.

You could break out at any time.

Yoongi broke the kiss, breathing hard, his eyes finding yours. Like small mirrors, they reflected himself back. And yet. There was definitely something underneath that standing water. Poison? Or something else?

Jungkook grabbed your chin and kissed you hard, moaning at your taste and the Devil’s lingering saliva.

“Yes, fuck, yes…”

Your dress ripped apart, the demon hands doing the Devil’s work, leaving red scratches on your skin, Jungkook doing the rest, rough fingers shoving the fabric scraps out of the way, bits of your bra thrown aside, shreds of black adding to the shadows already surrounding the bed. All eyes on you and your exposed body in Jungkook’s arms, his hard bare chest pressing into yours, skin to hot skin, lifting you like a doll, one hand winding around the leash.

Kissing you like he owned you, already his possession by the way you gasped into his mouth, breathless as he took your sweet exhale with his fiery inhale, his fingernails scraping down your back.

“Stop playing around,” the Devil commanded harshly.

Jungkook started, breaking the kiss as the shadowy arms encircled him and you, locking your bodies in a tight embrace. The red eyes in the shadows flickered, blinking, morphing, changing.

Into mouths.

Into tongues.

“H-Hyung…!”

Yoongi smirked behind your head, eyebrow cocked as Jungkook shuddered and moaned, red forked tongues from ghostly arms flickering across his skin, grasping you so tightly that you whined against his chest, the tongues on you too, drenching you in swipes of Hell’s saliva.

As if the Devil himself was licking you, but all over.

“Hyung, w-wait…” Jungkook managed to get out, hands on your shoulders.

Like two star crossed lovers, except one was a demon and one barely had any humanity left.

Yoongi cracked his neck, grinning widely, all malice and no mirth.

Devilishly, even.

“Can’t wait any longer. I just have to know.”

The Devil’s hands swooped down, twisting between your body and Jungkook’s, undoing the button and the zipper of Jungkook’s slacks impossibly fast, the shadows aiding him, pulling them down, ripping apart the underwear, Jungkook gasping as Yoongi’s long fingers closed around his hard, leaking cock.

“Ah, don’t–”

But it was too late, the Devil’s hand wrapped around him, pleasure sprinting through his veins and swarming every nerve, Yoongi’s other hand pushing your wet heat closer, closer, dark chuckles and fiendish words invading his senses, the Devil himself pulling all his strings.

“Ah, I know all the things you like, Jungkookie…” Yoongi drawled, placing the head against your slit, coating it with your slick but not letting Jungkook enter you, making the younger demon growl with want. “I know you love playing with the humans for hours…” Leaning in, putting his face above your left shoulder, hovering with a sinister smirk. “And I know you secretly love it when you’re being forced to do something.”

The Devil’s pink tongue snaking out, licking Jungkook’s cheek, making him moan in your face and lean his forehead against yours, the lust overwhelming, unable to move due to the shadowy mouth-covered arms and the Devil’s power. Your body trembled in his embrace, your whimpers against Jungkook’s lips and Yoongi’s cruel, raspy laughter ringing in his ears as Jungkook’s cock swelled in his hand.

“You just love it when it’s me ordering you around, don’t you, Jungkook?”

Jungkook was staring in your eyes, seeing his own desperation and shameful happiness reflected back at him, admitting the truth because there was nothing he could hide from the Devil.

“Y… Yes, hyung,” he breathed into your mouth.

Yoongi let go of his cock the same time he pushed your dripping core onto Jungkook, sinking you all the way down, two simultaneous moaning screams intertwining and filling up the entire room infested with Hell’s domain.

-

Inside.

You felt it, a tiny pulse.

You looked around in the abyss, not expecting to see anything.

How long had you been here? Ah, did it matter? Nothing mattered. In this world, there was only emptiness. You saw nothing, heard nothing, remembered nothing, cared about nothing. If there was no sadness, there was no happiness. If there was no existence, there was nothing to worry about, cry about, feel pain about. Nothing to live for. Nothing at all.

And yet.

You had sensed something.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You looked up.

Four black horns adorning a head of black hair and fair skin, lips peeled back, eyes glittering.

Menace. Amusement. Glee. Lust. Fascination.

Passion.

Who was that?

You squinted.

You… had eyes.

And suddenly it all rushed to the surface, jammed into sensory overload, tongues on your skin, heat overwhelming, a sweaty cheek pressed against yours, your chest prickling with sensitivity, pain from a tight embrace, and you gasped a lungful of air as you felt the demon’s cock enter your tight, wet hole, saturated with arousal, eye to eye with blazing dark brown orbs surrounded by wet black curls, your pussy stretched too far too fast, but adrenaline adapting the pain into even more pleasure.

Felt.

You could feel everything.

“J-Jungkook…”

Words.

You could hear the demon’s lips curve into a wicked grin.

“I love it when you’re whimpering my name, pet,” he drawled.

There was nothing to wonder about. No desire to know your past or if you had a future, no desire to know why you were here, what was going on, not even the need to know how you were aware of the demon before you and his name, Jeon Jungkook.

There was only one goal.

Chasing all aspects of pleasure and passion.

The shadows around your two retreated slowly, forked red tongues sliding back into shadowy pits surrounded by crevices slashed on black disembodied arms, but none of that mattered as you leaned in to Jungkook’s face, hands rising to grip his shoulders, cracking pleas in your throat at the sensation of being too full and sensory overload dominated by lust.

“F-Fuck me, please…” you panted, adjusting to straddle his lap better, his raw cock twitching against your throbbing walls. “Please, Jungkook…”

His hands were on your shoulders, his head lifting and eyebrow cocking, arrogant expression on his face.

“Of course, my little human.”

He lowered his hips, nearly pulling out, leaving you in a whine, almost empty before roughly shoving himself back in, filling you all the way to maximum ecstasy igniting all of your nerves, your nails digging into his skin and a choked moan as you took it all, straining against the brink of almost too much but not quite.

Utter perfection.

How did he know?

He didn’t.

Jungkook was a demon. And demons intuitively delivered the exact amount, instinctually sensing how the human body desired more, every brutal stroke a delicate balance of pain and pleasure, every rock of his hips matching yours, you involuntarily bouncing on his cock with his hard thighs in between your soft ones, cries bubbling from your throat. Every rush of stimulation potent, Jungkook panting intoxicatingly in your face and you drinking it up like a starved hyena, your hands clawing up, tangling in his hair, gripping the curved black horns on the sides of his beautiful head, staring into his enchanting eyes.

The demon smiled at you, almost lovingly, as he fucked you raw from below.

“That’s it…”

Rising from Jungkook’s left shoulder, four horns and glittering dark eyes.

A devious, open-mouthed smirk.

Your grip on Jungkook’s horns tightened, staring into this new, yet familiar gaze. A smokey whisper, rasp infesting your eardrums, reaching in to the humanity inside you. Your ice-silver irises reflected in the endless darkness of those ravenous orbs.

“Fuck him harder,” the Devil coaxed.

Sin.

“Yes,” you breathed.

Body automatically reacting, crashing your mouth into Jungkook’s, wild kiss punctuated by your hips smacking down hard onto his crotch, walls clenching around his stiff length, his moan and words filling your lungs.

“H-Hyung, fuck!”

You threw your weight onto him, slapping your hips together violently, repeatedly, biting his lower lip and sucking on it, pressing his body into the Devil, Jungkook’s nails digging into your shoulders and his cock swelling inside you. Pale hands coming up to grip Jungkook’s broad, tan shoulders, pink tongue sliding out and stroking the demon’s ear wetly, scorching breath on your fingers.

“Take it,” was the animalistic growl from those perfect pink lips, the low octave on an otherworldly level. “Cum in that pretty little pussy. Warm it up for me, Jungkookie.”

So hard, turning you so wet, greedy kisses and bites not enough, more, more, Jungkook groaning and powerfully thrusting up as you squelched down, splattering your juices all over his balls, pussy throbbing with the intensity of pleasure, staring into beautiful eyes and the hauntingly handsome angles of Jungkook’s face soaked with sweat on glistening tan skin, one of his hands grabbing your head and kissing you back with just as much fervor, filling you again and again, your name dancing on his lips.

“Yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me, you humans are so fucking good at serving us…”

“J-Jungkook, ah, f-fuck… I–”

“Give it to me, give it to me, delicious little pet,” he growled in your throat, harder, faster, rougher, racing to the edge and flying off.

A millisecond of euphoria.

You gasped out his name, saturated in mindless ecstasy.

“Jungkook.”

The Chaos swallowed you up, leaving you in nothingness once more.

-

Yoongi noticed it immediately.

He could feel it course through him, your orgasm explosive and mixing with Jungkook’s crescendo, invading the Devil’s senses and igniting throughout his body, feeding off of every throb of your pussy as Jungkook moaned and pumped you full of his hot cum, packing you with demon seed that your human body could do absolutely nothing with, soaking it into your abused walls, painting your sweetness with his heat.

Demons purely had sex with humans for the sake of pleasure. Nothing could come of it other than the obscenity in enjoying primal passion.

Fucking delightful.

Palpable and intense, Yoongi’s tongue slid out and tasted the air, his hands moving up and caressing Jungkook’s horns, making the younger demon shudder and squirm with pleasure, rutting into you more, squishing his thick cum around inside you, your eyelids fluttering and shivering gasps grasping your lungs.

But your eyes.

While you were fucking Jungkook, your eyes had turned that icy silver.

Now your irises were that reflective mirror.

The Devil felt it.

A pulse.

Jungkook’s naked body trembling against his, tantalizing moan implanted with lust incarnate, lost in the throes of passion, unable to get out until his orgasm was over. His voice sounded thin as if there was pressure in his ribcage.

Yoongi looked down at Jungkook’s heaving chest.

It was glowing.

He couldn’t stop it.

Spider-silk thin strands of ice-silver plunging inwards, needles of power forcing its way inside Jungkook’s chest cavity, all the way in. Yoongi was so close that he himself could feel it, the power of his domain letting him feel everything that happened within, from your passion to Jungkook’s desire, and now he could feel the needles pouring in, chipping away at the vibrant demon soul of Jeon Jungkook.

Collecting.

Jungkook whimpered, head falling against Yoongi’s shoulder, turning his head to kiss the Devil’s cheek.

“H… Hyung…”

The slim, black-red diamond extracted from Jungkook’s chest in glimmering lines of ice-silver, suspending it in the air, so spellbinding that even Yoongi could do nothing but watch in awe, the strings winding around the shard of demon soul and affixing it to your chest, the spot to the bottom left below the center. Six now, the filled semicircle underneath your pentagram tattoo, center empty.

The shadowy arms, covered with red eyeballs and tongues, rose.

Your eyes reopened, cracks of ice silver in those vacant irises.

Now, the Devil, Min Yoongi, understood.

What were demons cursed with?

Emotion and free will.

The Vessel was using the soul shards to stabilize the Disorder. The human body was too weak alone and those high above had nothing to give, for they gave away all they had to serve his father. That’s why you needed demon soul. Not just any demon soul, but the six most powerful ones, driven to finalize your collection with the most powerful of them all to contain what was within.

The Entropy.

The Chaos.

A slow, greedy grin graced his lips.

How interesting.

-

A tiny blip.

You had one piece of knowledge. Six.

In the nothingness, the only knowledge you possessed was the number six.

Six.

Six.

Six.

The resurfacing.

You gasped for air, lungs expanding forcefully, chest burning and heart racing, sensory overload, knowing only what you needed to know, the demon Jeon Jungkook in front of you once again, except this time he was leaning against the headboard, breathing hard, his tan shoulders crisscrossed in red from your nails, his two curved black horns luminous, arrogant smirk on his face.

You were on your hands and knees.

No.

Your arms were being held up by dark shadows of disembodied hands, eyes and tongues surrounding you, shoulders bowing a little from the strain, but not enough to be unbearable.

Jungkook licked his lips, slow, glossing them with wetness.

“Pretty pet,” he purred, gripping the leash and tugging on it, your breath dying in your throat, circulation cut off by the leather cutting into the sides of your neck. “Don’t waste any of it now, or you’ll anger him.”

Dancing fingers sliding up your hips, the space in between your legs achingly sore and full, but demanding more punishment, unable to look back to see, but already knowing who it was. You whimpered in your throat, shuddering at the light touch.

Jungkook quirked his eyebrows. “You’re right, little pet.” He yanked your body to his lap, jerking you forward unforgivingly, forcing you to stumble, the hands on your hips holding you up, your arms jostling in the grip of the shadows, their forked tongues swiping across your skin.

“That mouth needs something to fill it too, doesn’t it?” Jungkook drawled dangerously.

Your eyes widened, the scent of sex attacking your nose.

“Down,” he snarled.

You gasped, the grip on your neck lessening, Jungkook’s large hand fitting behind your head and forcing you to lower, your open mouth suddenly filled with his already rock-hard, cum-covered cock, yours and his, sex painting your tongue, swallowing his huge length in one gulp, tip engorging in the back of your throat, filling it to the brim of near-choking, but not quite.

Leaving you on the edge.

The edge of too much and not enough.

Perfection.

“I love to fuck,” Jungkook sighed above you, audibly savoring the feeling of your tight mouth around his length, your shaking eyes looking up at him. “And I’m the second best at it.”

He was.

You didn’t have to wonder. You just knew.

He leaned down, his thumb caressing your forehead. “Guess who is the best, pet?”

You yelped around his cock as forked tongues brushed against your flesh, shadows squeezing and kneading your beasts, latching onto your already hard nipples and stimulating them, pinching and tugging at the sensitive nubs. Jungkook’s naughty smirk was right in front of your face, his hardness twitching and pulsing in your mouth, those hands on your hips tightening, the velvety hard head of another cock skimming your cum-soaked folds, slicking with your juices.

Jungkook’s long fingers curled in your hair, gripping your scalp.

His voice a silvery, perilously low octave.

“The Devil.”

The familiar, raspy chuckle drenched in deviance.

“That’s right.”

Jungkook pulled out and roughly thrust in your face the same time the Devil slammed his cock into you, your eyes flying wide, Jungkook’s previous orgasm stuffed back into you by a different cock, slippery lewd squishes of too much thick liquid expanding your walls. Your pussy and mouth both clamped down on the two cocks, Jungkook’s swollen head ramming into the back of your throat, the Devil…

Holy shit, the Devil.

Whereas Jungkook’s cock responded to your body’s needs and kept it at the teetering maximum of lustful pleasure, the Devil had you suspended on his puppet strings, slow pace agonizingly teasing an orgasm out of you, fast pace tearing another out, rough pace amplifying yet another out, every one feeling like an eternity and leaving you craving more, the true meaning of insatiability, moans vibrating Jungkook’s throbbing length as your pussy convulsed from back-to-back orgasms. The surrounding shadows with bloodshot red eyes were watching you as forked tongues and shadowy hands caressed your trembling body all over, two mouths specifically latched on your nipples and one on your clit, rippling against the sensitive bundle of nerves, soaking it with saliva and sucking on it, all while Jungkook fucked your face relentlessly and the Devil drilled you from behind, grunts, groans, moans, mixed together, stifled by cock and accented by wicked slaps of flesh on flesh, all for the pure intent of only obtaining carnal pleasure and nothing else.

Unconstrained ecstasy, pure sin.

And you, suspended between torture and pain of overwhelmed senses.

“So fucking good…” Jungkook panted, black hair sweaty and sticking to his clenched jaw, dark brown eyes glinting with madness, thrusting wildly into your puffy mauve lips while harshly clutching your head, the shadows holding your body and taking the force of his movements off your neck so he could enjoy the delights of abusing your mouth without causing you pain, therefore allowing you to serve him as he pleased, keeping your throat tight for every punishing slide of his thick cock down the wet hole.

“You take me so well, little pet, almost like a demon, but human mouths are always better, so compliant and subservient. Demons are selfish, only looking out for their own pleasure, but your kind… Your kind is always begging to serve and be used.”

Jungkook caught his lower lip between his teeth, the mole underneath bouncing your vision with every plunge of his cock between your lips, large curved horns on the side of his head surrounded by long black curls, deliciously muscular torso right above you, tattoos on his right arm and shoulder flexing with his movements, the epitome of sex.

The entire time, the Devil’s cock was forcing you to new levels of pleasure you didn’t even know existed, blazing hot and intense, the ever-changing pace almost frustrating, but, somehow, he always knew what to do, speed up or slow down, harder or softer, the Devil’s trill sonata a complex and intricate mess being played, your pussy acting as the violin, coating his cock with Jungkook’s cum and yours, so much that it was spilling out and splashing onto your thighs, dripping down in sloppy squirts.

“You going to cum down that pretty throat?” the Devil drawled, his words resonating in his domain. “I want to watch you fill it up with your delicious cum so you can show me, Jungkookie.”

The young demon shuddered, intoxicated and driven by the command, his breathing swallowing, desires brimming to the surface, your name bubbling off his lips and your throat painfully sore but, oh, so good, so satisfying to be used like a toy, leather leash and collar on your neck jangling, inflamed clit pulsating as you came again with a feral moan around Jungkook’s stiff cock, pushing him over the edge with your suppressed cry, spilling into your throat with thick salty strings of his orgasm, shooting streaks all over the insides of your mouth.

“Don’t swallow,” he gritted out, jerking the last few spurts onto your tongue before removing his cock, smearing residual cum on your swollen lips. “Fuck, yes.”

He snarled and grabbed your chin, other hand on your chest to push you up, up, forcing you to arch your spine to an almost ridiculously painful level, the Devil’s pleased expression halfway in your vision.

“Open,” Jungkook growled.

You opened your cum-smeared lips, showing the Devil the thick white coating the insides of your pink tongue and abused throat, barely able to breathe, almost choking on Jungkook’s orgasm.

The Devil grinned.

“Swallow.”

You did in noisy, desperate gulps, sucking in sweet air, only for the circulation in your neck to be cut off as Jungkook hooked a finger on the collar ring and yanked it forward, his other hand and the shadows preventing your body or head from moving as he did so.

You could feel it, the Devil’s cock jolting, hitting you so deep and so satisfyingly that your eyes rolled back, vision spotting with black, completely and utterly consumed by the bodily pleasure of being forced to take exactly what you asked for.

Your name, so soft and sharp, driving deep into your pounding, rapid heartbeat, soaking your body with unholy touch, craving to be broken.

“Take it.”

The faintest of gasps, nerves a flaring wildfire as the Devil thrust his orgasm into you, euphoric in simply being pumped with his seed, the hold on your neck suddenly gone, air smashing into your lungs and the rush of oxygen making your lightheaded and dizzy, your body flinching as it attempted to drink it all up, shocks tearing through your system, forked tongues lapping up what was slipping out and another thicker, wetter tongue.

Jungkook on his belly, needy wanton moans in his chest, sucking the mixture of cum – you, himself, and the Devil pouring from between your joined crotches.

-

The ice-silver tendrils creeped from your chest, but shadowed hands forced them back.

Pain.

Yoongi could feel it in midst of the intense orgasm, the pain of his power being disintegrated, but he was no ordinary demon, he was the Devil, and no power, not even the Disorder, was going to take a shard of his soul without a fight.

No.

He pushed back against it, forcing his will upon the power unknown.

You will get your payment.

The pain subsided a little, layering with the shivering tremors of your pussy barely able to hold all that cum. Yoongi clenched his jaw, feeding on it all. He pulled out of you, his cock smacking Jungkook in the face, smearing the demon’s lips and cheeks with his still hard length, feeling the desperate tongue lap at him eagerly before he pulled away, hearing the explicit squelch as Jungkook’s mouth latched onto your pussy, devouring the cum from three beings trapped inside you.

Not until I’ve had a decent meal.

Your irises remained infested with ice-silver.

The Chaos, merely at bay, waiting for him.

-

Jungkook shoved his tongue into your sensitive hole, licking and suckling on your engorged clit as well as eating the delicious nectar, lustfully groaning at the taste of the Devil, you, and him, so flawless, a meal incomparable, his blood singing with joy.

No drop was to go to waste.

He would grovel at the Devil’s feet to have this taste forever.

-

Yoongi grabbed you by the hair and pushed you down, kneeling over Jungkook’s hips, letting the younger demon do whatever he wanted down there. He had more pressing matters.

He lowered himself, lifting Jungkook’s still-stiff cock, and dropped his dripping cock and balls on top the other, hissing in satisfaction as his hard length rubbed against Jungkook’s. Underneath you he heard a throaty, gleeful moan, your body shuddering as the sound went through you.

“Hand,” Yoongi commanded.

He grabbed your hand that his servants freed, wrapping it around the two cocks with his own long fingers, rocking his hips back and forth, too much fluid and too much slick making everything slippery, flickering tongues from the shadows adding to the mix, licking at the purple-red heads, adding saliva to the mix.

Your eyes were glued to this downright obscene display of indecent passion, mauve lips wetly parted, gasping with tremors of orgasm, two hands around two cocks and surrounded by shadows with tongues and eyes, Jungkook’s uncontrolled moaning stifled by your lush hips sitting on his beautiful face, his hips still humping your joined hands and smacking his balls into Yoongi’s, begging the Devil to let him cum and for Yoongi to cum all over his stomach as you came on his face.

The Devil chuckled.

He and you pumped together with Jungkook’s thrusting, his eyes roaming all over, drinking in the sight of his favorite demon and his new shiny toy.

No, not a toy.

His possession.

He lifted his free hand, cupping your chin forcefully, staring into your eyes.

Ice-silver, reflective glass, the original human shattered, so thoroughly intertwined and blended together with powers unknown that it was hard to tell what was what, impossible to know if they even could be separated, and Yoongi, the Devil himself, having no personal reason to bring you back from whatever you were now.

The greater good?

Heh.

The Devil cared not for such things.

“Cum for me,” he breathed hotly to your lips.

You blinked hard, gaze unfocused, the edge already in your sights, headed straight for it at an impossible speed. He watched as you tipped into free-fall, eyes rolling back, whining and moaning hoarsely as you came for the umpteenth time, soaking Jungkook’s face with your orgasm, the younger demon yelping and his cock jerking, spurting cum over his stomach with Yoongi’s mixing at the same time, the Devil sharply hissing as his cock violently shivered and pressed against your palm, shooting thick strings of white all over those sculpted abs.

Yoongi clenched his jaw, the ice-silver needles sprouting from your chest once more.

“Your… name…” you whispered, whole body trembling.

Yoongi exhaled hard, locking his glare with your fucked-out expression. The power pierced him, a bizarre feeling of euphoria and excruciating prickling, pressure unbearable, the threads of the Chaos stumbling through the massive collection of souls within him. Skittering, frantically searching.

Pain.

But not from him.

From you.

Your shaking hand rose, your voice thinning out, anguish coating your features.

It was killing you the longer he hesitated in giving you a name.

The Devil could give you any name of the souls within him. The lesser ones, the insignificant ones, the pathetic ones. The contract did not specify. That was his loophole. The ice-silver threads were tearing you up from the inside, pouring more and more into him with every second that he waited. Your fingers brushed against his cheek.

“H…”

Something shimmering in those eyes.

“He… help… me…”

The power within the Vessel a vehement storm, sadistically demanding the contract to be sealed. You were going to die if he withheld a name from you. The Devil reached up and touched your hand, holding it against his cheek.

He smiled softly.

Yoongi would not let his precious new possession die so quickly.

“Hold on,” he rasped.

The Devil pushed back.

He forced it out, taking the pain and using it to fuel his power, pushing it back, back into you, your airless shrieks trapped in your chest as the six black-red soul-shards gleamed, radiating heat.

Helping him.

Even now his six closest confidants were helping him, their small bits of demon soul rushing to his aid, collapsing onto the power of the Disorder, forcing it back, buying him more time.

Yoongi chuckled.

Guess they really were his friends.

-

Whatever pain you felt became a distant memory the second the Devil lifted your hips from Jungkook’s face, arms wrapping around your body, his knees sliding up a little to hover your two bodies right above the cum puddle on Jungkook’s stomach. The demon beneath you panted, fucked-out, still shuddering with aftershocks of orgasm.

You held his face, looking deep into dark brown eyes full of the knowledge of every sin known to mankind. His lips curved into a sly, open-mouthed smirk.

“You’ve been so good,” he drawled. “Such a resilient little thing.”

Everything was sore, throbbing, muscles burning with exertion, and yet you still wanted more, caressing the cheeks of the Devil with your fingers, leaning against his body for support.

“After this, I think we should be a little closer, don’t you?”

Your body was lowering, abused pussy meeting his hard cock once more.

The Devil wasn’t done until he was done.

And those shadows of arms ending with claw-like fingers, covered in eyeballs and mouths? Always willing to lend a hand, encircling around your bodies, holding up your weak human body so the Devil could fuck you.

“Let’s be together for all eternity, you and I.”

You whimpered as you sank down again, so wet and slick that he slipped in easily, hardness swelling against your trembling walls.

“A contract?” you croaked, barely able to speak at this point.

“No, my pet,” the Devil lured, drawing you into him as he rocked his hips, lowering the two of you on the mess of cum on Jungkook’s abdomen, smearing your thighs in it, sticky and strong-smelling, Jungkook losing it under you, scooping up the demon seed to coat his fingers and palms. “Not a contract. Just a promise. Dedication.”

Now Jungkook’s hands were covered in the Devil’s cum and his own.

He began to spank your ass with every rough thrust of the Devil’s cock burying in your velvety folds, adding stings of pain to the devastating pleasure.

“You have dedication, don’t you?”

Dedication?

Slap! Thrust. Slap! Thrust. Slap!

The Devil leaned forward, raspy laugh deep in his chest.

A trickster’s kiss capturing your swollen lips.

“Faith, if you will.”

Your body instinctively bucking back into the Devil’s cock, Jungkook hitting you repeatedly, cum caked to your ass and thighs, pussy spasming and drenching the impossibly hard and thick cock inside you, taking it all with fierce enthusiasm, now throatily moaning to the bruising pace, ensnared in his words. Fucking you, punishing you, freeing you, violent hard thrusts, smacks on hips on hips and hands on hips, flesh singing with feral pleasure, Jungkook’s nails tearing at your skin and leaving red scratches with his stinging, cum-stained palm prints.

The Devil’s hand closed around the collar around your neck and you felt the leather melting away, disappearing, joining the mass of shadows around you. The black spidery arms flared out, circling around the Devil’s head like black fire, surrounding his four hours as his fingers gripped your neck, his left hand splayed on your back as he choked you.

The shadows opened.

Red eyes with black slitted pupils, watching everything.

Slashed mouths with black lips and forked red tongues, grinning.

They closed in, wrapping around your joined bodies, long predatory fingers tangling in your hair, hands clutching on your breasts, pointed nails clawing at your thighs and leaving red scratches, the Devil’s hot breath in your face as he smirked, wide and open-mouthed, canine teeth glinting ominously, driving his punishing girth into you as Hell’s shadows pushed you back down, Jungkook’s nails digging into your ass and his lustful, throaty moans ringing in your ears as he relished in the feeling of the Devil fucking you on top of him.

Your head clouding, circulation thinning as the pleasure thickened, rising to an impossible crescendo on a scale no longer known to man, consumed by lust and shadows, covered in cum, vision blurring, sound intensifying as one of your senses faded.

All Hell breaking loose.

“Do you have faith in the Devil, human?”

You scarcely managed to croak out an answer.

“Yes.”

A millisecond of euphoria.

A growl so deep it seemed to reign and command all souls within his presence.

“I am the Devil, and my name is Min Yoongi.”

-

Yoongi let it happen.

He set his jaw and shot into you, once more cramming you full of his cum, the pleasure of your orgasm amplifying his own, savoring the addictive high as the ice-silver filaments crowned from that center point on your chest, eagerly darting forward and plunging into his.

For a moment, he felt nothing.

He looked into your eyes.

You reflected ecstasy.

Then he felt an overwhelming pressure, sedation, and a crushing weight mixed with high-voltage passion, shattering through him, the unknown power pinpointing exactly what it needed and knocking on the door of the current soul embodying the Devil.

He was already waiting patiently.

The tendrils of ice-silver became your hands, cupping together, begging.

“Here.”

He ripped it himself, breaking off the thin diamond-like shard of black-red, a piece of his soul that he handed to the waiting hands, knowing he was forever bound to you, forever drawn to you, the Vessel, the Entropy, the Chaos.

His now.

“And this.”

He pressed a little something into it.

“It’s yours.”

The ice-silver snatched his soul-shard and vanished.

-

The darkness closed in, leaving you trapped in nothingness once more. The Chaos received what it needed. There was no need for your consciousness any longer, for the Vessel was complete. The nothingness just was and you were in it.

Silence.

Complete and utter silence.

Then.

A pulse.

-

You opened your eyes.

Everything hurt.

Everything was sticky, covered in cum.

Everything was scattered everywhere, bedsheets and clothes shredded, shadowy arms swaying this way and that, no longer covered in strange eyeballs and mouths, simply all-black and waiting for command.

Why?

You felt something soft tucked into your arms.

Your eyes lowered, seeing the black goat-man plush cradled in the crook of your less cum-coated arm. A pale hand took yours and placed your fingers on the leather hoof. You stroked it, almost innocently.

“Would you like to come with me?” said the deep, raspy voice.

Your eyes flickered to your chest. Six black-red demon soul-shards surrounding a bigger, more lustrous, and sinister-looking one. It sparkled red and purple. Something was trapped inside it, glowing violet from within. It seemed to pulse, slowly, following a unique rhythm.

You looked up.

Into Min Yoongi’s dark, dark eyes.

You felt a strong grip on your shoulders from behind, matched by a teasing chuckle as a playful chin resting against your shoulder. Your eyes flickered to your right, seeing the hand tattoos on that hand, feeling the hardness of the body of Jeon Jungkook behind you. He held you to him, tracing the curve of your neck.

Yoongi held his hand out, smirk on his lips.

You took it, affirming your desire to follow, even if it meant going to the depths of Hell itself.

“What did you do?” you breathed.

The Devil shrugged.

The domain around you was collapsing, but not melting away. Instead, it seemed to cave inward, bowing from strain, surrounding you, Yoongi, and Jungkook, swallowing the three bodies and the goat-man plush in your arms. Yoongi drew close to you, lips on your lips, half-lidded eyes smoked with arousal.

“I gave you a small shred of my heart, pet.”

The fist-sized muscle pounded in your chest as the surface disappeared and the Devil dragged you down to Hell with his right-hand demon.

“Now you have emotion and free will.”

Yoongi pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply as the world around you turned into everlasting flames.

-

666 You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.

--

masterpost

[thefairyletters]

I saw you rb a SaiSaku post and was curious if you had any fanfic recs for this rarepair?!

Do I have?!!!!! I am currently binging this ship so you couldn't have asked this at better time.

.

This pair is not a crack ship! Crack would mean they have not shared more than two words with each other. But SaiSaku interactions always bordered on romance and best friends who don't act like it. Not only Sakura was the first person to acknowledge Sai had human side to him and bonded with him over his painting, Sai was also the only person outside Sasuke (in part 1) to be able tell her fake smiles and he always understood her feelings better than other characters. Had Sakura ever only cared for good looks (something she don't) then with Sai she'd get that and so much more.

I have always considered SaiSaku as the next best thing after NaruSaku. They had too much potential as a couple. I am not bitter that InoSai became a thing but looking at them I only feel that "Ino didn't get Sasuke so she get his look-alike." Besides, Sai gave people nicknames that are opposites to what actually feels about them – Naruto as Dickless, Sakura as Hag/Ugly and Ino as Beautiful – which makes it worse. Both Ino and Sai deserve better than this. If Kishi has shown them together more often or had interactions between them similar to SaiSaku then I can understand why Ino is his light. I guess it is also SP's fault for showing them in different light. For all SP hates Sakura, they enjoy messing up with her fans by feeding them false hope.

Whenever I want to read something hilarious but deep, SaiSaku is my to-go couple. Usually angsty, or full bout of insults and punches. There's no in between with them.

. SaiSaku .

This list contains my favorite SaiSaku collection. I am not sure if you like SaiSaku only as romance ship but this list also contain stories that expands on SaiSaku friendship, something I absolutely adore.

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Could Roses Bloom? : RiseoftheBlossom || M || AO3 || Shippuden AU || GaaSaku, SaiSaku || Angst, Romance || Ongoing

Sai glanced downwards at his body, the sudden override of his thoughts causing his mind to blank. What did that mean? Had he been straying too close to a piece of information Danzo didn't want him to have or share? Or was it his mind's natural response to shutting down any form of emotion, even if it was just the slightest of inclination towards feeling something?

Go for it if you like: enemies-to-friends-to-lovers troupe, SaiSaku friendship, confused-over-his-feelings!Sai, slow burn, GaaSaku, boys who are bad at feelings, Sakura who is unlucky with romance, angst with fluff

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hello, bright eyes (been waiting on you) : mouseymightymarvellous || T || AO3 || Shippuden AU || SaiSaku || Angst, Romance || One Shot

“look underneath the underneath,” except no one has ever really bothered to look at sakura and see her. and then there is a boy (isn’t there always). maybe they’re both just ghosts, making each other real.

Go for it if you like: enemies-to-friends-to-lovers troupe, confused-over-her-feelings!Sakura, boys who are bad at feelings, Sakura who is unlucky with romance, Sai and Sakura who don't feel like they belong, angst with fluff, sad!Sai

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Oh God That’s Heaven : blueberrysconesandfolkmusic || T || AO3 || Shippuden AU || SaiSaku || Angst, Romance || One Shot

Sakura finds Sai sick, alone, and in desperate need of a hand that doesn't hurt.

Go for it if you like: boys who are bad at feelings, bleeding-heart!Sakura, sad-and-lonely!Sai, Sai and Sakura who are secretly best friends, Sai with PTSD, protective!team7

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for everything blue and bright : sinemoras09 || M || AO3 || Shippuden AU || SaiSaku, SasuSaku || Angst || One Shot

The five stages of human arousal.

Go for it if you like: lonely!Sai, obsessed!Sakura, One-sided love, Unrequited-love-no-matter-how-you-look-at-it!SaiSaku, no-good-very-bad!Ending, pining!Sai, bittersweet lemon

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A mess of me : Dovey || M || AO3 || Pre-Shippuden AU || SaiSaku || Yandere Romance || Complete

In which Sai is a good ANBU agent with an unusual hobby, and Sakura grows up with a #1 fan rooting for her....even if she doesn't know it. Or: Sai starts stalking Sakura when they're both young to satisfy his curiousity about 'normalcy', gets attached, and eventually gets very frustrated that nobody else seems to notice her potential as a shinobi and takes matters into his own hands- and delights in being Sakura's prime source of validation because of it.

Go for it if you like: obsessed!Sai, manipulation, stalker!Sai, mentor!Sai, SaiSaku friendship, distraught!Kakashi, fluff, baby-Sai-stalking-baby-Sakura, abusive haruno household

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There is sunshine on his forehead : amako || T || AO3 || Soulmate AU || SaiSaku but it's complicated || Angst, Hurt/Comfort || One Shot

Sakura is only three when she promises herself that Sasuke will die by her hand, whoever he is.

Go for it if you like: dysfunctional Team 7, Soulmate AU, Unrequited love feels, angst heavy, Sai and Sakura only want to belong, NaruSasu, NaruSaku but not really, betrayal heavy, no fluff only pain, SaiSaku, Team 7 taking Sakura for granted, Sakura is so done

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In theory : nimblnymph || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Romance, Humor || One Shot

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Sai was about to learn that this theory applied to more than just physics. And that putting theory into practice sometimes gave unexpected results.

Go for it if you like: oblivious!Sai, teacher!Sakura, student!Sai, Sai getting educated, Sakura educating Sai, Kisses, Sai being Sai, Sakura with patience of god

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Loathing : i AM the Random Idiot || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Romance, Angst || One Shot

Define "hatred."

Go for it if you like: oblivious!Sai, hurt!Sai, Angst, Onions, SakuSai bonding over mutual hate, love is overrated anyway

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Bunk Mates : ice bitten || T || FFN || Shippuden || Team 7 || Humor, Friendship || One Shot

In which Sasuke and Naruto find out Sakura has been sleeping over at Sai's. Short stories surrounding Sakura, Sai, and the invasive people of Konoha.

Go for it if you like: sassy!Sai, protective!Team7, SaiSaku friendship, roommates, Sai being Sai, Perfect characterisation, Canon feels

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Paint me with Colour : PeregrineFlight || T || FFN || post-Shippuden || SaiSaku|| Humor, Friendship || Incomplete

Sai and Sakura must travel to the Land of Lightning to retrieve something for the Daimyo, they have to travel as a married couple. Much to Naruto's amusement.

Go for it if you like: lonely!Sai, SaiSaku friendship, roommates, Sai being Sai, pretend marriage, SaiSaku bonding over mission, fluffy angst, adorable!Sai

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Forget Me Not : Joy-girl || T || FFN || post-Shippuden || Team 7 || Angst, Friendship || Complete

Sometimes it's easy to forget how important someone is when the person is always in the background – but Sakura's boys still remember. Glimpses of her importance from each member of her team.

Go for it if you like: fluffy angst, Sakura's place in team 7, underappreciated Sakura, Team7 family, Family feels, sad!Sakura, protective!Team7 males, Sakura appreciation, SaiSaku bond, Team7Saku feels, avenger!Teammates

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Add Me Colour : Cella N || T || FFN || post-Shippuden || SaiSaku || Drama, Romance || Complete

"All my life is white. Paint me. Add me colour."

Go for it if you like: lonely!Sakura, Sai being Sai, confused!Sakura, angst, poetic translation, colors

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Euphemisms : Nymbis || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Humor, Romance || Complete(?)

Drabbles about Sai, Sakura, and their strange attempts at bonding.

Go for it if you like: Sai being Sai, Sakura being Sakura, Hilarious friendships, SaiSaku friendship, loveggression, love-hate relationship, Insults, Sai's brand of humor, fluff with punches, Raunchy stuff

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Ricochet : Strix 4 || T || FFN || Shippuden AU || Team 7 || Family, Drama || Complete(?)

Sometimes it's easy to see the familiar in the faces around you. Sometimes it sucks to figure out why.

Go for it if you like: fluffy angst, Sakura's place in team 7, Team7 as family, Family feels, wise!Sakura, SaiSaku bond, Sai's place in team 7

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Pick up lines : Demoneyes 14 || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Humor || One Shot

Ero sennin's pick up lines! Guaranteed to get the girl or your money back! Well... it would be more guaranteed if it hadn't fallen on his face in the library, but heck, Sai will try anything once! Maybe it will save him a beating from Sakura...

Go for it if you like: Sai being Sai, Sakura being Sakura, SaiSaku friendship, loveggression, love-hate relationship, Insults, Sai's brand of humor, fluff with punches

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Special mentions...

Study of the Heart : teresa

In an effort to become a better friend, Sai undertakes a study of love, not really understanding how difficult it could be, and how surprising.

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The Blood of a Cherry Blossom : Slytherin Kunoichi

Originally, for Halloween, Sai hadn't decided what to go as, but once he glimpsed at the bleeding flesh on Sakura's neck, he suddenly had the urge to be a vampire…

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Old Dogs, New Tricks : yuugiri

After an unprecedented turn of events, the Fifth Hokage has officially assigned Sakura Haruno the responsibility to make Sai recover what he had lost; his emotions. With a time limit of a month, will Sakura succeed in this mission?

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Once More, With Feeling : Cynchick

Sakura didn't know what she was thinking when she showed up on his doorstep. 

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Ink Me : Krickitat

Exploring the art of bod-modification Sakura takes a step into the unknown world of the exquisite pain of art.

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The Uchiha Secret : Slytherin Kunoichi

Sasuke froze as he stared at Sai's eyes, which were identical to his Uchiha Sharingan eyes now: red with anger and black with hatred...One family secret could threaten and shake three lives forever. Bonds will be broken.

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My babies don't get enough love in the world.

[awellboiledicicle]

More messy au wip be upon ye

Unfortunately for the twins, it turned out that the 'pokeball not pokeball-ing' problem wasn't just a Galvantula thing. Even the more mechanical, theoretically easier to open, pokeballs Ingo held were stuck closed. The only thing keeping the two calm about this was the fact that pokemon generally went into a sort of stasis while in their balls. Not an indefinite one, but in theory it could last until the balls degraded enough to break. It wasn't ideal, but it kept Ingo from having a full panic attack about the baby sneasle he was given.

Doubly unfortunate was that this meant they had to brave exploring the place armed with only their wits and the knife Ingo had been carrying around since he became a warden.

The good news, however, was that they'd managed to start in the densest part of the island and soon rounded a rock to find a small clearing. The grass was long here, but it had largely been cleared of the larger plants. In the middle of said clearing was a wide pool of muddy water, surface flashing as the sun caught the small ripples.

It still smelled vaguely of garbage, but around the pool said garbage looked... purposeful. Like it had been moved there for some reason, though the two couldnt fathom why. Until they got closer and decided to prod at it, if only because it was hot out and the other ways into the clearing were composed entirely in smooth stone that they didn’t particularly want to try climbing at present.

The pile of garbage turned out to be the rotting husk of a water pump-- recognized only by it looking vaguely similar to the ones the transit authority would send over when the subway flooded. It was cobbled together in every sense of the word-- hunks of metal melted together formed the case, with rotted through wood over that, failing in its job to keep out rain. The hose leading into the pool had seemingly been made in a similar manner; cartons, tubs, what Emmet swore was a cooler lid, all melted together into a semicircular whole. Most of it lay at the bottom of the pool, with a hunk of it left attached. Most interesting about it, however, was the hose on the other side. This one sported holes growing grass, cracks where the joints had failed, and was nearly entirely overgrown into the ground cover in parts. It snaked over toward a slight overhang in the rocks, to a previously unnoticed nook hidden by vines.

Around the entrance stood crooked skinny trees with fruit they didn't recognize, though the sweet smell coming from them was appreciated. Around the roots to one side were what looked like watmol berries, their vines sprawling out and totally unkempt. Some showed obvious pock marks that told Ingo the flying types he’d heard earlier likely came here for food--though he still wasn’t sure what cry they’d been. The other side at least had familiar looking pinap berries, so at least cold wouldn’t be an immediate issue.  Past that were the remains of a water trough and rotting bamboo, which he assumed had once been a rain collector-- 

“This is the part we find a skeleton.” Emmet said it matter-of-factly, eyeing the shadows deeper in the overhang. There was a particularly mossy looking tarp doing its level best to not disintigrate between themselves and going further in, and he wasn’t particularly liking the idea of going further in. Ingo hummed. Emmet’s answering frown was accompanied by a small grunt. “You are supposed to tell me I am wrong.”

His brother shrugged.

“If someone was still living here, they have a very high tolerance for letting things go.” Ingo gingerly picked up a bit of wood that had, presumably, been previously holding up the bamboo. Once satisfied it wouldn’t splinter in his hands, he nodded at Emmet who both knew exactly what his brother was going to do and did not like it. “What?”

“We will not find a body.” It was a question, but not about that. Ingo nodded and gave his brother a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Emmet did not like that he still wasn’t saying no. He huffed and glared dully at the tarp, which had remained where they left it. “We will probably find more trash.”

Ingo snorted, and he was suddenly far more inclined to not be as sour about their ‘horror movie prelude’ situation. It was still not great, but if Ingo wasn’t worried... he was still worried, but he’d go with it. 

With a nod, they both approached and Ingo jabbed at its middle. When all that motion produced was a slight wobble and tearing at the edges, he tried again around the strained parts held in place with frayed twine and a prayer. This time several things happened at once.  First, the tarp came down with a surprising amount of force if only by sheer weight lent to it with dust build up. Second, something that looked like a horribly malnourished torchic went screeching past them at break neck speed before disappearing out of sight. And third, the two of them got lungful's of approximately all the dust that came off the tarp.

The good news was that coughing and being lightly startled by a pokemon were not the worst things to happen to the two, and didn’t prevent them from taking a look inside. Once they smacked each other on the back a few times to help breathe, anyway. Behind the tarp was a slightly collapsed platform with a water jug on it, and a cooler that was looking to be more moss than plastic at this point. Thankfully, the torchic seemed to have been the only thing else inside, living or dead. At most there were a few more bits of tarp, long ago shredded by said animal, and a few more rotting posts that presumably held it up. 

The two exchanged a look.

“No body.” Emmet was less reassured than he should have been, if only because Ingo’s mouth was twitching again. “Hm?”

The eldest gestured around the sort of shredded nest that now occupied the odd platform, and turned to look at the entrance of the little shelter.

“No burnt berries, but it could be a regional variant not prone to burning its food ahead of time. It would be dark and cool in here nearly all day, i would imagine, just from shade alone. I don’t recall everything about them, but they don’t like the dark-- though the cold likely doesn’t matter to it. And if it was around when these things were put together, i doubt it would have fled. They are exceptionally friendly pokemon, and prone to following their partners about. And when their master isn’t able to be found, they tend to cling.” He paused, before letting out a sound of realization. Emmet was giving him a blank look. He cleared his throat and continued while fidgeting with his hat. “Sorry, Professor Laventon had a fondness for discussing pokemon he had encountered previously, and he had spent time in Hoenn around the people inclined to raise them! My point being that either we are in a place with a particular variant on torchic, or we have misidentified it. Or, i have. I thought it was a torchic, your thoughts?”

The absolute strangeness of the situation aside, it made Emmet deeply uncomfortable that Ingo didn’t assume he agreed. Granted, that assumption usually lead to their more mild sibling arguments, but on the front of pokemon? And then looking embarrassed that he’d overshared? It dug at him like stealth rock. His brother had regained his memories--or the core ones, according to the legendries that survey corps member had told them about--but it.. it wasn’t quite like he’d simply been informed of Emmet and remembered, so much as he was putting puzzle pieces together still. And their twin chemistry was still one of the pieces in the box. He shook himself internally; this was Ingo! And he was Emmet! Twins, team mates, and rivals. And he would be back to normal eventually. Yes.

“Torchic, maybe.” He crossed his arms and frowned, kicking at a stray rock. He caught Ingo’s look of curiosity as the younger twin wandered over to poke at the cooler. Emmet shrugged, pulling his smile back onto his face. “We should search! I think this stop may be abandoned.”

Ingo nodded, coming over to peer over his brothers shoulder as the top of the cooler popped off with a puff of stale air. Inside were a few surprisingly preserved hand-bound books. The smaller appeared to be a book of recipies, surmised more from the small drawings by the ingredient list than the writing, as it seemed to be in a language neither could make out. The second, larger book, was held together not by twine but with several large metal rings, not terribly unlike the emergency practices packets they had in the drivers cabs for the subway. The cover felt like many layers of hide, sewn together in a neat diamond pattern. A blue arrow spiraled around itself was on the inside, pointing up. The language following that was likewise indecipherable-- sans the occasional glued in newspaper clipping that they recognized as galarian, though the grammar seemed much more like something they’d have seen in Nimbasa. 

Is The End Nigh? Only if you’re poor. by Thomas Twisp, assistant editor

Very much of the news cycle, such as it is, these days is about the flooding and fires. The massive storms and the sinking island chains-- the human toll no one has the resources to stop the bleeding on. Not enough of it is about how someone could have stopped all this.  Everyone with an eye on social media knows the wealthy have started either shipping themselves to the poles, or taken to buying their way onto expensive-- and experimental-- floating cities. There’s selfies on balconies overlooking fancy enclosed restaurants and bars. Oil and coal magnates bask in sun rooms. Parties being thrown in insulated enclaves, safe from the existential threat people like them caused.  What gets lost, and possibly intentionally so, is that this is their fault.  A man from Jakarta trying desperately to keep his family fed as they live day to day on a raft didn’t do this. A woman using plastic straws because she can’t lift a glass well, did not do this. Someone driving to work, when that was a possibility, did not do this. The men and women that dumped tons of emissions into the sky, the oceans, and buried it in our deserts did this. They did this, and paid enough money to make people forget they did it-- because if it was wrong, why did they have so much money from it?  How were they killing the planet, if the people on it kept paying them? The answer, of course, is ‘because they cannot afford not to’.  Of course there are plenty who pay their way out of this question by financing the terraforming currently happening in Africa, but everyone from on the ground in Cape Town to D.C knows they’re just letting the rest of us move dirt to feel like they’ve done something. They chose between money and people a long time ago, and they chose money. [Cont. Pg 7]

“Well, that’s not good.”

[thexgrayxlady]

Notes: This is a purely self-indulgent and very lighthearted AU and if I’m the only one who is enjoying themselves with it, that’s all that really matters. TBCH I’m not sure where I’m going with it and I know this isn’t very good or perfectly in character, but I’m having a good time and it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything, so I’m okay with it if I’m just writing a messy little crash into hello.

The Universe Won’t Wait for You

Outside the ruined temple, dark clouds gathered and howling winds carried the metallic tang of summer storms. Heady incense drifted from inside, where the flicker of braziers cast statues of forgotten gods in stark chiaroscuro. Yet, under the wind and crackle of flames, the air hung still and silent, charged with the promise of lightning.

The jungle crept up around the ancient stones. Gnarled vines threatened to drag the crumbling archway back into its depths. Fragments of cracked and chipping mosaics peered through the leaves, their tiles scattered across the floor with the trees’ detritus.

The roof had long since caved in and the once gilt friezes lining the main hall were now washed almost smooth. The faceless figures posed in the uncanny silence, leading the way to the sanctuary.

At the altar, a group of very annoyed people stood over the unconscious leader of a dragon cult and his scattered cards, having narrowly averted the end of the world for the third time in as many months. The timing was inconvenient for everybody involved and it was universally agreed upon that it would have been better if these assholes had waited until next weekend to try and destroy the world.

“So if we beat the megalomaniac of the week, why isn’t the portal going away?” Tea asked, vaguely gesturing to the swirling silvery distortion above the altar.

“I keep telling you nerds it’s not a portal.” Although against his will and his better judgement, the geek squad had grown on Seto Kaiba like E. coli on room temperature meat, he would still sooner saw off his own hands with a rusty spoon than admit it.

“We could always leave it alone,” Bakura said, disdainfully looking over one of the cultist’s discarded scrolls before rerolling it. “His Latin was terrible. It probably won’t do anything.”

“It won’t do anything because it’s a not a portal.” Their group would have it found it infinitely more worrying if he didn’t insist that the latest near apocalypse had a logical explanation. As of late, he’d settled on saying that anything he couldn’t immediately explain wasn’t magic, just science they didn’t understand yet. Everyone might have appreciated this a bit more if not for how often they had to deal with the fallout of his attempts to understand the science. “Watch.”

He picked up one of the scattered cards (rare, but only good for niche dragon decks and he would notadmit that he would have found this clown’s cards useful) and tossed it towards the floating mass. It passed through without incident and collided with the back wall.

“Wheeler could make something more convincing.” He rolled his eyes. This entire escapade had been a nuisance. He still wasn’t sure how he’d been talked into it. The others certainly hadn’t just mentioned that they needed a ride.

“Yeah, these guys tried to take our dragons cards and dragged us out here to show us some crappy holograms,” Joey replied.

“You would believe a bunch of delusional lunatics.”

Yugi paused checking on the cult leader and decided to head this off before it became serious.

“Guys, stop fighting!” he said, his voice quiet and gentle, yet brokering very little argument. When he realized that Kaiba was gearing up for an argument, he added, “You’re wasting time and the sooner we figure this thing out, the sooner we can leave.”

“Whatever,” he said, turning dramatically, letting his coat flare behind him. “I’m going to figure out what’s going on because some of us have jobs to get back to.”

“You’re self-employed!” the blond shot after him.

While he examined a pile of rubble on the far wall for a projector or an off switch, the others looked over the altar and scrolls. He was just about to shift some stones out of the way when lightning split the sky.

The portal flared and spun wildly. Roaring thunder followed close behind and a glowing thing shot from the portal before it collapsed upon itself as if it had never existed.

“Kaiba look out!” Yugi shouted. “That thing’s headed straight for…”

“It’s a hologram,” he shouted back, gesturing dismissively at the thing barreling towards him without actually looking at it. “It’s not like it can hurt…”

The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, his ears ringing, and struggling for a full breath.

When he regained enough sense to figure out what was going on around him, he realized that his arms were wrapped around something warm and solid. The thing thrummed under his hands, like working on an ungrounded circuit. He came around to a curtain of white and a pair of horribly familiar blue eyes.

The woman shot back, her fingers splayed across his chest, her face contorting in stunned confusion. She started to speak, her voice raspy and quiet, stumbling over words in a language he didn’t understand. Yet even without knowing the words, he got the sentiment.

“What. The. Fuck.”

This couldn’t be real. She couldn’t be real. He must have cracked his head when he hit the ground. She had to be a hallucination or a hologram or…he didn’t know, he couldn’t think clearly enough to figure out what specific kind of nonsense was going on.

Somewhere off in the distance, the nerds said something, but it was like listening under water. And as much as he wanted to shout at them to shut up so he could focus, the words stuck in his throat.

He knew her. From that trip to Egypt. Her name was…

No. No.

This wasn’t happening. The world didn’t work this way. People did not just fall out of holes in the sky. He’d been dragged kicking and screaming into accepting that maybe the supernatural bullshit that followed him around possibly had some merit, but thiswas a step too far.

None of this made any sense. Kis…She was impossible. You couldn’t just fling someone through space and time with badly mangled Latin. It took energy. It took machinery. Complex math, things that went beep, big red buttons that gave the nerds heart attacks when he pushed them.

(But these idiots were trying to summon a dragon, weren’t they?)

This violated so many different laws of physics. There must be another explanation. He just had to keep calm and think of it. His heart hammered against his chest. Every time he almost had a grasp on this, he caught her eyes, and any theory beyond rote denial slipped away.

She couldn’t be real. He’d barely thought of her since that trip. Whatever, whoever, she was, it was the past. It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. He had to focus on figuring out how the hell some loser cultists managed time travel with some incense and dead lizards, no if they managed time travel some incense and dead lizards, when, despite his disregard for the laws of men and gods, even he was still mostly beholden to thermodynamics.

They probably hadn’t. There had to be something in the incense.

Still, the logical part of his brain told him that even his best holograms didn’t feel this real and there was no logical way they knew what she looked like. Her heartbeat fluttered under his hands. She smelled like prison grime and ozone and petrichor.

So a hallucination then. But everyone else kept talking. He still couldn’t really hear them, but maybe they could see her too. Or that was just another facet of his concussed delusion. But if this was a hallucination, then why couldn’t he understand her? He’d never hallucinated in a language he didn’t understand before.

Not a hologram. Not a hallucination. Where did that leave him? Flat on his back on a cold stone floor with a dead woman straddling his waist and the growing certainty that he would never live this down.

Again, she leaned in, her head tilted to the side. Time slowed as she brought a hand to his face and his heart beat too steady to be truly calm as she studied him. She was so small. He could easily throw her off and get away, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even look away as the world shrank down to just the two of them.

She didn’t look quite the same as in the memory. She didn’t seem half so fragile. Her long, pale hair was tangled and her face prematurely lined. Her dress was more a collection of mismatched patches than an actual garment. Bruises and scars bloomed along her arms and collarbone amid patches of thick, almost scaly looking skin.

He wondered if the memory, vision, whatever it was, was accurate. How much of what he knew about her was true? How much had been made up by someone who’d never met her to fit her role in the game? Did it even matter? He was his own person, why should he care about her just because of a supposed connection to the Blue Eyes White Dragon?

Yet despite everything going on, she seemed alert and curious, determined to figure out what exactly just happened, whereas he had to remind himself to keep breathing.

Just before her rough, calloused fingers brushed his jaw, a jolt of static leapt between them. She reeled back, her pupils snapping into narrow slits. Thin, cracking lips curled back over sharp teeth in an inhuman hiss. Her shoulders flexed and he half expected wings to unfurl from her back.

Then she must have caught sight of the others because she shrank back, trembling. A horrible charge built under his hands. He willed himself move just enough to let go.

She scrambled away, breathing in sharp, hissing gasps. Upon reaching the far wall, she shot up a crumbling pillar and crouched as far back on the bottom ledge of a frieze as she could manage and stared down in horror as the first few drops of rain fell through the broken ceiling.

He stared back, the concussed or drugged or shocked daze lifting just enough to drag himself to a sitting position.

She was impossible. But her eyes were electric bright and she’d felt like a damn live wire in his hands. He hadn’t figured out the physics behind this yet, but he understood one thing.

Kisara was very real.

[bubblesuga]

Counting Stars

Summary|| Min Yoongi is a well versed piano player and musical prodigy. His passion lies in song-writing, but he had yet to tell anyone that until you showed up one day, giving him the confidence he needs to prove himself to the world. 

Word Count: 8,006

Warnings: smut, cock warming(?), oral (both m and f receiving), slight exhibitionism

Part 2 of my college!au

Melodic piano music played through out the hall, a spotlight shone directly on center stage. A gorgeous white piano with a teal-haired man dancing across the keys echoed off the empty concert hall walls. 

“No!” The piano was suddenly cut off and Yoongi groaned, slamming his fingers onto the keys in a mess of stark contrast to the earlier pretty sounds. “A-flat Major, Yoongi. A-flat Major.” He spoke to himself, repositioning himself at the beginning of the song. He squinted at the sheet music, shaking his head and cracking his fingers. 

Again, he repeated the beautiful song. And again. And again. 

“Fuck!” He tossed his sheet music, groaning in the process when he realized it wasn’t stapled. Every time, without fail, his fingers stuttered at the crescendo. It was like they suddenly stopped working, and every thing he had studied through out his entire life was left in a puddled mess on the floor while a frustrated tear slipped carelessly down his cheek. 

“Chopin.” He heard a voice say, breaking him out of his frustration. In the front row, you sat carefully listening to every note he played. When you were walking passed the music hall, you couldn’t help yourself but come in and listen to the gorgeous song. You recognized it immediately, and although you were a violinist, you always had an affinity for for the piano. 

“Uh, yeah,” Yoongi responded, swallowing and wiping away the lone tear, “h- how did you get in here?” 

He watched you smile, “Through that door.” 

Your body turned and pointed to the back door, one people would use for sound booth entrance. You turned back to him, spotting him in casual clothing. It was rare to see a music major in anything other than a tux or dress, but he sat clad in a beanie and white t-shirt, blue torn jeans snaking their way down his long legs. 

“Play again.” You encouraged him, standing from your chair and flattening your dress. You set your violin case down and took the large steps up to the stage. Yoongi watched for a moment in awe while you quickly refiled the sheet music and set it perfectly in front of Yoongi. 

“I can’t get it right, I’m gonna fail the end of semester assessment.” Yoongi stated in a low voice, his disappointment dragging out in his words. He cleared his throat, watching you while you sat beside him. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly relayed this information on a stranger, yet you seemed so open. So, welcoming. He couldn’t help himself.

“If you relax your palms,” you reached forward and lined his fingers up with the correct keys, “but keep your wrist firm, your fingers won’t shake. You’re holding your palm flat and not allowing the music to flow through you.” 

Yoongi couldn’t help but scoff, “Let the music flow through me?” 

You nodded, your face falling serious, “You can’t get it right if you don’t feel the emotion of the song.” 

Yoongi sighed, adjusting his beanie. For a moment, he was hesitant to keep playing again. He needed to feel the emotion of the song, but Nocturne was so difficult. He felt lonely, almost. The perfect mix of happy and sad, as if Chopin couldn’t pick an emotion for the day. You sat so close to him, watching his fingers carefully. Finally, he began moving across the keys yet again. 

“There ya go,” you encouraged, “you’re getting it.” 

Yoongi felt his wrist falter for a moment, but fixing his stance quickly and building up the crescendo. Nervously, he watched his fingers hit the first notes successfully. A small smile stretched across his face when he realized this was the furthest he had gotten without messing up. “Yes!” You cheered, turning the page for him. 

The crescendo ended, and the end was just like the beginning. Yoongi easily played the outro, his shoulders visibly more relaxed than before. You closed your eyes, inhaling and listening to the beautiful melody. Yoongi took his foot off the pedal, the piano drowning out softly into the ending. 

“Nocturne is a classic.” You stood, your heels clacking against the wooden stairs while you made your way back down to your violin and book bag. 

“Hey where are you going?” Yoongi called after you once he realized you were already halfway up to the sound booth. You turned back to him, “I have to get to a lecture, I’m already late. Thanks for playing for me!” 

Yoongi confusedly watch you walk out of the door, turning back to the piano with his brows furrowed. “Did I just dream that?” 

He checked his watch and sighed, picking up the sheet music and shoving it haphazardly into his bag. He walked his way backstage and out of the auditorium, into the bustling hallway of his college.

“Yoongi! Wait up!” Jungkook called Yoongi’s name, rushing through the crowd and throwing his arm around his older friend. Yoongi gave the younger a small smile, “What’s going on?” 

“How’s your song thingy coming along?” Jungkook’s eyes were bright, so full of youth that made Yoongi jealous of when he used to be like that. Yoongi couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever feel like he was young again, or if he would enjoy life as much as he did as a freshman.

“It’s going okay, I finally managed to play through without messing up,” He shrugged, guiding Jungkook out of the building, down the large steps and towards the literature building, “how’s your adventure of living the college lifestyle going?” 

“I’ve successfully been to three frat parties and only got kicked out of two.” He gave Yoongi a wide grin, not quite meeting his eyes. 

Yoongi stopped in front of the doors of the literature building, a small chuckle bubbling in his throat, “Go to class, you can’t throw away your tuition just yet.” 

“No plans to,” Jungkook hugs Yoongi firmly, “see you later.” 

Yoongi shook his head with a smile, adjusting his back pack and making his way to his car. 

~*~*~

The following week, Yoongi carried his tired body through the halls of the music building to once again listen to a professor yell at students for the same things every day. He rubbed his eyes, sucking in a breath of air and walking passed an empty classroom. 

Almost empty. 

As Yoongi’s ears perked at the sound of a girl’s voice, he stopped and listened carefully. 

“I’m begging you, just this one extension.” He recognized your voice from last week, the same cadence echoing through out the room. Except this time, you seemed distressed. 

“I can’t give you an extension. That would be unfair to the rest of the students.” Professor Coogan. Yoongi recognized his voice anywhere, he had him last year for his music theory class. Either way, he knew that he was a bitch of a teacher and you were definitely not getting him to budge. 

“Deem it special circumstances.” You argued, your voice almost in a whine. Yoongi couldn’t help but peak into the window.  

Coogan sighed, finally looking away from his papers, “And what exactly are those special circumstances?” 

“I’m. . . uhm. . .” Yoongi chuckled quietly your stutter, “I’m your favorite student?” You tried, your voice unsure but your stance somewhat confident.  

Coogan stuck his tongue in his cheek, throwing off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’ll give you another week. I need that report on my desk by next Monday otherwise you fail my class and I won’t allow you to retake it next semester.” 

Harsh, Yoongi thought.

You let out a sigh, “Thank you, Sir.” 

“Get out of my classroom, you’re taking up my only freetime today.” Coogan groaned, then you turned on your heel and towards the door. Your face was victorious and Yoongi pulled away quickly to avoid getting seen, tripping in the process and dropping his papers everywhere. 

The door opened and Yoongi sighed, looking down with a red face and beginning to pick up various papers. 

You leaned down beside him, grabbing papers, “Ah, so we meet again.” 

You flattened and organized the papers to the best of your ability, “You know, you don’t have to throw papers to talk to me.” 

“I didn’t throw them, I tripped.” Yoongi explained, taking some of the papers from your hands while avoiding your eyes. 

You leaned lower, reading some of the words written across the page in scrawly handwriting. You picked the paper out from under a textbook, sitting down against the wall of the empty hallway. Yoongi was too anxious to notice your paused movements, your eyes reading down the page while you took in some of the words. 

“Were the petty arguments the start, the moment I became heavier than you,” you read aloud, finally catching Yoongi’s attention. He lurched forward to rip the paper from your hands but you turned away, “maybe it was greed trying to match myself to you.” 

Yoongi held his hand out expectantly, it shaking slightly, “Please, that’s private.” 

You turned back to him, “These are gorgeous, what class are you writing these for?” 

He was finally able to snatch the paper from your hands, shoving the paper into his bag. “Not for a class.”

He stood quickly, turning to walk away but you were quick to follow. His speed increased while you called for him to wait. As he rounded the corner, he spotted his classroom’s door shutting. 

“Fuck.” He groaned, turning to a bench and plopping down. He rubbed his eyes, tossing his head back. You finally caught up to him, sliding beside him on the bench. You rested your hands on your knees, watching his fingers anxiously tap on his thigh. 

“What’s got you down, bub?” You question, his hand stretching out once he realized you were next to him. 

“Bub?” He turned to you with a raised eyebrow. He was trying to ignore the embarrassment he felt at you reading his lyrics. He hadn’t yet had anyone read them, and the fact that the first person to do so was a fluke with a stranger had him nervous.

“Well I don’t know your name, what else am I supposed to call you?” 

“Yoongi.” 

“Okay, Yoongi. I’m (Y/N). What’s got you down?” Your face was too kind for this to be a joke. He wasn’t sure what made you so interested in him, or why you followed him, yet you weren’t going away. 

Of course, Yoongi had to admit he didn’t necessarily want you to go away. 

“I’m missing class right now. My teacher locks the door at a certain point.” Yoongi explained, suddenly being a touch bit more okay with it than previously once he met your pretty eyes. 

You giggled, “That’s dumb. Come get breakfast with me then.” 

You stood quickly, reaching your hand out towards Yoongi. He studied your hand for a moment, glancing between his classroom down the hall and you. Initially, once he saw the door closed he was going to head back to his apartment and give up for the day. Sure, he only had a couple morning classes and an afternoon lecture but he suddenly felt drained. 

“I don’t know, I think I’m-” 

“I didn’t ask,” you stated, grabbing his hand and pulling him up to the best of your ability, “besides, who wouldn’t want an excuse to eat too many carbs right in the morning?” 

Yoongi looked at your interlocked hands, knowing he was sweating at your touch. He pulled away and played it off like he needed to scratch his arm. He liked the way you stood so tall despite not being very tall at all, confidence radiating off of you. You were certainly different from most music students, especially violinists. “I’ll go, but only if we don’t go somewhere on campus.” 

“Penny Anne’s it is, then.” You grinned, gesturing for him to follow you out the front doors. 

The walk wasn’t long, and when you arrived you were pretty much seated right away. Yoongi spotted Hoseok in his uniform, helping a table nearby. He wondered if he would be sat in his section, and sure enough in moments Hoseok was nearby to take your order. 

“Hi welcome to Penny Anne’s- Yoongi? Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Hoseok was cut off by the surprise of seeing his friend. He looked between you and Yoongi, confusion evident in his face. 

Yoongi sighed, Hoseok has always had such an expressive face. Sometimes it wasn’t such a good thing. “Uh, yeah. I decided to skip today.” 

“Oh?” Hoseok slid next to Yoongi and stuck his hand out to you. You shook it, “I’m his music buddy.” 

“And I’m his favorite buddy,” Hoseok teased, earning a small pinch on his knee from Yoongi under the table and a soft ‘ow’ from his lips, “what can I get you guys to drink?” 

“I’ll have water.” You answered. 

“Usual.” Yoongi grumbled, now embarrassed by his friend. There was no doubt that Yoongi thought you were cute, and the fact that every little thing made his cheeks a deep crimson red cemented his thoughts in place. 

Ugh. Who were you to show up out of nowhere and help him perfect a song he had been trying to get for down for days? Or compliment his lyrical ability out of nowhere? Of course he would like the first woman to see his work. Even if it was an accident. Conflicted, he soldiered through his thoughts and tried to ignore the fact that you even looking at him made his knees weak. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Hoseok said, taking Yoongi’s short answer as a means to leave. 

You tilted your head, watching Yoongi stare out the window at the water dripping down on the window pane. His ability to look almost like a model even with tousled hair and a frown on his face fascinated you. 

When you first saw him playing piano, your mouth became dry immediately. You’d never seen someone like him play so elegantly, even when he made a mistake. Hearing his music from the hall seemed like he was beckoning you, it made you late to class but you didn’t care because you had to know who was playing. 

“You’re not very talkative, are you?” You finally speak, watching Yoongi tear his eyes away from the parking lot. He swallowed, “Not with people I’ve just met.” 

“Well how are we supposed to get to know each other then?” you leaned on your elbows, Yoongi’s eyes flickering down to the V cut in your dress, “So would you want to show me those lyrics of yours? You know, the whole song?” 

Yoongi shook his head, gnawing at the inside of his lip. 

Hoseok to the rescue, he plopped down your water and Yoongi’s coffee on the table. “Alright I’m just going out on a whim here, Yoongi- do you want the usual?” 

Yoongi looked up to his friend, giving him a straight smile and a nod. You told Hoseok what you wanted and he was quick to get away. 

You sniffled, clearing your throat and trying to wade through the awkwardness. “So why music?” 

He turned to you, and for the first time since you sat down, you saw his lips turn up in a genuine smile. He uncrossed his arms, leaning onto the table, “Music is versatile. It makes you feel emotions you never thought you would be able to comprehend. That, and my mother insisted I learn piano from a very young age.” 

You were happy you were finally getting somewhere with him. You felt like you had whiplash from his sudden ability to talk, but you weren’t complaining. 

“Music is very versatile, and with talents like yours, you could go far.” His face was red again at your compliment, “That’s my hope as well.” 

The conversation continued to flow easily, and finally you were getting somewhere with him. 

Yoongi felt odd, opening up to someone he’s barely talked to. However, your ability to snake your way around his thoughts was impressive to say the least. The two of you talked even through your food, staying for a while after, both forgetting about your respective classes. 

When Yoongi spotted Hoseok tapping his foot impatiently, he pulled out his wallet to pay for the bill. Hoseok snatched the check from the table and rang him up, and Yoongi decided it was probably time to head out. 

He walked you out, and the two of you split ways after exchanging phone numbers. He spotted your small smile while you headed towards your car, Yoongi having a significant pep in his step as opposed to a few hours earlier. 

When he made it back to his apartment, he checked his phone to see he already had a text from you. 

‘coffee tomorrow? meet me at the brew house x’

Giddy, Yoongi bit his lip and responded. 

‘see you there’

~*~*~

It was unspoken at this point, every other day you two would meet for coffee then walk into the music building together. Your conversations consisted mostly of current musical artists you listened to, or random things you had seen through out campus the day prior. 

Conversation came easy, and for that you were grateful. 

A few times, rarely, Yoongi would talk about his home life. Say he misses his parents and brother, but wouldn’t delve too much into it. You didn’t pry either, because you knew Yoongi wasn’t the type to exactly spill all of his emotions everywhere. You had always been more upfront with your emotions which was a driving force for passed relationships, but Yoongi was a different story. 

It was no secret that you had a crush on him. You had an inkling that he liked you as well, seeing as he had yet to get sick of your coffee ritual. He was always happy to see you even though he wasn’t much of a morning person which you learned on your second coffee date.

You learned of his friends, one being his roommate and the others he had become close to very quickly. He said they were his brothers, in a sense, and he felt almost protective over all of them despite not being the oldest. 

Slowly, you were learning just who Min Yoongi was, and with every word you felt yourself falling just a bit further into the deep abyss that was his dark brown eyes. 

When you walked into the coffee shop, Yoongi was already sat at the booth in the corner. In front of him were two coffees, his phone in hand. 

You walked up to him, covering his eyes and taking his phone from his hand. 

Yoongi protested but you slipped on the opposite side of the booth. Once he saw you he let out an uneasy breath. 

“No phones at coffee time.” You scolded playfully, setting both his and your phones upside down in the center. Your lips wrapped around the straw sucking in the iced coffee and giving a happy sigh, “there’s nothing like iced coffee on a cold spring day.” 

Yoongi gave you his famous gummy smile, looking down while you stirred in the caramel on the sides of the cup. You both sat in a comfortable silence. Having seen each other yesterday, the only thing he had to talk about was the new song he had been working on. 

Of course, every time he brought up his lyrics, you insisted on reading them. Yoongi never let you though, because despite your praise he was still... nervous. Way beyond nervous, as he hadn’t even shared his lyrics with his close friends. 

His fingers tapped on the side of his coffee cup, before finally pulling his bag from the floor and pulling out a binder. 

“Ah, no more loose papers?” You teased, seeing the sleek black binder sitting in the center of the table. 

Yoongi chuckled, flipping open and pulling out a paper that was tucked neatly in the pocket on the side. You looked down, your eyes widening as you saw ‘First Love’ scrawled across across the top, a strong underline with a question mark to the side. 

Yoongi looked down, “I, uhm... I figured since you liked what you read before that maybe you’d like to see something new. Even if you read the first one without my permission.” 

You bit your lip, reaching your hand out expectantly. Yoongi gave you the paper, still unsure whether he actually wanted to show you the song. It was already too late, and soon he was watching you warily while your eyes scanned the paper to a fully written song. 

I remember that moment Way taller than my height The brown piano that guided me I looked up to you, I yearned for you  When I touched you with my small finger

You bit your thumbnail while you read over the words, soaking in every syllable. 

Yoongi wasn’t sure at what point you started to tear up, but when he finally had the guts to look you in the eyes he saw tears collecting so slightly in the corners. He bit his lip, watching you look up and down from the paper to him. He was tempted to reach forward, to wipe the single tear that had managed to slip down your cheek. 

You beat him to it though, setting the paper down and sniffling while gently wiping away your tear, “Wow.” 

“That bad, huh?” He bit his lip, avoiding your eyes yet again. 

Yoongi debated for a few weeks whether or not to show you. Ever since you walked into the music hall, he hasn’t been able to get you off his mind. He wanted to impress you but he didn’t know how to take you crying into your coffee over some words on a page. 

You reached forward, gripping his chin in your hand and forcing him to look up, “You are the most talented song-write I have ever met.” 

“Really?” He tried to ignore the feeling your fingers on his skin gave him. Much like when you held his hand in the music hall, he felt his palms begin to sweat. 

You nodded, reading the song once again, “Your sixth verse is beyond amazing and the emotion I felt just reading these should tell you how much of an impact this gorgeous, gorgeous song could have. When can I hear you sing it?” 

“One adventure at a time,” Yoongi pleaded, grabbing the paper and sticking it back into the binder, “you’re lucky you even read this today.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed in response, “well I love it. Thank you for letting me read it.” 

“You’re welcome.” He picked up his coffee, taking a sip as he felt his mouth go dry at the sound of your thanks. 

After a little bit more, the alarm on your phone when off, signaling you had about 20 minutes before your first lecture. Both of you stood up, walking out of the doors. Normally you’d split in separate ways, but Yoongi was surprised to feel your hand grip his and pull him with you. 

“Wait (Y/N) my car-” 

“I’ll drive you, don’t worry.” You grinned, pulling him towards your car. Given, the drive wasn’t long and the two of you could have walked but you wanted to spend as much time with Yoongi as you could.  

He opened the passenger door of your car, watching you toss a jacket towards the backseat before slipping in beside you. As you drove down the road, you felt your left leg begin to shake. At a red light, you saw his hand sitting on the arm rest in the center. His fingers gripped the end of it, tapping melodically to the song on the radio. 

You wanted so badly to hold his hand, you felt so comfortable around him that you felt like you were together, just without the physicality portion of the relationship. You wanted that physicality, and you wanted to be able to feel his hand rest on your thigh while he stroked your skin distractedly and held a conversation with his friends. 

A silent scoff fell from your lips while you pressed on the gas again, how could you be envisioning such a detailed relationship with Yoongi when you could barely get him to look into your eyes. 

Yoongi looked over at you with a raised brow, “Everything okay?” 

“Do you like me?” As the words came out of your mouth you desperately tried to swallow them again. 

Yoongi didn’t think much of the question, “Of course I do, I wouldn’t hang out with you if I didn’t.” 

“No, not like that,” fuck. You were too deep into it now, “like, like-like me?” 

It was Yoongi’s turn to scoff, “What are we, 12?” 

“Please don’t make me feel stupider than I already sound.” You pleaded, pulling into the parking lot in front of the music building. You turned off the car and saw the sun beginning to peak through the trees. “It was stupid, just ignore me.” 

You hopped out of your car quickly, grabbing your bag from the back seat and slamming the door before beginning your ascent up the stairs. Yoongi was quick to follow, calling after you much like you did when he was running to class. 

“Of course I fucking like you,” He stopped at the bottom of the steps, “why else would I show you my song?”

You turned around, squinting down at him and trying to ignore the looks Yoongi and you received from passerby. 

“I mean, fuck (Y/N), my knees tremble when I look at you,” Yoongi began to step up, “you make me so nervous and I’m never nervous. I wrote First Love and the first person I thought of showing was you.” 

Sheepishly, you looked down when he made it to the step you were on. His hand slid down your arm until it tugged your hand out of your pockets, holding it tightly in his, “Now the question is, how did you not know?” 

“You’re a bit of a walled off man, you can’t blame me for not picking up on it.” You sighed, feeling his thumb stroke your knuckles. 

“I’m a walled off man who likes the girl in front of him very, very much.” Yoongi finally grinned, that gummy grin that you came to know so well under the dim lights in the morning coffee shop. 

“Listen, uh...” there was that Yoongi again, the one who didn’t know how to phrase what he wanted to say unless it was in a song, “my friends and I are going to a bar this Saturday. Would be cool if you came along.” 

Again you found yourself tilting his chin to look up at you, “I’ll see you there big guy.” 

Then you walked into class, finally allowing the butterflies in your stomach to run wild. 

~*~*~

This was the first time you had gotten dressed up in a while, and for Yoongi. Sure it was nice to look nice for yourself but tonight, you wanted Yoongi to see you and not be able to talk his eyes off of you. 

So, the black smokey eye and short skirt was the look you envisioned the moment he asked you. He really had only seen you in your school clothes, and the fact that you found the perfect shirt to go along with your skirt meant that this night was going to be perfect. 

You hadn’t even kissed the man yet but you wanted his hands all over you. You stared into the floor length mirror, tilting your head at your reflection. The shirt was low cut, just enough to show off the right amount of cleavage to get Yoongi’s attention but not enough to be over doing it. You decided against a bra, and you were proud at how perky your boobs looked under the thin black material. 

The fishnet tights and mid-calf boots were the icing on the cake and soon you were out the door. 

The drive to the bar was short, your uber driver tried to make casual conversation but you were quick to shut him down by saying you were meeting a guy. 

The bar was loud, music blasting from the jukebox and you didn’t take long to realize you were the first one there. You rolled your eyes at your ability to be early to everything. You ordered a shot, downing it quickly and sitting on one of the bar stools. Quickly, you sent a text his way.

‘you almost here?’ 

‘be there soon, can’t find my keys and my roommate is going to the arcade’

You let out a small breath, deciding it best to order another drink to loosen you up. You hadn’t seen him since the beginning of the week, he insisted that he had to practice for his end of year test and you finished up the report that was due. You secretly hoped he hadn’t been scared off at the sudden confession of your feelings for each other. 

“Hey there pretty lady.” A man said from behind you, touching your shoulder. You whipped around in the chair, expecting to see Yoongi but instead spotting an older man with way too much facial hair. 

“Not interested.” You said, turning back around and sipping your drink. 

He leaned forward, “Good thing I didn’t ask if you were interested.” 

Abruptly, you saw Yoongi forcing his way through the crowd and slipping seamlessly in between you and the man. He snaked his arms around your waist, a feeling that was new but also welcoming. You had never hugged him before, so that in of itself was a pleasant surprise. So when he laid a soft, chaste kiss on your cheek, you know you would have collapsed had you not been sitting down. With his arms around you, you suddenly felt like nothing could harm you. That he wouldn’t let anything harm you.” 

“Hey baby,” he gave you a look before turning to the man, “I suggest you fuck off before this has to escalate.” 

The tone Yoongi used, speaking down to the man even though he was a good few inches shorter than him, caused electricity to jolt through your entire body. The man, defeated, turned away and began talking to another woman across the bar. 

Yoongi’s arms dropped from your waist which caused that earlier sense of protection to dissipate along with it. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t sure how else to get him to go away.” Yoongi’s face was red, his hand awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. 

“No, it’s okay,” you decided to grab his hands, placing them on on your hips while you slipped out of the chair, “I liked it.” 

His face was slightly surprised, making no effort to remove his hands. It was in that moment that he noticed your outfit, your usual mid-length skirts and nice blouses were nowhere to be found and his eyes scanned up and down your body. When he finally met your eyes again, “You’re killing me.” 

The smirk on your face was evident, “Oh? How so?” 

He hummed, “Very funny, you know what you’re doing.” 

“Little old me? I would never do anything of the sort.” You teased, Yoongi’s fingertips rubbing gently against your hot skin. You forgot you were in public, the fire in Yoongi’s eyes evident when you two began swaying softly to the music. 

You two continued to dance for a while, taking a few shots in between certain songs and talking easily. It was much more touchy than your previous ‘dates’. His hand was pretty much always on you in one way or another. Whether his hands grip your hips as you danced for his fingers trailing up and down your spine while he ordered you two more drinks, he was always on you. 

The alcohol was certainly beginning to show it’s presence, the look of lips becoming more and more tempting as his face became flushed with the multiple tequila shots the two of you took together. 

Without thinking too much about it, you leaned forward and pressed a hard kiss against his lips. Yoongi took a moment to respond, surprise taking over his body. He took a moment to respond, and you were tempted to pull away, embarrassed. Just as you were about to take your lips away, Yoongi finally began to kiss back. 

His lips moved against yours perfectly. When your hands held the back of his his neck, desperately pulling him in for more, he obliged. His tongue licked the seam of your lips, your mouth falling open without a second thought. Again, you two were the only ones in the bar as far as you were concerned.

Yoongi pulled away at the call of his name, breaking you out of your trance when you spotted a few people walking towards a table in the center of the bar. He gave you a small, lazy grin, his eyes clouded over with a mixture of alcohol and what you thought to be lust. Yoongi grabbed your hand and pulled you through the crowd, sitting you down beside him. 

“Alright we have Jimin, Jungkook, Hoseok, and Taehyung.” Yoongi introduced you to everyone, each boy taking your hand gratefully. You noticed Jimin staring off for a bit, your eyes trailing towards the jukebox where a girl resided. 

“I’m-” 

“We know your name,” Jungkook said, a beer in hand, “Yoongi won’t shut up about you.” 

Yoongi shot Jungkook a deathly glare, but you only smiled, grabbing his hand and stroking your thumb across the back. He looked at you, relaxing at your touch. 

You found it endearing, that despite the fact his tongue has explored every inch of your mouth mere moments ago, he was still embarrassed by his friend’s teasing. You also recognized Hoseok as your waiter at Penny Anne’s. 

Hoseok gave you a knowing smile, sending a wink your way while starting a conversation with everyone else at the table. 

Yoongi was finally in his element, surrounded by people he was comfortable around. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol that upped his confidence but he was loud, ecstatic at jokes being thrown around and his laughter bringing joy to your ears. 

“I could kick your ass at Mario Kart.” Yoongi said, about an hour into drinking with his hand never leaving your thigh. 

“Coming from a man who said video games are a waste of time! Please, you couldn’t use a joystick if you tried to.” Jungkook yelled back, the teasing nature of their relationship causing you to giggle. Everyone laughed together while Yoongi shrugged, seemingly unbothered by Jungkook’s insult.

You leaned your head on Yoongi’s shoulder, feeling yourself become more and more light and deciding it was best to cut yourself off before you started to take your top off in front of everyone. 

Even though you cut yourself off, you knew alcohol had always been a bit of an aphrodisiac for you. With Yoongi’s hand absentmindedly inching further and further up your thigh, you felt like you were going insane. 

“And they’ve arrived!” Yoongi shouted from beside you, staring at the doorway where two tall men entered. 

They both made their way to the table and Jimin rushed to the side of one of them. Yoongi had a lot of friend’s which surprised you as you knew he took schooling more seriously than socializing. 

You hadn’t contributed much to the conversations, as you felt yourself growing more hot and bothered as the night went on. Your legs tightened, Yoongi taking notice and slipping his hand a few inches further up. Resting at the top of your thigh and underneath your skirt, the tip of his middle finger stopped dangerously close to your inner thigh. 

You managed to lean to his ear, “Y- your hand is-” 

“Do you want me to stop?” He cut you off, whispering back to you and sending chills down your spine once again. 

Breathlessly, you glanced around and noticed nobody seemed to take notice to your lusty eyes. Yoongi was composed, a complete 180 from when you first met him. He liked this. He liked watching you struggle back a moan even though he had yet to touch you. 

To say he hadn’t thought about touching you from the moment he first met you would be a lie. After your hands rested on top of his in the music hall, he couldn’t help but imagine your hands wrapped delicately around his cock. When he kissed you earlier, it took everything in him to not take you on top of the bar in front of everyone. 

“No.” You finally said, and his fingers moved to your inner thigh. You bit your lip, seeing Namjoon turn to you to ask you how you met Yoongi. 

Yoongi’s fingers were not so close to your heat, the table blocking the view from everyone and finally you felt your legs spread instinctively and his middle and ring finger were quick to rub your heat over your the think material covering you. 

“U-uhm- I heard him playing piano and just decided to talk to him.” You tried not to let your words come out strangled, swallowing as Namjoon nodded. 

“Well that’s good, this guy doesn’t smile much but I haven’t seen it leave his face since I got here.” Namjoon replied, right as Yoongi increased the pressure on your clit. You bit your lip again, biting back a moan and nodding at Namjoon’s words. 

Still, Yoongi seemed not to be phased by what he was doing to. You squirmed so slightly in your chair that finally he looked over to you and gave you that same lazy grin. 

You’d never been touched like this in public before. The look in his blown out pupils told you he enjoyed this and in some sick kind of way, you enjoyed it as well. Something about having to keep your pleasure hidden while he went to work on your now soaked slit had you rolling. 

At one point, your hand moved to grip his wrist to pull him away as you felt your lower half begin to heat with electric shocks. You were not about to have an orgasm under the table at a bar. 

“If you want to continue, you have to take me home.” You whispered, your teeth nibbling at his earlobe. He whipped his head towards you, almost as if he didn’t expect that. What could he be thinking, though? That you weren’t going to allow him to fuck you into oblivion after doing that to you? 

Yoongi stood without saying goodbye to everyone at the table, the same hand that was buried between your legs moments ago was now pulling you out of the bar and into a taxi sitting just outside. 

The car ride was short and even in the taxi his hand was rubbing up and down your thigh. You were worried the seat would become soaked at your arousal, even checking when you stood out of the taxi and was lead up to an apartment. 

Yoongi opened the door to his apartment, walking a few feet in and flipping on the light. When he turned around, you were on your knees. 

“This is a sight I like to see.” Yoongi said, half surprised to see you just as eager as him. 

“It’s my turn.” You grinned, looking up at him through your lashes. He walked towards you, grabbing your chin and pulling you up to his level, “As much as I want those pretty lips wrapped around my cock, I’d prefer if you let me fuck your face in the bedroom.” 

The sultry tone to his words only turned you on more. Dripping you allowed him to lead you to the bedroom furthest from the front door. He started by sitting you down on the bed, unzipping your boots and pulling them off of your feet.  He was so gentle with his movements, your mouth watered while his hands carefully tugged your shirt over your head. 

Now just in your skirt and tights, Yoongi stared shamelessly at your chest, your nipples hard, sensitive to every touch on your body. 

He leaned forward, unable to help himself as he latches onto your nipple and sucks. 

Finally, moans filled the room while you struggled to keep yourself sitting up, Yoongi’s other hand kneaded your breast and again that electricity was back. 

Once he felt you were just enough of a mess to continue, pulled your skirt and tights off, and the air exposure caused your pussy to clench. Sure enough, Yoongi saw that you were completely soaked. 

It was then that you noticed the wet spot on his white wash jeans while his erection strained against the zipper. You reached forward, unzipping his jeans then sliding them down his legs. Then his boxers. 

Stepping out of the mesh of cloth, he practically tore his shirt off and was on top of you, his lips attacking yours viciously. All teeth in the kiss, his cock tutted against your lower stomach and moans filled the room from both of you. 

“I want to ride your tongue.” You finally said after a minute, your pussy quivering at the thought. 

“Please.” Yoongi said, practically throwing himself onto the other side of his bed. Alcohol made you much more bold than you ever thought you could be, your thighs straddling Yoongi’s face. 

His hands gripped your thighs, gently lowering you down onto his mouth. 

His tongue began working on you, your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of pleasure coursing through your veins. You looked down, seeing his cock twitching and, almost breathlessly, you lowered your torso and grabbed him in your hands. 

His member dwarfed the size of your hand, a nice surprise as you didn’t expect him to be so big. As you stroked up and down, Yoongi let out whines at your touch which only egged you on and on. 

Your thumb collected the dripping precum, smearing it around the sensitive tip. You kept your focus on him the best that you could, his tongue working magic against your sensitive slit. 

As you suck your mouth around him, taking him as deep as you possibly could, you felt Yoongi’s fingers spread your labia and attack your clit. With both of your mouths occupied, muted vibrations came from both of your throats. 

You pulled away with a pop, “Fuck, Yoongi!” You were up again, circling your hips on his tongue while you felt your high approaching. 

Yoongi worked his tongue onto you, your sweet taste filling his mouth while his lips sucked on your swollen clit. 

In seconds, with your thighs sore and your hands gripping your breasts, you were coming undone above him, collapsing on top of his body. 

Yoongi didn’t stop though, his lips continuing to suck while your body twitched at the over stimulation. You slid from off of him, giving him a teasing glare. You couldn’t help but notice the shine around your mouth, signaling that you were much wetter than you initially thought. 

Seductively, his finger collected the wetness from around his mouth, dipping it into his mouth and sucking it off. 

You gasped quietly at him, his chest heaving just as the sight of you coming above him. 

“Now get on your back, baby.” Yoongi demanded softly, pushing you so your head resting on the pillow. He spread your legs in front of him, reaching into his nightstand and pulling out a condom. You leaned onto your elbows, watching him slide the condom over his cock. 

“Are you ready?” He questioned, lining himself up with your entrance. 

“Yes.” 

And he slipped in, so easily. Your warmth encased him and he stilled, unable to move at the sheer amount of pleasure he was in. “Oh god.” was the only thing he found himself able to say. 

You felt him twitch inside you, his arm moving to raise your leg to his shoulder. Still he made no effort to move, his eyes shut and sweat shining on his neck and chest. 

“You feel so good, princess.” He moaned, and you felt another twitch. Finally, he began to move. He stretched you out, his cock filling you in the best way possible. 

Low moans fell from his lips and you watched him in awe as his thrusts picked up speed. With one long stroke out, Yoongi slammed back into you roughly. 

Something took him over, and he was faster than ever. He reached a point inside of you that had you reeling beneath him. He leaned down, capturing your lips in his while you felt him in your stomach, in and out at such a rhythmic pace. Your hands held his lower back, guiding him with his thrusts. 

“I’m already so close.” You said, feeling him nibble on your neck. 

His hand dipped in between you, thumb stroking across your clit. Your back arched into him and with a call of his name, you were releasing once again. Yoongi’s thrusts picked up even more than they already were, feeling you tense around him. 

Your wreck expression made Yoongi so close to the edge that he felt himself beginning to melt away, but it wasn’t until he heard your voice was he able to let himself go. “Cum for me, please Yoongi.” 

Then it was all over, releasing in spurts into the condom he finally came. He thrusted a few more times, both of you sensitive as he pulled out with that same lazy grin from earlier. He fell beside you, the bed bouncing. 

“Wow.” Yoongi laughed, pulling you close to him and wrapping his arms around your torso. 

“Yeah. Who knew you had that in you, piano man?” You giggled, your hand reaching up to push his bangs off of his forehead. Such a small touch warmed Yoongi’s heart, pulling you closer and kissing your cheeks. 

“I certainly didn’t.” He replied honestly while your head moved to rest on his chest. Yoongi took off the condom, tying the end and throwing it into the garbage can. He stood and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, wetting it with warm water and walked back to you. 

He pushed your legs apart, wiping your down gently. He watched your torso jolt at the feeling of the towel brushing lightly against you, his smile unable to be contained. He knew he did good but he didn’t know he did that good. 

Your face felt warm while he cleaned you up. Yoongi took care of you so gently, bringing you a glass of water when he was done. Never in your life had you experienced something like that, making you fall deeper for Yoongi. 

He grabbed the remote, flipping on the television and patting his chest so you can lay your head above his heart. He silently hoped you didn’t plan on fucking and leaving, but by the looks of it, you planned on staying the night and he wanted nothing more. 

“What would you like to watch?” He said, the smell of your hair evident as coconut filled his nostrils. Yet another thing he found himself loving about you. 

Surprised, you shrugged, “You put on whatever you’d like, I just enjoy spending time with you.” 

He decided on some commentary show, watching contestants compete for a cash prize. You hardly watched the show, instead keeping yourself tuned in to Yoongi. His slight chuckles were easy to miss but you watched him so carefully. 

Eyes flickering from the TV to him, you fully relaxed into him. His arm around you, thumb stroking your shoulder was a stark contrast to what you had been doing to each other moments ago. You loved ever second of it. 

You leaned up, turning his face to yours and pressing a small, short kiss to his lips. His smile was large when he pulled away, butterflies swarming your tummy. 

You could get used to this. 

[noonachronicles]

The End of the F**king World Pt. 1

Byun Baekhyun X Reader

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: Language. Violent imagery if you squint.

Genre: Apocalyptic/Alien Invasion AU. Slow Burn (ish?). One pining pup and one idiot in denial to eventual lovers.

A/N: I mean, idk, but do I ever?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Don’t forget to read the Prologue!

There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, which left the sun free to beat down on every inch of the city. Showering it completely in light. It was nice, the sun, especially when it had been mostly dark and rainy for weeks. Basking in the light of the sun this city looked like every other city in the world. Absolutely every other city.

Cement sidewalks and asphalt roads with their gaping holes from where bombs and missiles had landed. Skyrise buildings half destroyed by fires or from flooding. Windows covered in plywood, plywood riddled with bullet holes. Not a business in sight that hadn’t been ransacked. Nearly every inch of wall space and every abandoned or crashed vehicle was covered in spray paint. Messages of hope for survivors, warnings about certain spots in the city, brief apologies and goodbyes from those who just couldn’t do it anymore. Plants, weeds, grass, and flowers growing through cracks in cement. Overgrowth in certain places making the city look like a literal urban jungle.  

Every major city in the world looked like this because every major city in the world got hit in exactly the same way. If not in the first wave then the second, and if not in the second then the third. And so on and so forth until they were all just empty shells of what they had once been.

The sound of your boots crunching against gravel and broken glass didn't even register to you any longer as you made your way down the empty street. Finally you found what you’d been looking for. A shop you’d noticed the other week but hadn’t had the chance to visit yet. The toy store was dark inside, left mostly untouched by looters except for the cash register. It had probably been busted open in the very beginning when people thought there would still be a use for money.

Old currency was rendered useless and the only survivors left now were the innovators, you thought to yourself as you peered through the window frame. It didn’t matter anymore what you had. Survival was about what you could do with what you found. The thought left you wondering how many people had walked past this shop without realizing its potential.

The storefront consisted of a three paneled window. Two of the panels had been smashed to nothing leaving an easy entrance into the store. The third window stood untouched, looking pristine. You rapped your knuckles against the completely intact glass and waited. It only took a couple of seconds. You could hear them before you saw them. A low hissing that sounded like getting the drool sucked out of your mouth at the dentists broke up with intermittent clicking. The sound either made your skin crawl in terror or it annoyed you. Today, luckily, it was just an annoyance more than anything else.

Grabbing the knife from the strap on your thigh, you focused in on the shadows of the aisles. There were two sets of four beady, silver eyes lurking in the dark. With a sigh you stepped through one of the broken windows and into the store. The hissing and clicking grew louder and more chaotic at your more obvious presence in the room. Resting the blade of your knife on your shoulder you made your aim. Then with a quick snap of your wrist the knife had shot through the air and projected into the shadows.

What happened next went fast, you knew it had to from your experience. As the first blade slipped from your fingers your hand had already dropped down to grab the second. The blade of the knife stuck between the four silver eyes and they went black. As the first grayish green, scaled beast fell forward into the light it’s counterpart opened its mouth wide to release a shrill shriek. The noise only pierced your ears briefly as you’d already thrown the second knife, the blade catching the beast in the throat. Those silver eyes drained to black as well and then it also fell forward into the light. Reaching into your pocket you pulled out your small flashlight and clicked it on. Quickly, you scanned the other aisles of the store for other Lurkers. You were pleased to find none.

First things first. You moved over to the cash register and searched the shelves of the rounded counter. As to be expected it was mostly tiny plastic trinkets at eye level that children would have instantly fallen in love with and would offer one last minute, desperate plea for. You did eventually find what you were looking for. There on the bottom self seated between a box of rock hard tootsie rolls and several bags of gummy worms that looked like they’d melted during the summer heat and then cooled into a blobby swirl of sugary color. A jar of, likely expired, blow pops. Tearing off the lid you shoved your hand in to grab one. You unwrapped it quickly and shoved the candy between your cheek and teeth with a satisfied sigh.

With your sweet tooth satiated for now you bagged the rest of the suckers as well as a jar of jolly ranchers. Then you went to pull your knives from the Lurkers you’d left bleeding out onto the linoleum floor. Placing one foot against the head of the first Lurker you tugged at the handle of the knife until the blade was released with a nasty squelch. You gagged at the sound, for some reason that was always the worst part for you, and moved to the second. With both blades freed from their victims you stood up and looked around your immediate area. Thick, black, gooey blood dripped from the blades onto the floor with little splats. On the shelf next to you there was a display of stuffed kittens with big, pitiful eyes covered in a thin layer of dust.

“Sorry, buddy.” you said snatching one of the kittens and swiping your blades clean against the soft fur before tucking them back into their holster.

You walked the front part of the store first, making a mental inventory of what was there that you would consider usable. On the other side of the room there was a spinning display rack that had been completely stripped of its contents except for one single package of batteries. That’s what you’d come in for.

“Fuck.” you muttered and snatched the lone package from the rack and tore it open.

At least you could replace the batteries in your flashlight, which had been functioning on borrowed time.

Once your flashlight was back at full power you started to make your way down the aisles. Continuing to take more notes of inventory, you searched for something that would be useful now. Dragging your finger through the dirt on the shelves you passed left a cleared line in its wake. You’d found baby dolls, Barbie dolls, and more stuffed animals. Princess dresses and plastic jewelry. There was plastic, silver tiara on one shelf, with little plastic jewels. You grabbed it and placed it on your head before continuing on.

Basketballs, tennis rackets, and skateboards lined the next aisle. The one after that had action figures and puzzles. You took a mental note to let Baekhyun know about the rack of lightsabers. Though considering how much trouble he’d gotten in the last time he had one you’d have to save both of you the trouble and tell him when Chanyeol wasn’t around. By then you’d nearly given up on finding anything when you reached the back corner and saw exactly the kind of thing you were hoping for. An entire display of toddler toys, each box with a red sticker and bold white letters that read, Batteries Included!

“Oh, jackpot.” you grinned, dropping your backpack on the ground and getting to work.

The first few months after the invasion were the hardest. The stress from uncertainty had aged everyone a hundred years. The four of you had stayed in the safe room for four days before venturing out. It took four days of Baekhyun and Chanyeol watching the security cameras endlessly and listening to the random frequencies the radio would pick up, trying to learn what they could, before they felt confident enough to open the door. It ended up being lucky because the night they decided it was time, was the night the electricity shut off for good. None of you slept that night. You just sat with the flashlight in the center of the room and waited for what you’d hoped would be enough time for there to be daylight outside.

It had to be daylight. If nothing else the guys had confirmed that the creatures never came out during the day. There were hoards of them during the night hours but there was something about the light that made them sensitive. Baekhyun had a theory that there was something wrong with their eyes. He didn’t think they could see or if they could they couldn’t see very well. He felt confident that their strongest sense was their hearing. He ended up being correct, you’d found out after watching them a little longer.

In fact they ended up being relatively ineffective threats once you’d figured them out. They were easy to maneuver around as long as there weren’t too many. They were blind as bats and pretty easy to kill if you got them in any of their softer areas which turned out to be anywhere on their necks and the diamond shaped patch between their eyes. The unfortunate part was that if you found one there were more than likely a dozen more and that’s when you’d find trouble. One or two were easy to kill. Even three was doable for a select few of you, if you were on your own. If you ran into a pack or you ran into them at night however, you were done for. They became chaotic attackers when they had the support of a hoard behind them. Like wild, rabid dogs they would tear their victim to shreds in a minute or less. Which was why they still terrified you even after three years.  

What you’d found when you walked out of the jewelry store on that fourth day was the complete destruction of everything you’d ever known. At that point almost everything still seemed to be on fire. Looters had come and gone, and were likely dead if they hadn’t gone into hiding in time. Buildings were still crumbling, sending debri crashing to the ground. Electricity was out everywhere but you did find that water was still running in some areas. You cried when you washed yourself for the first time in days. It wasn’t even anything nice. It was you in the bathroom of a coffee shop in your underwear, standing in front of the sink and wiping your body down with paper towels and hand soap. Still you cried. You’d cried a lot those first months, that whole first year really. You cried less these days.

Anywhere you walked you could see the creatures lurking in the dark, watching every move you made. Hissing, clicking and waiting for the sun to set. It’s why you’d all agreed they would be referred to as Lurkers, because that’s what they did. You didn’t go back to the jewelry store that night. You didn’t go back for more than a year. Instead the four of you collected food and what weapons you could before finding somewhere new and safe to stay. You did that every night for a week. You didn’t know exactly what Chanyeol and Baekhyun were looking for but you knew when they found it you could finally settle.

Hopping around from place to place is how you found Irene. She was a mess when you found her. Holed up in the corner of a broken cooler at a convenience store behind a barrier made out of boxes of beer. Trembling, sobbing, and dehydrated. It took hours for you to get her to even speak her name clearly. Later you found out her boyfriend had barricaded her in the cooler for her safety after he promised her he’d be back once he found his little brother. Then she watched him get torn apart by Lurkers through the cooler door while having to remain completely silent or risk being attacked herself. After that she joined your family, and the four of you became five.

As the days and weeks passed and you had become more comfortable and confident you started to explore the city. It was less for entertainment and done more so out of necessity. You needed supplies like food and weapons. The more you wandered and scavenged the more survivors you found. Groups of people like yours who’d been together since the invasion. As more people came out from their hiding spots obvious leaders showed themselves within your families, as your groups had been defined.

There were eight families and together you were the Community. The heads of each family met constantly in the beginning, trying to work out how best to work with one another and what they could offer each other. They all wanted to make sure that their families had everything they needed to survive without taking from any other families. In the end the city was separated into nine boroughs, a space for each family, each equal in square mileage. The ninth borough was the city center. All of the major arenas and theatres were there, all of the city's largest buildings. Underground parking lots at every corner. It was a hotbed for Lurkers. Entering any building was more than useless, it was a deathwish. Though it was safe enough to pass through during the day, so long as you stuck to the streets, by night it was wall to wall Lurkers.  

During the first year the Community met once a day after scavanges and doled out supplies. Each family took only what they needed and then the rest was stored by the original scavenger. After the first year half of the survivors were gone. Mostly loss came from accidents or illness. Things that happened that required a doctor, a doctor that you didn’t have. However on the rare occasion someone would walk outside in the middle of the night and scream at the top of their lungs.

Nobody thought them cowardly. It wasn’t an easy life, there was nothing desirable about it. You weren’t even sure where your own will to survive was coming from. It hadn’t been as if there was an expiration date on Lurkers. There was no timeframe for when this would be over. No ETA of your old life getting back to you. No visible end to the invasion. Still you woke up every day and you tried. When you went to bed you went to bed with every expectation of doing it again the next day.

After the first year the Community had become a well oiled machine. Everything had been so well organized. And there were so few people that supplies started to last longer and there was less of a need to meet up everyday. Now the whole Community only came together once a week for a check in. This week's meeting happened to be today.

Once you’d broken apart every toddler toy in the store and collected their batteries, you found a manager's office in the back. You sat down in the pleather chair and pulled your walkman out of your backpack, replacing the batteries that had been dead for a couple days. Having the sound of music flowing through you brought you a sense of joy and content that you couldn’t explain. It was the only thing you’d found since the invasion that could bring you any sort of content or calm. Without it your brain was constantly running a thousand miles a minute with worry and anxiety. You weren’t sure what you’d do when the city stopped providing you with AA batteries.

As the music played you twirled around in the desk chair a few times with a yawn, before deciding to check the room for supplies. There wasn’t too much, a couple things here and there, but in the bottom drawer of the desk you found five of the little airplane sized bottles of whiskey and a dusty, water warped copy of 50 Shades of Grey. After downing two of the little bottles you’d kicked your feet up on the desk and flipped open the book. Then, with a pretty good buzz brewing, you read aloud to an audience of two dolls, a stuffed monkey and three Batman figurines sitting on top of a file cabinet. The next thing you knew you’d amused yourself to tears and were late to the meeting.

Luckily you weren’t too far from the amphitheater where the meetings were held, just a handful of blocks away. You’d even tried to sprint it but were embarrassed to realize that the little amount of alcohol you’d had left you in less than peak condition. In all fairness it had been a while since you’d really had a drink. It had been a long while since anyone had indulged in a drink really. In the first few months a lot of people drank heavily as a way to cope and to avoid thinking about the reality of the situation. Reckless, unchecked drinking unfortunately led to a lot of accidents and those accidents led to the deaths of several people. There had been one night when a member of one of the bigger families drank half a bottle of tequila and didn’t close the door to their shelter well enough. That night twenty people were lost. After that it was rare for people to drink, it was even rarer for them to get drunk.  

The meeting had already started when you’d arrived. You could hear Chanyeol’s voice from outside the amphitheater as you stopped to catch your breath. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of a ticket booth window, you realized you were still wearing the toy tiara you’d found. Spitting the gum from your blow pop into some grass, you pulled the tiara from your head and shoved it in a trash can near the entrance.

Everyone was already there, which wasn’t a surprise but it was still embarrassing when they realized you’d just come in. Every head turned to look at you. Chanyeol, Hyunwoo, Jihyo, Taeyong, Solar, Hongjoon, Hanbin, and Seungcheol all sat in the center as the representatives of their families, silently watching as you made your way towards the group. You avoided eye contact with Chanyeol at all costs, ducking your head as you made your way to your usual spot next to Seulgi.

“You’re late.” she whispered as Taeyong continued with what it was he’d been saying in reply to Chanyeol.

“Obviously…” you whispered back, she pinched your side until you flinched, “Did I miss anything?”

She shook her head no and you both turned your attention to Chanyeol who had stood again to speak.

“General census has been that all families are low on food and the map doesn’t look great either, we’ve almost scavenged the entire limits of the city with the exception of the red zone. All food source locations are near depleted in zones with larger families, the others are getting close as well. Next week each family will send two members to the Farm for supplies and fresh food. Heads have been discussing that we need to put more focus on our own gardens around the city. We’ll be changing priorities from scavenging to gardening and livestock. The few of us who will continue to scavenge will need to...will need to start moving outside of the city.”

Unease ran through the group, and there was a steady hum of murmurs. Leaving the city limits was a nerve wracking suggestion because no one in the Community had left the city since the first wave. No one knew how things were out there. And of the very few people who had gone to scope it out, no one had ever returned. The only place the Community went that was outside of the city limits was the Farm.

The Farm was a huge compound on a stretch of farmland where an actual family had taken up residence. They had well stocked food storage, thriving gardens, and hoards of livestock. It was also protected under a massive security system. The family who lived on the Farm had come into the city not realizing it was occupied. When they found the Community and what you had to offer, they made a deal . They would exchange fresh fruits and vegetables, and eggs and meat from the livestock where they could spare it for fresh water which was the only thing they couldn’t seem to get steady access to. So twice a month the Community would send a group to collect the food supplies and drop off a water truck with a full tank.

Once the group had settled down after Chanyeol’s announcement there were still a few topics to discuss before the meeting was over. The end of the meeting really only meant that it was time for the group to break off into smaller cliques for further discussions and gossip.

“What if they don’t accept the water after the rain? That was a long stretch, they may not need it. What are we going to do without food?” You heard Sehun say as everyone talked over one another.      

You’d actually been pretty interested in listening in on that conversation but Chanyeol had sat down beside you. “You were late.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Yeol.” you looked up at him with your most convincingly innocent smile which only made him laugh.

“You know I worry. And worse, you know I had to hear about it endlessly from Baek.” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Nodding you pulled one of the suckers from your jacket pocket and offered it to him. “I got caught up and lost track of time. I’m sorry I made you worry. Forgive me?”

He already had the sucker unwrapped and stuck in his cheek when he nodded, “Forgiven. Just don’t be late back home. I don’t need you getting locked out.”

He patted the top of your head as he stood and you watched him take off. Seulgi who was talking in a group a little ways away saw him leaving and ditched her friends to chase after him. You frowned as you watched. It had turned out that they hadn’t been dating before the invasion like you thought. They’d definitely shared some pretty deep feelings for each other, but neither one had the nerve to make any moves. The invasion and imminent threat of death had apparently been the kick in the ass they’d needed to confess their feelings to each other. Still, of everything that had happened over the last few years the one thing you couldn't wrap your head around was people getting attached to each other. You just couldn’t understand falling in love.

Over the last three years the Community had lost so many people from death and disappearance. You had lost so many people. All your friends and family from before the first wave were just gone. Any family and all of your other friends. They were all dead as far as you knew. You would never get to say goodbye, never get to tell them how much you loved them. The hardest out of all of them to get over was Siwon. Things weren’t always perfect between the two of you but you’d been together for five years. As far as you had been concerned he’d been it for you. You’d been ready to spend the rest of your life with him, if he’d ever gotten the chance to ask you to. You’d imagined a future with him, buying a house and starting a family. Then in one day you had it all ripped away from you and the pain of it had been unbearable. You didn’t have a future, you didn’t have love. You didn’t even want it anymore. All you had and all you needed was to survive.

You couldn’t see the appeal of falling in love with someone who could be torn from you at any moment. Or intentionally putting yourself through the eventual pain of loss. You didn’t even like that you had to worry about losing Seulgi. The chance of risk versus the low reward just didn’t seem worth it to you. However, Seulgi was happy and as much as you didn’t understand giving your love to anyone anymore, you were happy for her. She was happy. She had a reason to keep going, and that’s all you could really ask for her or anyone else for that matter.

Throwing your backpack over your shoulder you waved goodbye to the others that were left and took off back up the stairs alone. Outside of the amphitheater you saw Hyunwoo chatting with Hanbin and Baekho, while Taemin and Jongin waited nearby. When he saw you Hyunwoo smiled and said something to the others before hurrying over to where you had been walking.  

“Hey,” he said, catching up to you.

“Hi.” you grinned.

“Hold up a second, I have something for you.” he said, grabbing your elbow.

You stopped walking and turned towards him, “For me? Why?”

“You know why.” he smirked. He moved closer to you so there was hardly any space between your bodies. One of his hands reached into his jacket and he pulled out a small, square, gold box with a red ribbon wrapped around it. “I know you didn’t want a big deal made out of your birthday, but I had to at least get you something.”

“You really didn’t have to get me anything.” you assured him, turning the box over in your hands.

“Fine. I wanted to get you something.” he corrected, “Will you just open it?”

You tugged the ribbon from the box and lifted the lid. A tiny gasp escaped your mouth at the sight in front of you. “Hyunwoo…”

“It’s expired, but only by a few months.”

Your eyes had filled with tears so quickly you couldn’t stop the single tear from slipping down your cheek. “It’s so beautiful. I love it. Thank you so much.”

He grinned as you pulled the chocolate bar from the box. “Don’t share it with anyone, okay?”

“Oh don’t worry, I will not be sharing with anyone. Not even you so don’t ask.” you laughed and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. “Thank you so much. Seriously, it means the world that you would give this to me.”

“You mean the world to me.” he said quietly squeezing you back, and then he pulled away, “To us. You mean the world to all of us. You’re always doing so much for the whole Community, my two idiots especially.”

You were grateful for the excuse to look away from him, to look over at Taemin and Jongin as your cheeks burned with a blush. “It’s nothing. You know I love them.”

“Alright.” he cleared his throat and looked over at the still waiting Taemin, Jongin duo. “Get home safe tonight. I have to get the kids home for dinner.”

“You be safe too Hyunwoo, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tucking your gift into the pocket of your backpack you smiled to yourself. Maybe...maybe you could see yourself with someone like Hyunwoo. You’d seen him in action, you knew he could handle himself well in a fight. He didn’t need to be protected or taken care of. You wouldn’t need to feel responsible for him all the time or to worry about him too much. Plus he was a sweetheart and absolutely gorgeous, which never hurt.

“What was that about?”

Pulled from the thought you looked up to see Baekhyun. He was sitting on a short, brick wall. His feet dangled from side to side as he chewed anxiously on his thumbnail.

“What was what about?” you asked as he hopped off the wall and fell in line with you as you walked.

“Whatever just happened between you and Hyunwoo.” He was trying to be casual about the conversation but you could feel the energy vibrating off of him.

You sighed, “Nothing, Baek. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you guys like together? You never said anything. Are you going to leave us? Are you going to stay with his family now? It’s just guys over there, you know? What about Seulgi? Does she know? She’ll be really upset.” he rambled nervously.

“No, Baek,” you chuckled, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not dating anyone.”

“What did he say? It looked like he gave you something. What were you hugging him for?”

“Baekhyun!” You growled looking over at him with wide eyes, “Breathe. Calm down. Christ.”

He did as he was told and shut his mouth. He stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m chill. You still didn’t answer any of my questions.”

“Well you asked about twenty all at once…” you said sarcastically and looked over at him and his big sad eyes. “Fine.”

Pulling your backpack around to your chest you pulled the chocolate bar from your bag and handed it over to him. He grabbed the candy and flipped it over in his hands.

“Shit. This is like ...European chocolate.” he said in awe, “This is the good shit. I haven’t seen stuff this nice in…”

“Months.” you said quietly.

“At least.” He handed the bar back to you, “God, what did he do? Ask you to marry him with that thing?”

You laughed as you put it back in the bag and then swung the bag back over your shoulders. “No. It was just a gift.”

“A gift? What for?” he asked, kicking a chunk of cement off the sidewalk.  

Baekhyun wasn’t going to let it go. You’d spent enough time with him to know that about him. Taking a quick look around the street to make sure there was no one nearby you said as quietly as you could manage without whispering. “It’s my birthday.”

“Your birthday?” he shouted, his voice echoing against the towering buildings that surrounded.

“Shhh.” you hissed.

“Why? It’s really your birthday?” He asked looking wounded, “You didn’t say anything.”

“It’s not a big deal, I don’t want anyone to know. So please...just shut up about it.”

“Hyunwoo knew. Did you tell him?”

You groaned, “Yes, but it had been by accident. He wasn’t supposed to find out.”

Still he looked upset, “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I would have gotten you something.”

You rolled your eyes subtly. “It’s fine, Baek. I swear it’s fine. I didn’t want anything, that’s why I didn’t tell anyone.”

“No, I should have known already. I should have remembered from before.”

“I’m honestly glad you didn’t.”

“I just wish there was time for me to find you a good gift. I feel like a real jerk.” He sighed, “And Hyunwoo got you chocolate? Damn.”

“I promise you, it’s okay.” You assured him once more as he trudged dramatically down the sidewalk beside you.

Suddenly he lit up with a smile, “What about a joke? Can I tell you a joke? Have you had a really good laugh today?”

You grinned. Secretly you’d become pretty fond of his daily jokes. “That sounds like the perfect gift.”

“Okay…” you watched as his face turned quite serious while he thought of the best joke. “Got it. What do you call bees that produce milk?”

“I don’t know. What do you call them?” You couldn’t help your half smile at the fact that he was already chuckling at his own joke.

“Boo-BEES.” He said with the biggest, cheesiest smile.

The laugh came even if the joke was terrible. A real shoulder shaking, teeth out laugh.

“Oh my god, I hate you so much.” You continued laughing and he just smiled back at you.

“Good. I love you too.” He said, the same way he always did when you told him you hated him. “Happy birthday, Y/n.”

You blushed, the tiniest of blushes. “Thanks, Baek.”

“You’re welcome.” He sighed happily. Pleased, you assumed, that his joke had gone over so well. After that the rest of the walk back was comfortably quiet.

Cordially was a club downtown, or it had been before the invasion. It had been made wildly popular by its exclusivity. It was the only by-invitation-only club you knew of. They would hand deliver invitations every week. White cardstock with red embossment that red simply, ‘You are cordially invited”. Then on the back it either said Friday or Saturday to indicate what day your invitation was for. For a monetary fee an invitee could bring up to ten plus ones. The add-ons were where they really made their money. That and of course the alcohol.

The building was on the corner of tenth and main, which was the most popular area for high end restaurants and bars. It was a two story building that had been built originally for use as a concert hall. It had housed operas, plays, and musicals. Then it had shut down for a couple of years and came back renovated into a burlesque club. After that it became a venue for punk shows. For awhile after that it was a gay bar that played venue to drag shows. And in its final form it was Cordially.

Immediately upon walking into the building occupants would find themselves in what appeared to be one big empty hall. On one side of the empty, dust covered hardwood floor there was a short hallway that led to two restrooms and an office. The big empty space had previously been the dance floor. Along the back wall was a bar and on the other side of the dance floor, opposite the restrooms, was a staircase. Upstairs was a horseshoe balcony. There were two more restrooms, a half bar, and private alcoves that had been reserved for vip invitees who’d paid major money for the privilege. None of that was why the Cordially was so important to you. It was important because, technically, its final form was home.

“Honey I’m home!” Baekhyun shouted as you walked in through the main entrance. “Oh, I forgot...I don’t have a Honey.”

“Is everyone else here?” you asked, ignoring his comment, as you looked outside one last time as the sun set on your birthday.

He looked over at the dusty bar top where five shot glasses had been placed. Three were upside down, two were still rightside up. “Yep. everyone is accounted for.”

With a sigh you let the door close while you grabbed the two by four leaning against the wall. You slide the wood through the door handles, and secured the locks at the top and the bottom of the door, and as a last step unhooked the blackout curtains Chanyeol had installed. The room was still lit with the orange glow of sun through windows that lined the second floor. Moving passed the bar as he whistled a tune, Baekhyun flipped over the remaining two shot glasses. He stopped at the door on the farside of the bar and held it open as he waited for you.

“Thanks.” you said quietly before moving passed him and making your way downstairs to the dark basement.

“Anything for the birthday girl…” he muttered to himself as he shut and secured the door.

“Uh...Baek.” you said stepping cautiously down into the unusually pitch black room. “I thought you said everyone was here?”

“The glasses were flipped. Is there no one down there?” he asked as you felt him step behind you.

“No, everything is off and I can‘t see shit.” you complained, searching your pockets for your flashlight.

“Huh...so weird.” Baekhyun said flicking on his flashlight and illuminating the wall switch. “Hit the lights.”

Flipping the switch up illuminated the bright, white christmas lights that had been strung all across the basement ceiling. The room had also been decorated with streamers and balloons. Chanyeol, Seulgi, and Irene all stood in the center of the room sporting paper party hats and cheerful smiles. They’d been popping poppers and shouting happy birthday, but you could barely register it through your haze of emotion.

Baekhyun had come around you and put a cheap, cheesy sash that said Birthday Princess over your head along with a tiara on top of it. Chanyeol lit candles that had been stuck into the top of a stack of just-add water pancakes that had rainbow sprinkles mixed in. After a moment of genuine shock you realized they’d been singing the birthday song to you and were now waiting for you to make your wish.

I wish I was this happy all the time. You thought to yourself before blowing out the candles.

“I-” you chuckled lightly, “I’m speechless.”

“Do you love it?” Irene asked hopefully, “I know you don’t like to make a big fuss about this kind of stuff. I worried it would be too much.”

“Oh, no! I love it! Thank you,” you said giving her a hug and then giving one to Seulgi too, “I don’t deserve all this.”

“That’s not true.” Chanyeol said wrapping you in a tight hug before guiding you over to the couch where a large pile of gifts were waiting. “You deserve more.”

“Do you like your cake?” Seulgi asked, sitting down on the cushion next to you. “Isn’t it cute?”

You smiled reassuringly, “I really love everything. I swear. It’s perfect.”

“I made it, the cake, but it was Baek’s idea.” When you looked over at him he was leaning against one of the surveillance desks. His cheeks were a little flush as he smiled over at you. “It was actually all his idea. He did most of the planning and the work, but we all helped out a little here and there.”

“You really thought I forgot, didn’t you?” he asked, looking so proud of himself. It was only then you realized he’d been the one that had remembered the last two years. Of course it had all been a show. Baekhyun didn’t forget anything. “Oh man, I really got you so good.”

“Open my present first! It’s the best one!” Irene said with a grin as she shoved a flat, wrapped box into your lap.

After you opened it you laughed immediately and then pulled the diamond chandelier necklace from the box. It had been a running joke between the two of you over the past few years. Whenever a gift giving holiday rolled around the two of you exchanged frivolous gifts. Grossly expensive things that were useless at the end of the world.

“I...It’s beautiful. I can’t wait to have some fantastic event to wear this to. Thank you, Irene.” you grinned.

“I got it at that jewelry store on third street if you want to return it. The receipts at the bottom of the box.” she smirked, “But you should know it was twenty thousand dollars, and I think it’s going to look fantastic on you. You should wear it every day because every day we’re alive is a fantastic event.”

Seulgi’s gift was next. She dragged over a tall box that was wrapped up to look like a gift bag, and that was clearly very heavy. When you pulled the tissue paper from the top of the box you revealed no less than thirty bottles of your favorite shampoo.

“So,” she started, “I have spent the last six months during scavenges looking for this shampoo. I took every bottle from every store in the city that had any. Cherish them, they are probably the last bottles we will ever lay eyes on.”

“I love you, Seul.” you said as you wiped your cheek of it’s tears.

“Love you too, bestie.” She said squeezing you tight, feeling quite pleased.

“Alright, that’s enough of the lame gifts.” Chanyeol said, reaching over Seulgi’s lap to hand you his gift. “I hope you’re ready for a real gift, Y/n. Something actually useful and still very fun.”

“Shampoo is useful!” Seulgi said, pinching his arm, “Dick.”

You laughed at the two of them as they bickered and unwrapped his gift. It really did take your breath away when you opened the package. “Yeol...oh my god.”

“You know I don’t know anything about knives.” he said as you pulled one of the shiny silver blades from its sheath. “Sehun helped me. He promised they were the best knives in the whole city. He said you’d really love them.”

“They’re so beautiful, Yeol. Really, I’m...I’m so happy.” you sniffled as you tucked the knives back in the box, “I can’t even tell you how much I’m looking forward to being able to use them.”

“And!” Irene said enthusiastically, “We’re all giving up our wash time tonight, so it’s all yours.”

Cordially was one of the buildings in the city that still offered running water. The problem was that it was such an old building that too much use throughout the day caused the ancient pipes to groan and when they did it was less than quiet. The five of you learned early on that there was a certain length of time that the water could be used after dark without attracting Lurkers with the noise. That time was divided and a bit of time was allotted to each of you for any night time activities like cleaning up after a long day or even using the toilet.

“No.” you argued, “That’s too much.”

“Yes!” Seulgi said, shooting you a terrifying glare, “Take extra care with the shampoo I worked so hard to get you. Rinse and repeat, for once.”

“It really is too much.” you groaned.

“Just let me know before you want to go, Y/n.” Baekhyun said, and you realized he’d been unusually quiet this whole time. “There’s just one more surprise.”

The group refused to listen to your complaints about wash time so you let it go. Instead you all indulged in your pancake cake and talked about your days. After a couple hours had passed you had to switch from the beautiful lights overhead to your regular LED lanterns so that Chanyeol could turn the computers and surveillance equipment back on for nightly security checks.

Together Chanyeol and you checked the reports from other cities and the surveillance outside of your building as well as the water storage. After your first yawn hit you mentioned wanting to clean up and get to bed soon at which point Baekhyun disappeared upstairs for sometime. You’d been ready to give up on him and crash for the night without even washing when he finally showed up. You grabbed one of your new shampoos, a towel and pajamas before following him quietly upstairs with your lantern in hand.

In the beginning you’d refused to leave the basement at night. The sight of the dark open dance hall creeped you out and you were always worried that there would be something hiding in the shadows. Ironically, it had been Baekhyun that had helped you out of your fear. You’d gotten into a pretty good system of making sure you’d done everything you needed to before the sun went down. It worked out really well for you at first.

That was until you, and everyone else, started to realize that things were changing. With every month that passed you realized that the invasion was having a lasting effect on weather patterns. Even now, after three years, they were unpredictable. Winter had come fast that first year. Sunlight was sparse, nights were seemingly endless. Some nights lasting literal days, as if the invaders were trying to force people out into the night to search for food and water, leaving them open and vulnerable for attack.  

It was one of those long winter nights that Baekhyun realized how uncomfortable you looked. He’d laughed at first when you told him you had to pee, but when he noticed the genuine fear on your face when he suggested you just go upstairs he stopped. You’d been so embarrassed, it felt silly that of all the things left to be afraid of, that the dark was what paralzyed you. Then he offered to take you whenever you needed and promised he wouldn’t tell anyone about your fear. That winter night lasted eleven days and every time you had to go to the bathroom or wanted to wash up, Baekhyun was there to take you. He’d check all the shadows and stand outside the bathroom until you were ready to go back down. Even if you shook him out of a dead sleep you  never heard a complaint.

It had been a long time since you’d needed someone to help you in the dark. On several occasions you’d even gone on scavenges at night. Like for the past four weeks when it rained all day everyday. There had been no sun but you also had no choice, your family needed food. So it seemed silly to you that he had offered to take you upstairs now. In front of the upstairs womens restroom Baekhyun stopped and held out his hand, “Lantern please.”

“I’m going to need it, Baek…” you whispered back knowing fully well the solar powered electricity that Chanyeol had set up didn’t run upstairs.

“Your lantern.” he requested once more, quietly, but sternly. With a deep sigh you handed him your lantern and he smiled brightly. “Thank you.”

He knelt down putting your lantern on the ground and picking up a container you hadn’t noticed before. Standing back up straight, he offered you the container.

“My gift to you.”

“You’ve already done enough.” you said taking the container, “Your stupid joke was more than enough for me.”

“Then this will just be the cherry on top.”  he grinned, “Open it.”

You pulled open the lid of the container to find actual cherries. Cherries, strawberries, and blueberries to be exact. “How? I thought we were out of fresh food until the Farm trip?”

“I’ve been stockpiling my portions for you.”

“No, absolutely not. I can‘t accept this, Baekhyun.” you said shoving the container back towards him.

“You have to. I won’t eat it. I’ll let it all go to waste.” he shook his head defiantly, and you knew he was telling the truth. “It’s yours now.”

“Here,” Pulling open the lid once more you searched for the biggest piece of fruit you saw. You held the strawberry up to his lips. “Just eat one. I won’t be the reason your dumbass gets scurvy.”

He smiled happily, “Okay.”

You moved the fruit closer to his mouth and watched him wrap his lips gently around the fruit, you gulped at the sight but he didn’t seem to notice. “Do I get my lantern now?”

He shook his head as he chewed and swallowed down the berry, “Just go in, you won’t need it. I’ll wait out here on guard, You can have your lantern after.”

You looked at him suspiciously before turning to the door. With your fruit and your shampoo in hand you pushed the door open. You inhaled sharply at the sight. The entire makeshift shower room had been covered in candles and wildflowers. It was the most beautiful display you could ever remember seeing in your life.

“Baekhyun…” you whispered his name, not really knowing what else to say.

When you turned back to him he was smiling from ear to ear and he asked very hopefully, “Better than chocolate?”

You may have rolled your eyes but your smile and bright glow said everything he needed to hear, “I hate you.”

“Ah,” he blushed, “I love you too.”

[neohighwayv]

Good enough

Characters: WayV’s Yangyang x fem reader

Genre: angst, fluff, bff!au

Word count: 4.1k

Description: In which you think you’re never good enough – and Yangyang does not know what to do when the strongest person he’s known breaks down.

------

“Hey, you can put your work aside for now, I got us dinner.” Yangyang announced he enters the shared apartment, closing the door with his foot as his hands were full of plastic bags filled with takeout food. He walked over to place the food on the kitchen’s island counter, right beside your pristine sleek silver laptop. He started unpacking the food from the red and blue plastic bags, making sure to buy your favourite dumpling soup from the stall at the end of the street, even though it took him a good 20 minutes to get there; he’ll do it for you – his best friend and roommate. He knew you’ve been working hard this semester, and whilst he can’t help with lightening your workload, he figured he could at least make you slightly happier by keeping you well fed.

You, however, ignored his presence entirely. Your eyes remained glued to the glaring laptop screen, the pages upon pages of words practically screaming at you to read them, yet the dull throb at the back of your head made it hard to get anything done. You’re reading the words but you’re not processing them. You’ve been going at the snail’s pace for the past 2 hours, only getting through 5 pages of this article. Yet, you’re not even sure if you’ve understood everything from the past 5 pages of it. Could you even tell a difference between Freudian theory and humanistic psychology now? Ask a toddler and they might be able to give a better answer than you can. Still, you’re the stubborn type – you truly never knew when to stop or take a break for your own good – and so you keep going.

Till the end of this chapter. Just 2 more pages before I take a break and have dinner with Yangyang.

You tune out the noises that Yangyang made beside you, tightening the grip on your mouse and fixing your stare on the screen more firmly. You will your heart rate to go down, torn between not wanting to keep Yangyang waiting versus finishing the chapter.

When all the food has been placed neatly into plates and scooped perfectly into bowls, Yangyang prompted you to take a break again.

“Let’s have dinner together now?”

“I know, Yang. Just 5 more minutes.” You snapped back immediately, tone clipped and tense.

That’s when Yangyang knew that he’s hit a nerve. He wanted to protest against your statement but he knew better than to do that. He’ll just anger you further. Hence, he bit back his remark, opting to chew on his inner cheek instead. Being your best friend for years has its pros and cons. The pro: You’re smart, which meant that he’s always got someone to help him whenever he got stuck with his assignments and a sharp eye to catch his mistake. After all, you’re not a double major in Psychology and Sociology for nothing. Not everyone got to boast about that. The con: Yangyang knew you well. Too well. In fact, better than he knew himself. He knew that you won’t back down from anything you say once it came out from your mouth. He also knew that you’re always determined to finish what you started. So when you said 5 more minutes, he knew that you actually mean “Till you finish that chapter” and that no matter what he said, you would not move from your seat or touch your food until you’re done doing what you’ve set out to accomplish.

Plopping down in his seat diagonally across you, Yangyang had to make do with eating dinner alone again (for 5th night in a row that week) At least this time he got to sit in your presence – the previous nights, you had simply brought your food into your room, typing away on your laptop between mouthfuls for food.

-

Throughout dinner, Yangyang chewed silently so as to minimise disturbance to you. He stole glances at you from time to time, trying to gauge when you’re about done with your article. He knew how to observe when you’re almost done – your eyeballs would move rapidly from side to side, rushing through the last paragraph before closing your laptop shut. But even as he swallowed his last bite of dinner, he knew you’re not done. You’re still stared intently at the screen, eyes unblinking and posture stiff. Your head is propped up on your knuckles as you used your other free hand to move your hair away from your face before resuming its original position against your mousepad, slender fingers moving smoothly across the surface of the pad. Yangyang thought he saw the faint outline of a vein against your temple and the tight clench of your jaw. You’re tense, extremely tense. You clearly need a break.

Gently, he prodded again. But he doesn’t get another word in before you snapped at him again.

“Hey, maybe – ”

“I know, Yang. I know. Just... just give me another 5 minutes...”

He heard the exasperation in your voice, noticed the way you seem to became smaller in stature; your chest collapsing into itself as your voice becomes so incredibly small that he could barely hear you despite the silence in the apartment. Were his eyes playing tricks on him, or were the edges of your eyes red? Something wasn’t right.

“Are you ok?”

“No, Yang. I’m not. I’m not ok.”

You snapped your head up to stare at him dead in the eye so quickly, that Yangyang worried that you might have snapped it into half. Your chest is heaving violently now, the silver necklace on lying on collarbones now glinting as it caught the artificial light from the lightbulb that hung above you. Your eyes got redder and glossier by the second, rare tears pooling around the edges.

“I’m not ok. This semester is going terribly and I just want to be done with it! It’s a groupwork but I’m the only one doing something. If I don’t say a thing, no one else does anything. Work meant for 5 ends up being done by 1. Yet there’s nothing I can do except suck it up because we’re at this stage where no higher authority would care if you can’t work with others. Just submit the work and be done with it! So, I suffer silently and hope I don’t break before I submit the thing.

 Gosh, I feel like I can’t even breathe because once I submit one assignment, I get another message saying that the new one is due at the end of the week! Just great!”

 At this point, you stopped to collect your breath, the first tears streaming down your face, the tinge of saltiness staining the tip of your tongue.

 “Professor Wang is not happy with my paper and she’s ‘extremely disappointed’ with my work. So much for being a damn straight A student when I can’t even submit a satisfactory piece of work. Oh, not to mention. I failed my driving test. For the 3rd time in the row. How pathetic. Went home and I got vindicated about it the entire weekend! ‘Your sister did it in one try. So did the rest of your cousins. Why can’t you?’ Well – it’s just too bad isn’t it? Driving doesn’t come easy to some of us. I’ve been trying so hard and not a word of acknowledgement from them – I just get blamed for wasting money and time.”

 At this point, you stabbed the tip of your pencil down hard on your blank piece of paper, causing the pencil lead to fly across the table top. Your knuckles were red from the vice grip you had on the pencil; your head bowed to prevent Yangyang from seeing the waterworks on your face. This entire time, Yangyang’s heart cracked with each revelation, never knowing how much you were hurting inside from all the pressure others were putting on you. Most importantly, the pressure that you were putting on yourself. He saw you every day... how could he be so blind to all the signs? The late nights, your quieter self, your bloodshot eyes. How could he possibly miss all that? He heard you suck in a deep breath, head still bowed as you place your head against your palm. From beneath the curtain of your hair, he heard your weak voice filled with hurt, voice wavering as you choked on your own words.

“I get it. I get it ok? I get that I’m not good enough. For anyone. For... anything. No matter what I do... what I try... I’ll never be good enough. I could try till I break myself but I’ll just never be good enough. I’ll just never, never, never be good enough and it hurts to be so painfully, aware of that.”

You finally looked up to face him - and Yangyang swears; he sweared on his life that he’s never seen you look so broken before and the sight immediately made tears prick the corner of his eyes.

 And that sight makes you cry even harder.

 You didn’t think that you were capable to producing more tears, not when your eyes were burning and you’re already so physically exhausted – but you do. You hated seeing him sad because he’s worried about you – the thought of making someone worried because of you showing your weakness – brought fresh tears to your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do was to make your friends or family worried for you, and you absolutely hated being the cause of their pain. You had to slap a hand over your mouth to stop your strangled cry from leaving your throat, you didn’t want to make Yangyang anymore worried that he already is.

“Oh, I can’t do this anymore. I need to stop hurting people around me.”

That was the last coherent line that you managed to get out of your throat before you stumbled out of your chair, making a beeline for the bathroom so that you could cry alone. If he saw you break down anymore, you were certain he would start crying too and you didn’t want to be the cause of his pain anymore. You slammed the door shut behind you and proceed to slump down against the door, your weak body not even registering the heavy contact with the floor. The chilling bite of the cold tiles quickly seep through the floor to reach your body and your body shakes violently, but at this point in time, you’re not sure if you’re shaking violently from the cold, or the crying that is currently wrecking your body in waves. Strangled cries bubble in your throat, threatening to escape you but you clamped your lips shut tight, hoping that no sound would escape you. But you're not sure if that does the trick – you can't hear anything else over the wild thumping sound of your heart that currently filled your ears. You cried and cried and cried, the endless tears falling to stain your brown shirt into a darker shade of brown. In the past, you would have fought your tears, hating to show such a weak image in front of others and detesting yourself for doing so. But today, after months of fighting yourself and others, you're finally willing to concede – and for once in your life – you're willing to admit that you're too tired to fight anymore. You let your body does what it has to do to help you feel better – even if that meant crying yourself dry and hoping that all the pressure you've placed on yourself will be expelled through your tears.

 Throughout this entire ordeal, Yangyang sat shell-shocked in his seat, unable to move an inch. He can't really make sense of the mess of emotions he's feeling right now – but one particular emotion does stand out compared to the rest – shock. I mean – what does one do, when the strongest person you've ever known broke down in front of you? In this entire time of his 10 years knowing you, Yangyang might have seen you cry, but he's truly never seen you completely break down and reduced to tears by the pressure. Sure, he's seen you cry – when both of you are watching a particularly sad movie or you're listening to the harrowing history told by war survivors. But Yangyang has never – never ever, ever – seen you broke down from the pressure. That's why this episode was particularly shocking for him, because for you to do so, Yangyang knew that you must be under an immense amount of stress, to the point where you can't cope with it anymore. He thought back to all the times he's spent with you, and he cannot even conjure up an image of him comforting you. In fact, all he seemed to remember is being comforted by you. The countless amount of times he's called you over the phone to rant about someone's stupidity or a particularly infuriating incident – which usually ended with both of you eating dessert as he finished making his complaints between bites of ice cream. The infinite amount of post-it’s you left all over his belongings when you know he's going to have a rough week. He remembered when you showed up at his doorstep without him having to ask, immediately opening your arms to wrap him in a hug as he freely cried into your shoulder – the first time when his dog died from old age, and a couple more times after when he failed important things; tests, auditions and interviews that at that time, meant the world to him. In this friendship, you've always been the strong one, never once admitting that you're having a hard time. But Yangyang knew better now; should have known better earlier, that no one could be a superhuman. No one is truly invincible against the harsh realities of life – not even the strongest person he knew – and Yangyang wished that he had noticed the changes in you earlier. Of course, he knew that he's not fully responsible for you – you're an adult that should know how to manage herself and ask for help when she needed it. But as your best friend, maybe he should have checked up on you sooner. After all, that's what friends do for one another – to remind each other that they're always there should they need it. Maybe things would have been better if he had checked up on you earlier but it's too late to think about that now. Right now, you've locked yourself inside the bathroom to cry your heart out, and Yangyang's main priority as your best friend is to make sure that you're not left alone with your own self-loathing thoughts; to make sure that you're comforted – just like how you've comforted him so many times before. Yet Yangyang still can't seem to move an inch. He does not know exactly how to comfort you, he's never had to do this before.

Come on Yangyang, think. What should you do?

He fumbled over his few options – play you your favourite music, or buy you your favourite peppermint ice cream with bread from the uncle with the pushcart, or crack a joke. In the end, he decided to go with what he knew the best – comforting you like how you comforted him and Step 1 involved not leaving you alone with your own thoughts by having someone from your side.

Yangyang bolted from his seat, pacing quickly towards the bathroom before stopping outside the white door to rap his knuckles against the door, the rattling motion jolting you out of your stupor.

"Open up. Don't stay in there alone ok?"

"No Yang, please just leave. I'll be fine-" You catch yourself at this part. Are you truly fine? Were you ever truly fine? Whenever others asked you how you're doing, your default answer would be that you're doing fine. Even though you were struggling, the answer would be – "I'm fine." or "I'm doing well." You never wanted others to probe or ask too many questions, admitting to your struggles often made you embarrassed. Worse still, you didn't want family and friends to worry about you. "I'm fine" soon became a reflex, something you said without even processing the question that the other party had asked.

Your train of thoughts were broken when you heard Yangyang's voice travel through the door separating the both of you.

"No, you're not fine. I'm not leaving you alone so please open the door now."

"No Yang, I'm fine- I- just give me a few more minutes. I'll be out soon."

You heard Yangyang sigh heavily, his last words reaching your ears followed by the sounds of his footsteps walking away.

"I'm getting the keys."

"No Yang, don't you dare!"

You tried to raise your voice, but it betrayed you instead, cracking from being overused just now. You stomp your feet in frustration, feeling helpless once again. Yangyang was going to see your wrecked self soon, and there was nothing that you could do to stop it.

 Yangyang quickly sifts through the keys hanging by the front door before making his way back to the bathroom, slotting the key into the lock before twisting the door open. Once again, Yangyang was met by the harsh bite of your tone and words, but he brushed it aside. Your cold words directed against him is the least of his worries now. Comforting you, however, was his main priority.

"I said I'll be alright Yang, why-"

"You're clearly not ok. I know now. You're not ok. You haven't been ok for some time now."

You stood still when you heard him say such things, the words feeling foreign to your ears. No one has ever said those words to you because no one has ever saw through the strong front that you've put up before. Or even if they did, no one thought it was important enough to mention it. Someone finally noticed and cared enough to talk about it, and somehow that revelation made you want to cry again. Seeing you standing there unmoving, Yangyang decided to say something to break the silence again.

"You don't have to be ok all the time. So, would you just stop putting up a front for once, admit that you're not alright, and let me in? Come here."

This time round, you no longer resisted, allowing Yangyang to gently draw you into his embrace as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, rubbing comforting strokes up and down your arms. Fresh tears streamed down your face at Yangyang's gentle gesture; you probably made a mess of his clean shirt but he could care less, that's not important now.

"Cry it out. Cry it out if you have to."

"Stop saying that! You're going to make me cry more."

"And that's completely alright. There's nothing wrong with crying."

"It's so embarrassing to cry – what do you mean there's nothing wrong with crying?"

You heard Yangyang take a deep breath, feel the rise of his chest against your cheek and you mentally prepared yourself for his lecture.

"There really is nothing wrong with needing a good cry to let out all your pent-up frustrations. There's nothing wrong with admitting that you need help, and asking for it. Can you internalize that and remember to come and find me when you're having a hard time? You do the same for me when I'm having a rough time, can you let me do the same for you? Even if you don’t come and find me, make sure you find someone else. Promise me that."

You stayed silent, not sure if you could ever bring yourself to admit being so weak in front of him again.

"Promise me." He shook your shoulders to elicit a response from you and you decided to grace him with a disgruntled muffle; not exactly the response that he was hoping for but he'll take that as a yes for now.

"Good. If you're ready to talk, we can work out how to go about dealing with your assignments and driving ok? Tomorrow we'll go see Professor Wang and get her to elaborate on how to improve your essay. As for driving... maybe take a break first. Like you said, you've been practicing a lot. Maybe too much. Knowing you, you probably went for tons of lessons before your tests. Am I right?"

You nodded weakly against his chest, a wry smile lifting the corners of your lips as memories of your driving lessons are brought to the forefront of your mind.

"Knew it. So, yea... maybe you should take a break. Give yourself time to absorb all that you've learned before you go back for lessons. The break will do you good – trust me on that. I'm only so carefree because I take more breaks than I should." Yangyang chuckled at his own words and you followed suit, your chest rising and falling as you let out soft puffs through your nose.

"Now that we've got a plan out for you, we should do one last thing."

"What is it?"

"We should get ice cream. And then you can rant about your teammates over ice cream. I want to get all that hot piping tea."

For the first time in a long while, you found the heart within yourself to let out a laugh, memories of Yangyang and his animated storytelling of terrible groupmates tickling your sides. Oh, how the tables have turned. It was finally your turn today. 

“So… are we going? Just waiting for your reply now.” 

There was no way that you were going to be able to say no to that, eating ice cream and complaining about people whilst eating was something that you and Yangyang always did; a sacred part of your relationship.

“Alright we can go, but let me wash up first and give my eyes some time to stop being red.” 

“WOOHOO! Ok, we’ll go once you’re ready.”

Both of you fall into comfortable silence again, Yangyang still held onto you in an embrace. 

“Thank you, Yang.”

“You’re welcome. I’m always available if you ever need me. Even if I’m busy, I am going to make time for you so come find me anytime ok?”

“Ok, I’ll remember to come find you next time.”

“There – you said it. You got to promise me. With a pinky swear and stamp.”

Yangyang removed an arm from your shoulder to place his hand in front of your face, his pinky finger sticking out from the rest of his fingers. You lifted your hand to hook onto his pinky before pressing your thumb against his own, using a little more force than usual and Yangyang smiled at that, knowing that it’s your way of saying that “I’m feeling better now. You don’t have to worry so much about me anymore.” 

“Pinky promise is done so you can never break the promise anymore. Oh, we’ll get extra-large scoops of ice cream later, my treat today!” 

“Sounds like a good plan, because I’ve got loads to say about my trashy group mates.”

“Awesome. Been dying to get some gossip lately, and now I’m finally going to get it.” 

You let out another hearty laughter at your best friend’s dramatic self, him following suit but when the laughter finally died down, you got some quiet time to be with your own thoughts again. 

 They often said that your worst enemy is yourself, and maybe that’s true for you. You constantly placed so much pressure on yourself, tearing and beating yourself up when you fell short of your goals because your failure is all that you could see, never the commendable effort that you put in or your perseverance to pull through with all your various responsibilities. You suffered silently by yourself even when the pressure became overwhelming, never one to admit your struggles because you didn’t want to be a burden to others – even when no one ever said you were. But today, you had been proven wrong. No one thought of you as a burden, and no one would say that you’re weak or embarrassing when you asked for help. And that if you did ask for help, those around you would actually come forth to render you their support. That’s what friends are for, to share the good times with, and to pick you up when you fell – and you were extremely lucky to have an understanding friend like Yangyang in your life. After all, no man is an island living in this harsh world alone – it’s easier to get by with help from friends and there will be someone willing to help you, if you’d only just remember to ask. You knew that old habits die hard, and perhaps even after this, you would go back into your shell and old ways. Yet, you’re confident that with a friend like Yangyang, someone would be there to look out for you, and coax you out of your shell whenever you forgot to take care of yourself again.

[the-omni-princess]

Beauty and the Beast (Soulmate AU)

Author: @the-omni-princess​

Summary: You wake up the day after drunkenly meeting your soulmate.

Prompt: “When did you learn how to figure skate?” // “I dunno.”

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Bucky x Latina!(and Mutant!)reader

Warnings: fluff! Hangovers, seriously, so much fluff!!!

A/N:

@bitchassbucky for #abitchassholiday , and the casual sequel to Sleeping Beauty! [Read here!]

-

I’ve been dying to write a Latina!Reader since I’m Latina! Here’s my first one. It's still pretty lowkey tbh but hopefully I can write one where it’s a bit more explicit the reader’s Latina! :D

-

[Masterlist] [First part]

-

Previously….

He did however, let you go, just as you stopped screaming. “Do… do you know who you are?” you tried in a soft voice, still on edge. Where the fuck was Mr. Star Spangled Ass?

“Bucky… My name was Bucky,” he whispered softly, now looking down at his chest where his mark had deepened in color to darker freckles, easily shown on his light skin.

Your eyes widened, looking down at your hand, your own freckles became more pronounced as well. “Holy shit,” you mumbled, just as Steve and Tony burst through the door, making you both jump.

“Bucky?” It took him less time to recover, now noticing both of you skimming your marks with your hands in shock. “Wait… are you two…?” His eyes glanced back and forth between the two marks.

You looked up towards the Super Soldier, unsure how to really explain the dare that tossed you at your soulmate. “Um…. Hi… Soulmate?”

--

James Buchanan Barnes, the infamous sidekick of Captain America, a fact you used to argue about in US History class when you were younger since who would call that hot guy the sidekick?!, just looked at you with a little tilt to his head. “Soulmate?” he murmured softly, looking down at his mark on his chest. His eyes widened as he took in the multitude of darker freckles. He looked back at you, following your own gaze to your hand, where the freckles had darkened on the underside of your palm. “Soulmate…”

“Well… that’s unexpected to say the least,” Steve muttered, both he and Sharon looking on with a bit of amusement.

Bucky looked up, noticing the blond couple for the first time. “Stevie?” His voice cracked, and even in your very buzzed state, you could tell Steve was also a little emotional.

“Hey Buck,” he replied, smiling sadly before looking again towards you.

You were now gripping the table for support, the room starting to spin. “Ay Dios, is the room spinning or is it just me?” Your eyes fluttered a bit, vertigo hitting you full force, just as Bucky rushed forward, catching you before you could hit the ground. You groaned softly, looking up at his face, a goofy smile lighting up your features. “Oh, yeah. You’re my soulmate. You know, I always thought you were cuter than Cap. Think I have a thing from brunet boys with pretty blue eyes, and your eyes are way more blue than I could have imagined with those black and white photos,” you continued to ramble, babbling on as the trio watched in amusement.

“First meeting with her literal other half, and she’s wasted,” Sharon sighed softly, now looking at you with pity.

“And the reindeer- hey! I’m not wasted!” You cried out before going back to your rambles.

Bucky just looked up at her, smiling faintly, as he held you up, “I can handle a drunk dame, better than my ma, she was a cursing drunk.”

Steve chuckled, helping Bucky lead you, very slowly towards the common room where you promptly passed out snuggled on a blanket on the sofa, completely oblivious to the fact that the former Winter Soldier was being introduced to the Avengers, while all he did was watch over you.

--

Searing pain lit up behind your eyes, and your temple was definitely throbbing. Groaning, you reached around your bed for your phone, freezing when you realized you were most definitely not in a bed. You looked down and groaned, you were also still in the party dress from last night, wrapped in a blanket that was also most definitely not yours. You inspected it, noticing the little cobwebs and widow symbols on the fluffy blanket. So, you were wrapped in Natasha’s blanket, the one you got her for her birthday last year as a joke. Looking around, you also realized you were in the main living common area in the tower.

“FRIDAY? How’d I get here?” you called out, groaning softly as you clutched your temples. You were most definitely hungover.

“I can answer that,” a voice called, one you recognized as Steve.

“Lower your voice, you menace, I’m nursing a shitty hangover.” You pulled the blanket over your face, covering yourself from the lights.

“We’re well aware of that, dollface,” a new voice joined in.

You stiffened, slowly dropping the blanket and looking at the man in front of you in surprise. “Hey Steve? I haven’t gotten drunk in a while, are hallucinations normal for being hungover?”

“Nope, I’m real.” Bucky stood, before kneeling beside you. “How much of last night do you remember?”

You gripped the blanket tighter, feeling a bit more exposed than you would like. “Last night? Why would I need-“ your voice died as you looked down at your hands, realizing the freckles that covered the palm of your left hand were darker. “Holy shit, please don’t tell me I met my soul mate and I was too wasted to remember,” you groaned, pouting up at Sharon who walked in. “You get a perfect, they-were-neighbors story, and I get the I-was-drunk story.”

“Not everyone can meet their soulmate because they literally bumped into them, besides,” Steve nodded towards Bucky, who was still kneeling beside the couch. “You literally fell for him.”

You looked back towards the brunet with horror written on your face. “Please tell me it wasn’t as cliché as Mr. Dramatically Yeets Himself Off of Planes Without Parachutes is making it out to be.”

“What does ‘yeet’ mean?” Bucky gave you a small confused look, one you have to admit was pretty cute. Okay fine, maybe he was your type. Dark-haired, pretty eyes, cute dimples when he was smiling. Okay so he was gringo, you could work with that.

“Throw, well basically,” you supplied, much to Steve’s horror.

“You do WHAT?!” Bucky cried out, making Steve cringe, and you whimper softly, closing your eyes in pain.

“Welp, we’ll let you two get well acquainted, sober at least,” Steve grabbed Sharon’s hand and hightailed out of the room.

Bucky didn’t give them a second look, now focused on you. “Damn, I’m sorry, after all your rambles last night I still forgot you would be hungover. Here,” he gently gave you some aspirin and water, which you promptly downed. “How about we do this right? I’m Bucky.”

“I’m well aware of who you are. Used to have fights with my friend in high school because she thought Steve was the cutest Howling Commando, when it was clearly you. Why am I still rambling?”

“It’s quite alright, I find it cute,” he gave you a bright smile, and your heart fluttered for a second.

You chuckled softly, smiling at him before sitting up, making room for him on the sofa as you told him your full name. “But that’s just the government name, everyone ‘round here calls me y/n/n, or FireCracker but that’s usually just Tony.” You gave him a smile.

“Why FireCracker?”

“Well, two reasons. One, I tend to keep talking and say my mind. And two,” you held up your hand, letting flames cover your fingers before they died out again. “I have powers…I hope that’s alright by you,” you whispered softly. Truth was, both the fact that you were Latina and were a Mutant were reasons you were teased and mocked growing up in all-white schools in the South. It was another reason who were so quick to join the Avengers when you were offered the chance. More diverse, and more accepting people. In theory at least.

“God, that looks absolutely amazing! Can you do it again?” Bucky gushed, eyes lighting up as he watched your powers. You smiled shyly, letting a small flame light up your palm. “Does it hurt?” He asked softly.

“Only if I want it to,” you looked up at him, caught a little off guard that he would be so interested in your powers instead of scared, it usually took people more time to get used to it.

“Woah,” he murmured, eyes wide as he took in the flames.

You smiled bashfully, secretly excited that he liked your powers. The flames died out, soon revealing the freckles again. Bucky hesitantly took your hand in his, his thumb rubbing over the freckles that marked the first place you touched, two souls finally coming back together again.

“How about I take you on a date, doll? A real one, since our first meeting didn’t go as expected.”

You blushed, nodding with a smile. “I know just the thing! We can go to the Rockefeller Ice Skating Rink, take in the whole Christmas season.”

His eyes lit up, “That ice rink is still there?!” he cried out, excitement thinly vied in his voice. “Gosh, I remember Stevie falling face-first when we were younger, had to patch up that nasty bruise on his cheek and a broken nose. Ma was pissed we went without my sisters.”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you took in his joy. “I’ll take you, Bucky.”

--

“Well… its certainly different from when I was last here,” Bucky’s grip on your mittened hand tightened. Buried underneath scarves and jackets, Bucky helped you pull your beanie down. He naturally ran warm because of the serum, so he didn’t need as many heavy coats in the cold winter weather. You however, were more used to warmer climates, and this cold weather was not agreeing with you.

“Good different?” You took the skates from the attendant, handing Bucky his before attempting to tie up your own.

“Well the tree’s certainly bigger,” he chuckled, noticing your struggle to lace your skates up and helping you before tugging you onto your feet. Shimmying to the rink itself, gripping onto each other as the earth became ice underneath your feet. You yelped, clinging to him as he guided you on the ice. “And I have my soulmate in my arms, being an adorable mess,” he teased, chuckling as you shot him a glare.

“That’s no fair Buck! When did you learn how to figure skate?” You looked up at him incredulously, still struggling despite the fact that he was holding most of your weight up.

“I dunno.” He teased right back, a smug grin on his lips.

“Ya know, if I knew you would have been this self-satisfied, I would have just done a Christmas movie marathon with you instead, get you well acquainted with movies of this century,” you shot back, giving him a look that sent him into a fit of giggles – actual giggles.

“Well doll, the night’s young, and you have plenty to teach me.” He pulled you closer, making you realize you were dead center in the rink, a suspicious flash in the distance making you notice Nat taking picture of you two. He gently tilted your head up, locking eyes with you. “I just found you, dollface, I’m never letting you go,” he smirked, “my clumsy little soulmate.”

“Call me little or clumsy again and I’ll roast your ass, Barnes, literally,” you growled playfully, giving him a mischievous look, which told him you didn’t really mean it.

He smiled, his hand gently holding onto your face, “I look forward to it, doll,” he murmured, the distance between the two of you closing.

Closing the distance, you kissed him tenderly, arms wrapped around his neck, ignoring the flashes most definitely coming from Natasha. Here, cuddled up in your soulmate’s embrace, the hand that first touched right over his heart was now pressed against his cheek as you kissed. Surrounded by Christmas lights, sweet Holiday music, and children’s laughter as they skated around you two, it felt like your very own piece of a Hallmark movie. And who were you to disagree with Fate?

------

Tags:

Permanent Tags:

@minetticatinwonderland​  / @lumar014​ / @maniacproffesor​ / @gollyderek​ / @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ / @avengerstones​ / @momc95​ / @loving-life-my-way​ / @agentpeggybarnes​ / @marvelmaree​ / @thefridgeismybestie​ / miraclesoflove  / hello-fanfiction-goodbye-grades  / deathofmissjackson

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings​  / @darkness-doughter​ / @novaddictx​​ / @thedancingnerdmermaid​ / @mood-pancakes​ / @gracethegeek9902​ / @ravennightingaleandavatempus​ / @sunkissedbarnes​​ / @annavega333​ / @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​

Some people who requested a sequel (lol):

@xetoilerouge / @amlocked​ / @bitsandbobsandstuff​

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

[a-very-fond-farewell]

The forbidden crack! Untamed prompts: 18/?

University AU: “Negative Space”

[ok so, self projection is a bitch, but I am petty to myself on a regular basis so it’s ok]

[title is from the Japanese concept “ma”, which Wikipedia describes as:

“a Japanese word which can be roughly translated as ‘gap’, ‘space’, ‘pause’ or ‘the space between two structural parts.’ In traditional Japanese arts and culture, ma is more carefully defined as the suggestion of an interval. It is best described as a consciousness of a sense of place, with the ‘intervals’ suggested often being more than simple gaps, instead focusing on the intention of a negative space in an art piece.

Ma is not necessarily an art concept created by compositional elements, such as the literal existence of a negative space. Instead, the intention is often to create the perception of an interval in the viewer experiencing the elements forming an art piece, making maless reliant on the existence of a gap, and more closely related to the perceived experience of a gap.

Ma has also been described as ‘an emptiness full of possibilities, like a promise yet to be fulfilled’, and as ‘the silence between the notes which make the music’.”

Fun fact: “ma” also means “but” in Italian, which is what usually follows whatever intrusive thought may plague my mind. Eg: “I may be useless now, BUT just you wait until I get some dopamine to get me through this shitty times.”]

*

Wei Ying never asked for much in his life. He’s content with cleaning classrooms and toilets and nobody can beat him at wiping the marble floors if he works hard enough. Granny Wen, his supervisor, is slightly impressed with his ability to make the wood shine for ages to come. His nephew Jin Ling sometimes comes to check on him when he’s done with senior classes or cram school in the evening, and together they sit down and listen to whatever his older friends in music production came up with during the day. Jiang Cheng occasionally would ask him to keep him company while he grades papers and they bitch about ZiXuan and his inability to dote on their sister. The cafeteria ladies are always nice to him and they give him extra congee because they worry for his questionable consumption of spice products.

He’s fine, really.

So why can’t he stop wandering over to the science building these days? Looking for a clean board to use, for an equation to finally solve? Even if in the end he just takes the chalk in hand and simply stares down at the inky surface in front of him, unable to write. His mind working on a software too advanced for the hardware that constitutes his brain.

Thirteen years. It has been already thirteen years and yet it feels like yesterday, or like it never happened at all. Like it has yet to be. Time blindness is a bitch to deal with, yet dyscalculia and ADHD makes a joke out of you when you love math on a visceral level... but you burned too bright too fast and now you function on no data and with an even shittier signal. Having a burnout at 23 should have taught him humility instead of pride, but Wei Ying has always worked out of spite and certain habits are difficult to forget.

Couldn’t put the number in the right order, switching digits left and right since he was young? Fine. Numbers were concepts anyway, entire civilizations working their magic without even knowing what “zero” stood for. A brain steaming with a million ideas per second? Good. New connections brimming with ideas he could use to better the world.

It worked fine until he let himself down. Until he became a useless empty lighter, a wet match tossed out, carbon monoxide in the air.

Dropped out before finishing his very ambitious, highly dangerous for his psyche, thesis project. Aunt Yu never forgave him for that, not after paying for his advanced classes, not after trusting Uncle Jiang and supporting him despite his many flaws. What good is being first of your class every year, poster child of a teaching system done right, graduating bachelor at 21, if you can’t finish your master at 23 and get your PhD at 25 and start teaching by 27 and drive yourself insane in the process?

Wei Ying dropped out and didn’t finish his master, didn’t enroll in the teaching program, and let everyone down. His Uncle and Aunt looking down on him, whether out of pity or shame. Jiang Cheng may have been the one leaving him behind, but he used to be the one saying “you should have tried harder”. YanLi worrying over him when she should have focused on her career first. Jin Ling growing up with stories of his uncle “not being worth the money put into his education”, taught to not disappoint and make his family proud. The Jin side, that is.

And now the kid comes crawling in defeat to him instead of Jiang Cheng after bombing a test in high school. And they chat of what he would like to do and how much he likes sports and how much he despises the idea of getting a scholarship for that and being called stupid or something by his classmates. And he cries when he thinks Wei Ying cannot see him as he leaves the campus late at night.

Wei Ying didn’t even want to solve that impossible theorem he fixated on in his early twenties. His thesis project was inconsequential in the great scheme of things and his professor only wanted him to be his one trick pony in the end. No. Wei Ying wanted to teach math in elementary school, hell... even in kindergarten. He wanted to change the approach to the subject. Because numbers cannot be taught like language is and there are many ways to teach how to sum up digits and divide quantities and there are no rules on how to make sense of space either.

But how can he teach when even time eludes his senses?

Something that nobody can define, but certainly most perceive as linear... but not him. Not since his brain fried up in his attempt to function like a normal human being.

After thirteen years nothing has changed.

Until one day he hears something else aside from his usual intrusive thoughts and burdensome memories. A melody so quiet he almost mistakes it for the wind, coming from the music building.

He walks slowly, night surrounding him like the embrace of a friend as he makes his way to the traditional musical instruments room. The one where Jin Ling’s friends meet sometimes as they wait for the younger boy to join them. Wei Ying holds his breath as he spies through the gap of the door left ajar, neon light slicing his face like moonbeams as he peeks in and recognizes Jin Ling’s friends and another figure sitting on the ground, guqin on their knees.

But before he can lean in and breathe in the vibrant sounds all around, the door opens and music theory Professor Lan finds Wei Ying clutching his mop for dear life.

They said the man could see colors within the notes, that he despises language outside of his class or office and that only his brother, the history of art TA, could convince him to talk every now and then.

If numbers were created to measure space, Wei Ying firmly believed music had been invented to make sense of time and count its seconds in rhythm and notes, pauses and beats. Yet, time seems to stretch to a stop as the janitor focuses all of his attention on professor Lan’s stern face and his heart quickens its pace.

Wei Ying takes a rushed breath and dives right in with a weird sense of hope pumping in his veins. A small, timid voice whispering that life is not made to be atoned, but to move on and grow.

One step at a time.

“I’m Wei Ying, Professor Lan. May I listen while you play?”

Yes, maybe it will be enough just to let time flow at its pace.

Whatever rhythm that may be.

*

[some hcs down below]

WWX does not magically solve the math theorem. he may or may not help kids figure out how to use numbers on the long run tho. no, he will still work as a janitor and there’s nothing wrong with that.

yes, LWJ is autistic and stimms and finds WWX’s honesty soothing. yes, you can add your hcs on the matter. he has synesthesia, but more on the grapheme-color side of the deal than anything else and he sees certain letters/numbers/notes in different colors. people think he can see colors in music, but they misunderstood and thought he could recognize different hues while listening to music instead of reading it.

JC has grown since his uni years and doesn’t resent WWX anymore. he teaches astrophysics as a TA and doesn’t pressure his brother to pick his studies up anymore. WWX has mixed feelings about this: he feels he’s a lost cause, to the point not even his brother spurs him to best himself anymore, but he is grateful for the patience anyway.

LXC is the official LWJ translator of the campus along with their cousins SiZhui and JinGyi. he bonds with WWX and JC over how tired they are, seldom staring at flies roaming above them in the cafeteria bc none of them can even move. he lives on caffeine and regrets, but he’s getting better as he develops a love for his plant babies and tries to not let them die on a daily basis.

Wen Ning and Wen Qing are little overachievers and adrenaline junkies, hence their competitive streak on their way to their third master degree just for funsies. they scare people with how driven they are, but the juniors love them.

NMJ is the one to go to if you need to get away with murder, but JGY will actually be the one helping you dispose of the body. the fact that they both work in criminal law is somewhat both reassuring and disquieting. they hate each other and yet cannot stop hang out, they are close to 40 and need the rivalry to keep going anyway. nothing beats a good nemesis. not even sex. maybe.

NHS has failed his entrance exam to become a nurse too many times to count, but he is determined to see the end of it. even if he could potentially work in the family business, but he doesn’t know anything about managing an empire of bricks and he doesn’t care. if NMJ could run away, well, so can he.

MianMian is Wei Ying’s bestie and has the biggest crush on JGY’s sister A-Su the kindergarten teacher, but since they are childhood besties she doesn’t know how to approach her. she is Jin Ling’s idol and a certified boxer and refers to herself as a useless bisexual. Wei Ying boxes with her sometimes, she always win.

YanLi is an equestrian mum, but in the best way possible: she coaches children for shows and teaches them horses should be loved and feared equally and that if you want to shoot arrows from a running horse you should always, ALWAYS let go of the stirrups the moment the beast gets too unhinged to ride. JC fears her, WWX is only glad she didn’t train police dogs for a living.

ZiXuan actually loves his wife, but WWX and JC question his career choices and the fact that he’s a retired lawyer spending his family fortune while he’s a stay-at-home dad and does all the housework. WWX and JC believe he should give their sister a better life and work his ass off to deserve her, but he does make amazing rice cakes and keeps up with Jin Ling’s studies and is very supportive of his dreams.

A-Qing and Song Lan are siblings and sometimes bring JC food from the campus cafeteria where they both work at, while Xiao XingChen and his carer Xue Yang work with LXC for a project on accessibility for visually impaired visitors of the local museum. JC and LXC work to make Song Lan and Xiao XingChen fall for each other, but the youngsters are too protective to let them play matchmaker so easily.

[this is all for now. please, if you want, add your own headcanons!]

[patandpran]

The Nuisance and the Handsome Prince - A Sarawatine Medieval AU - Chapter 2

Tine is an aspiring Squire who has been training his whole life to work alongside the Kingdom's finest Knights. Sarawat is a Prince who, on the outside, seems fierce and unapproachable. He is disinterested in any of his royal duties, namely his Knight training.

What happens when Tine is assigned to be the fierce and handsome prince's Squire?

Aka The Medieval AU that I can't get out of my head.

Read on Archiveofourown here, Read the prequel by the lovely @sarawatism here

His new living quarters were nicer than any room he had ever set foot in and yet, Tine was still quite disappointed by the current arrangement. He ran his hands along the fine wood that made up his bed frame and flopped down onto the downy comfort of his new bed. He had been shocked when the king announced that he would be Prince Sarawat’s Squire and the reality of how quickly his life had changed had not quite yet sunk in.

Tine’s stomach grumbled and he was sure it was due to the fact that he was so uncomfortable about having to face the prince at some point in the near future. Sarawat was widely known to be cold and closed off and even though Tine had seen a hint of a different side of Sarawat during a brief interaction a decade ago, he was wondering if any of that version of the Prince existed anymore. Based on the way that Sarawat had turned his nose up during the Squire Trials, Tine doubted that any kindness remained in the Prince’s personality.

The room had a hearth where a low fire was flickering down to its embers. Tine shivered slightly but figured it was more due to the nerves he was experiencing than the lack of heat. He was used to being somewhat cold as there had been points where his fathers business had not done as well and they had been forced to live through winters without firewood. His family had been forced to sleep crowd together at night to stay warm and, looking back, it was some of the happiest times he remembered ever experiencing in his eighteen years.

Even though he had only technically been away from his family for the course of a single day, Tine was aching to see them. His mother no doubt had prepared a celebratory stew for Tine’s arrival home, no matter what the results of his first Squires trail had turned out to be. His family would have been proud no matter what, even if he had returned home without a position. A letter had likely been sent to his parents and Ohm’s father had hopefully passed only the news of Tine’s appointment as Prince Sarawat’s Squire.

In theory, Tine should be full to brim with pride but the conflicting feelings he was experiencing based on his own upbringing to always question authority, his past encounter with the Prince and his own driving reason to join the Squireship in the first place all burned within him, pulling Tine in different directions. He hoped that his family would not worry about him too much but he sensed that their dinner would be held in a worried silence instead of having a celebratory air.

Tine was not sure when he was going to see them again but he expected it would be at least a fortnight before he could get even a moment of free time. He had yet to receive a notice with the training schedule for the coming weeks but he was quite sure there would not be a free moment to even catch his breath. This was what he wanted but now his dream was somewhat tainted by the specific position that he had been given and what happened in his past.

The reminder of his father’s past weighed on him and the abuse that he had endured to produce a sword for the Head Knight. Tine was instantly thankful that he had brought the sword that his father had forged for him to the Trials that day as it was his sole reminder of his family. His other personal possessions, as few as they were, would likely been delivered in the coming days so he was happy to have the reminder of home and his duty that he would be able to carry with him everywhere.

A tentative knock sounded on the thick door that pulled Tine from his thoughts. He immediately crossed the room and quickly pulled opened it. A shy looking court servant with a short haircut stood holding a tray with a folded piece of parchment with a dark red wax seal pressing it closed and a bowl of steaming broth. The seal looked fresh so the message must have been recently written and made Tine excited to read the events that would be unfolding in the next few days.

“May I come in, Squire Tine?” The servant asked and Tine opened the door wider to allow him to enter the room.

The title was foreign but made Tine swell slightly with pride. The servant placed the silver tray down onto the table beside the bed, bowed to Tine curtly and began to make his way out of the room before Tine objected, “Please, you don’t have to bow to me. I’m not higher than you in rank and even if I was, you don’t need to do that.”

The servant froze and his eyes widened in surprise at Tine’s words. Tine knew he probably should not have been so bold but he quickly walked closer to the servant and asked, “I’m sorry. I just figure that we are going to be seeing a lot of each other and we might as well operate as equals… What is your name?”

Tine was not going to give up his morals just because he was working under the roof of those his father always questioned in quiet. While Tine had not intended to land within the castle walls, it just meant he was one step closer to his goal of avenging his father.

“Fong.” The servant still looked slightly terrified but seemed to be somewhat more comfortable with Tine. “We will never be equals but thank you for extending such a kindness toward me. We will see each other many times a day so I suppose it is appropriate for us to become familiar but I should not keep you any longer.”

Tine instantly noticed just how skinny Fong was and noticed that the portion of stew he had been given would be more than enough to fill his stomach. While he was eager to read the letter, he should take advantage of Fong’s company and share his meal with his only current ally inside the castle walls.

“You’re going to share this meal with me.” Tine declared and transferred the silver tray to the stone floor. He knew that Fong wouldn’t dare to deny an order by someone who technically had a higher rank than him and he saw a flash of gratefulness in his new friend’s eyes.

“I don’t know if I should…” Fong mumbled but defied his words by sitting down across from Tine. “But if you insist!”

Tine’s eyes lit up, happy to have some company to share his first meal in his new home and to already be making a connection with another member of the Royal staff. It also could be a valuable friendship to have considering Fong probably had quite a bit of knowledge about the inner workings of the castle and familiarity with the royal family. Tine and Fong broke bread and began to share their first meal together.

A few bites in, Tine cleared his throat and decided he was going to start his research with a question about his new employer. “Can you tell me anything about Prince Sarawat that I should know considering I am going to be working so closely with his Highness?” Fong choked slightly and a look of reluctance passed over his face before he composed himself. The look was more than enough information for Tine to begin to form his current opinion on the Prince even if Fong did not choose to give him any other response.

And yet, after a few moments Fong did answer. “Prince Sarawat is quite private and always has been. He has few members of the court that he chooses to interact with but the ones that he allows closer never leave his side. Sir Man and Sir Boss are constantly flanking him and Prince Phukong worships the ground that his elder brother walks on, despite Prince Sarawat’s cold demeanour. The King and Queen have tried relentlessly to encourage the Prince to interact with others but his indifference is quite apparent. Many ladies of the court have tried to crack his difficult outer shell but none have succeeded thus far aside from Lady Earn but there is nothing romantic between them. He seems to regard her as a sister. The most bizarre relationship he has is with Lord Mil, the son of the Head Knight. They seem to be amicable enough but their fathers have them in constant competition with one another so their friendship has always seemed quite strained…”

It turned out that Fong was a bit of a gossip than Tine had expected and Tine couldn’t have been happier about which servant had been assigned to him. Fong looked up at Tine and a look of horror passed over his face. “I fear that I have spoken too candidly.”

“No, Fong, thank you.” Tine answered with a grin on his face. “Please know that nothing that has passed through your lips will be shared beyond these walls… I sense that the two of us are going to be great friends.”

Fong relaxed instantly and took one last spoonful of stew before bouncing up to his feet. “I am sorry to leave you so quickly but I must return to my duties but I agree. It is so refreshing to have someone show me some kindness within the castle. Most of the lords and ladies just ignore me so… thank you.”

Tine nodded before Fong dashed off to get back to his work which left Tine alone with the mysterious letter on the silver tray. The wax seal had dried more completely and when Tine picked it up for a closer study, he noticed that the seal had an insignia of a wolf upon it. He turned the parchment over and over in his hands contemplating the contents before dragging his thumb along the centre to open it.

Inside was a message scrawled in messy scripture:

Meet me in the East Tower at Midnight.

There was no signature at the bottom of the message and Tine’s heart raced with the anonymity of the letter. He wondered if it was some sort of trick to see if he would be loyal to the crown and he suddenly became suspicious of the sender’s intentions. It also could be some kind of initiation process instated by the Head Knight which lit a small flame of rage inside of Tine.

It flickered just enough to motivate Tine to jump to his feet. He looked out the window to see that night had fallen and decided he would make his way to the tower to discover the meaning behind the mystery message. At such a late hour, the halls of the castle were quiet and Tine was quite an expert at slinking around soundlessly.

While Tine did not the exact layout of the castle, he had always had a strong sense of direction and was familiar enough with how the castle looked from the outside to be able to locate the East tower without much trouble. He was not sure if it was quite midnight but he found a staircase with a Wolf insignia that matched the image from the seal of his letter which assured him that he had arrived at his destination.

The stairwell was shadowed but Tine had never been one to shy away from the dark. The thing that made him nervous was the fact that he had no idea what he was about to walk into. It was quite quiet in the stairwell as he ascended but an ambush could be waiting at the top of the stairs so he made sure to put a readied hand on the hilt of his sword.

At the top of the stairs there was a beautiful door made out of thick oak wood with a carving of a fierce looking wolf. The image startled Tine slightly but he forced himself to regain his composure as he lifted his had to knock on the door. Before he could lay a hand upon the knocker, the door creaked open.

Tine shivered slightly before taking a deep breath. No matter what he was about to walk into, he was not going to let whatever he was going to face get the better of him. He had displayed his skills as a fighter and a problem solver during the Trials earlier that day so he knew he could handle whatever was beyond the door.

He walked into a room that was lit dimly with candles and heard a haunting melody playing on what sounded like a lute. Tine looked around the room and quickly took in his surroundings. The space appeared to be a study of some sort and as Tine entered the room, the music suddenly stopped.

“I wasn’t sure you if you received my message.” A voice sounded from behind a tall chair which made Tine freeze.

The voice was familiar but Tine could not quite place it. A shadow played along the stone wall of the tower as the speaker rose to his feet, placing the instrument on the chair that they had just risen from. Tine watched and squinted to try to decipher who the figure was.

“I apologize for my tardiness.” Tine responded, unsure of how proper he needed to keep his delivery as he still could not tell who his host was. He decided to be a bit bold and continued, “Do you usually sit alone in the darkness and brood while playing music?”

“You don’t appreciate the decor of the East tower? I will try not to take offence considering I was the one who made the design choices.” The voice continued, a hint of amusement in the tone, and the figure it belonged to slowly made its way into the light.

Tine instantly regretted his words when he saw who was standing in front of him with a smirk on his lips: Prince Sarawat.

[ultfashionista]

so like,, sentimonster adrien huh... here we go

okay first off let me say no i don’t think senti-adrien is gonna be canon yes i know it’s a crack theory but i saw the opportunity for angst and i fell head over heels

first off, let’s say that adrien died. how it happened doesn’t matter, take your pick of whatever random accident your heart desires, but he died. emilie and gabriel (or at least emilie), rich superpowered recluses, are heartbroken over this. the loss of a child can do mess with a person’s mind, after all. and it’s enough heartbreak to make emilie snap, just a little, and bend the rules of using the peacock miraculous for her own personal gain. 

so emilie, lost without her son, decides to make a new one.

but, as is obvious, it doesn’t work. or, it does, but at a great expense. 

it makes sense for adrien to be at least a little grown at the time of his accident; he grew up with chloe, and based on what we know, sentimonsters don't seem to grow. so, say he died at around the age of 12, maybe a little older. easy enough for his parents to write off any strange differences in his personality as "oh, he’s growing up. becoming a teenager. you know how it is.” so he lived happily in the mansion with his parents, with emilie controlling him and keeping him alive, until the strain of the peacock miraculous finally took over her body and she became comatose.

okay, now getting to the canon-proof-that-isn’t-really-proof-bc-this-shit-won’t-be-canon:

adrien's allergic to feathers

...yes, this sounds sort of like a ridiculous connection, and a bit of a stretch, but i think that the fact that sentimonsters are created using feathers, and adrien has a strong allergy to them is amusing. as if his body knows that feathers are a part of what created him and what can also destroy him, and its solution to that is to try to keep him far away from them at all times

perfection

adrien is called perfect (or something similar) a lot. like, a lot a lot. by marinette, by chloe, and:

it’s almost drilled into us. adrien is perfect, perfect, perfect.

and then, “she’s so perfect, there’s nothing monstrous about her at all!”

perfection is so crucial to Adrien and his character, whether it’s from marinette, or his father, or from adrien himself insisting that he’s not perfect. he’s supposed to be the perfect obedient son, and the perfect model. sentimonsters are created to be perfect, and obedient, and obey whoever created them. granted, adrien has free will, but in this... au, i guess, the person who created him is in a coma. gabriel doesn’t use the peacock miraculous. nathalie is not the person who would have created him (and likely wouldn’t know where his amok is anyway). neither of them have any power over him, neither of them can force him to obey.

gabriel is... like that

he doesn’t care about adrien; or he does, in his own warped, really god-awful way. he literally let adrien jump off of a building, and actually hesitated in letting ladybug save him. if adrien was a sentimonster, falling from that height, while painful, may not do as much damage to him as it would do to a normal human; sentimonsters, akumatised people, and miraculous holders have a stronger pain threshold than normal people (perks of being a superhero). but hey, can’t let my son smack into the sidewalk and get up perfectly fine, gotta keep up appearances right?

plus, as much as he loves adrien (“love” being used generously here), he’s abusive, there’s no denying that. full of resentment. partially due to adrien just, y’know, existing, partially because he doesn’t always obey, and partially because he could blame senti-adrien for emilie’s death

going slightly off of the “perfect” train of thought, but still sort of linked. adrien hasn’t been modelling for long. 

he’s around his canon age here, maybe a year or so younger. gabriel mentored him and got him into it, persuaded him to start. there’s always a chance this is because now, with emilie gone, there’s no one to fawn over and adore adrien anymore, and gabriel doesn’t want him around (he’s too much of a distraction, too much of a reminder of emilie’s death), so what better way to get him out of the house than for him to literally work for gabriel? that way he’s useful too.

(credits for insp & photos: (x) (x))

i had more points, but honestly, i’m done with this now. 

TLDR: sentimonster adrien has rlly vague hints that could be linked if you sort of squint a little and don’t look too hard, and i’m in love with the angst potential

[elecilaombre]

Alone

 This fic was originally wrote in french, and I struggled quite a lot to translate it without spoiling the meaning behind the words. It’s Tim centric and an “Stalker AU” ( I guess) in a no cape AU, idk... anyway, it’s quite long, around 8k words ... Also it is one of my work who are kind of important for me so I hope you will enjoy it ! And a big thanks to @crypterion-moon who kindly corrected it and helped me to translate it in a correct english, you are a blessing ! And to you @nanadrawsrobins who wanted to read it ! Happy reading !

// trigger warning : mention of paranoia, depression, suicide, death, blood and stalker \\ I don’t believe it’s too hardcore but better safe than not....

“ At first it was just an impression,as if I was being followed, or spied on. From time to time, I’d turn and catch a glimpse of a leaking form. But it was alright, my fault, I always blamed my lack of sleep for those apparitions. Or maybe it was only me being too suspicious for no reason. Indeed, at first, it was only feeling, a bad one…

But suddenly it became more, so much more. Now, I saw - no, I felt - a presence always behind me, close to me. I could catch sight of this thing that was always following me, my eyes seeing glimpse of his silhouette. I was starting to be afraid of turning around and see it there right before me. Never would I have believed that it could have got worse, I thought things would improve, it couldn’t be any worse that how it was now. Except that it didn’t. I couldn’t explain exactly how or when, but the presence kept getting closer and closer. I just shouldn’t let it go by, and I learned that the hard way, the day I heard him breathing, from somewhere inside my own bedroom. He was there. In my own house. Stalking me.

I stayed awake until dawn that night, paralysed with fear … I don’t believe I have slept since …That doesn’t matter right now !

My main point is that I am being followed. Spied on. They are here, somewhere, even while I’m talking to you right now.

Even when I walk in the main hall, with their steps echoing with mine.

Even when I hold my breath, will I am lying stiffly in my bed, I can hear them just before they held their own breath, a moment too late.

Sometimes … Sometimes I swear they are whispering things, cold and dead things.

So, please, I am begging you, help me. I am tired, exhausted. I haven’t had a real night of sleep in days, weeks. I live off coffee and caffeine. And I am so terrified. Not just creeped out… It’s a chilling fear that fills my body.

But you, who is always there, present in every corner of this damn apartment. You, you must have seen them. Even if it’s only once. Just tell me where they are ! Who they are !

Oh I’m begging you, you are me, I am you… So why wouldn’t you help me. To save me ? To save us !”

Tim then fell silent and raised his head toward his reflect. He gave him a sad little smile and the other offered him a crazed one. To think he was alone with this fool.

A cold anger had begun to pervade him, will the other face took on an awful look, deformed by hatred. It made Tim gone berserk.

“ And you dare mock me ! Mock everything that happened to me ? They are going to kill me ! Or worst … Abduct me ! And you think it’s funny ? That is fucking unbelievable ! I surely hope from the bottom of my heart they will butcher you too, maybe that will be enough to erase that stupid smile off your face !”

The other was mimicking him, each one of his ticks, like a grotesque mockery of himself. 

And even if Tim heard the door opening, it didn’t stopped his fist to crash against the other face, sending blood everywhere in the process. Cracking the mirror so violently that the glass shattered, sending tiny little pieces everywhere, glasses sinking into Tim’s flesh.

He was done. Already dead. His only hope, himself from the other side, wasn’t there anymore, didn’t wanted to help him.

Tim let himself fall on his knee, surrounded by glass debris, and began to cry. To sob, hysterically, hiccuping and eyes dilated. Smile distorted on his face. However, he still had enough clarity to have heard Stephanie coming in, exclaiming softly, her voice so warm, so reassuring, this was all her. Even her footsteps were soft and calming, as well as her scent or warmth of her skin. 

He let himself go against her, eyes stubbornly closed,crying harder, sinking into her arms, her embrace into her, her, and just her. Tim was now crying because he knew. He knew she wasn’t - and couldn’t - be here. He murmured it again and again, she wasn’t here but Oh how he wished for it.

And when he opened his eyes again, Stephanie was, indeed, not within sight. He was alone and he was hallucinating. Tim was just so tired. He rubbed his eyes,trying to rid them of the burning and got up. He could just go to bed. He could finish taking care of his wound and just go to sleep, to take a well deserved rest. Or he could just finish the bandage, make himself a coffee and finish his paperworks. Yeah, that sounded about right. And when he said it out loud, tasting each word like adrénaline, giving them more strength, more tangibility in his weaken mind … He thought he heard a laugh, someone chuckling quietly. 

But, well, at this point, was it even important ?

*************************

“I feel like I am losing it… Or I might already had lost my mind. I … I saw Bruce. I saw him yesterday, in a coffee shop. I walked right by him and I just… Runaway ! 

You know as well as I do that he died, he died too. I am just so exhausted, I can’t do this anymore. I keep seeing each one of them one by one. All those I lost, my brain keeps making them reappear… Or maybe it’s the caffeine that’s making them seems so real.

I really want to sleep now. I don’t think I can’t keep doing this. Or it might be my body craving another dose of coffee … What do you think ?”

The lightbulb sizzled a little, then shut down. Tim sighed, basking in the dark, water clapping softly with the rhythm of his breath. Actually, Tim was quite relaxed right now, even with the lack of sleep. So relaxed he might even let himself sink into Morpheus arms. Might.

The water from the bath was steaming, the bathroom clammy. Tim felt his head nod, sinking softly little bit by little bit in the water, which kept lapping slower and slower as his breath calmed. His mind got fuzzy, forgetting Bruce his deceased father. Or Stephanie, his rotting best friend. Forgetting about the one from the other side, about this foreign breath getting closer.

Then, the clapping intensified, the water rising suddenly, submerging Tim’s face. Tim’s who was panicking, feeling a hand settle on his upper thigh while someone breathed against him. 

He then tried to straighten, in full panic, spitting water swallowed by error. Tim slipped, water submerging him once again but still found a way to get out, yelling as loud he could, crying, terrorised. He threw himself right to the door, almost ripping of the knob, ejecting himself in the corridor, feeling a hand brushing against his neck.

Naked, Tim ran past the living room, directly in the kitchen, slipping on the wet floor. He ended by collapsing in there, clutching a knife against his body, breath loud… 

And after five minutes of dead calm silence, Tim found the courage to light up the place. 

No one. There was nobody. Not even in the bathroom or in any other rooms. He saw nobody.

He was trembling, fear and adrenaline still pumping through his body. 

Tim cried all that night, sleep seemed impossible. So he just cried until the sun rose, incapable of putting the knife down or to do anything else than to trace over and over the finger shaped bruise on his tight. 

The mark was just confirming his theory, giving a sense of reality to this invisible threat and revealing a new problem : the stalker was done just following. Now they wanted contact and proximity. And so they had ambushed him in the bath.

*******************************

“I am a mess. A living trash. I see things, peoples, events that aren’t real. Yesterday, someone chased me in the street. For something that felt like half and hour. I wouldn’t even had thought I was able to run for so long, not in my state.

And you would never guess who was behind me … Damian. Yes, my deceased brother. Who died with my father. I can’t even empase how terrible it must have felt. And …

I don’t even know why I’m laughing, why it seems so funny to me ! It’s actually kind of depressing, that everyone I had loved had died. That I am so unlucky. It almost sounds like a tragedy. 

But, well, at least, you still here, by my side. Maybe it was meant to end with just us two. Maybe you will be enough to replace all my loved one.

I love you so.”

Tim was whispering his thoughts kindly to his coffee pot, while it prepared him the umpteenth cup of coffee got this morning. He was nursing against him an empty mug.

This morning, while busying himself, he had fallen on a nest of the other. It was mainly built of blankets, foods wraps … And thousands and thousands of pictures of him.

And creepier, the blankets were still warm. The other had just left his nest. But Tim was well aware it implied other’s existence and his apartment was big and messy, so many potential place to hide yourself and never be found in this bazaar.

So, yeah, they had made nest everywhere, on Tim’s own space. And this thought made him wring his hands, twisting them painfully with worry marked all over his face, terror and stress in his eyes.

He poured himself another cup of coffee.

**********************

“ I heard howls all night long. I am sure they hooted until dawn. I could almost swear I even heard their wings flapping inside my own bedroom. But I am a rational man. I know it’s impossible. I mean … No howl could get inside my house - that wouldn’t made sense . And never, never they could survive in a big city like here. Oh Gods how I can be so exhausted. I truly wanted to sleep yesterday, I swear ! But it was just like if the other wanted me awake. At least, it’s what seem the more logical to me… That they want to stop me of resting so I get even more careless and repeat my mistake error back in the bathroom. They want me to let my guard down once again so they could get closer.

But it won’t happen, I am too well organised for it. I have a very strict program to give me some release. First, I go to the office where I gave myself a short nap of 20 minutes. And another one before lunch and after. Last one is just before I get back here. 

But, no need to be worried, I only allow it because I know fairly well they couldn’t dare to do something there, with so many witnesses around. I took those measures after my fourth sleepless night in a row, knowing I can’t skip sleep forever. 

On the other hand, I believe the other is getting reckless, and isn’t as careful anymore. For example, my secretary found one of their hiding spots behind a couch, in a recess of the wall. She notified it to me immediately, worried at the idea of someone living there, under our noses. And I believe I never got so relieved : unwittingly, she just confirmed that this whole situation was real, not my mind playing tricks on me. Confirmed because I obviously doubted myself on this, like if all of it was just a simple delirium from my sick mind. Except that visibly, the other is real, there is truly someone who has been observing me all this time.”

Tim’s lips pulled into a tiny smile, facing the window, a book on his laps. The lights of the city against the night sky calming him, proof of life following his course, even while his own was falling apart. Just like it did when all his friends died in a car accident, Tim losing his childhood friends, his best friends and boyfriend all at once, feeling like his life stopped with them. But it didn’t and kept his own flow, rhythm, still running by, along with time. Just like it did when another car accident took, this time, his family , brother,sister and father, leaving Tim with no reason to live. But he did, because life doesn’t stop for someone’s end. And Tim’s life still kept running without his consent or concern, even with all this pain and sorrow. He shut his eyes tightly, savoring both the burning tears and the dim light. 

He thought he heard a movement, like the flapping of wings, a flow of air coming across his face. He opened his eyes abruptly and, in the same moment, with a swift movement, swung at the bird’s head with his book.

The beast emitted a distressed sound, and flopped a little down, his flight shaky. It disappeared in the corridor, and Tim heard a dull sound, notifying him of his fall. He then rushed there, in the darkness of the corridor, despite his head feeling light and nausea filled him after this too quick movement. He lit up the hall and discovered the bird. The poor beast had broken his skull on a door, misoriented by Tim’s strick.

The man grabbed it by his hook and studied it for a long time, oscillating between terror and dismay … Tim had just killed an owl.

*************************

“ Someone slept in my bed this night. I know it because when I was changing, I noticed my sheet were undone… Also, I could still see the shape of their body they left. And it was still warm.

I know it might sound dumb, but I think… I believe they might have been… I don’t know, less active ? I’m not sure but I feel like recently their presence seemed less and less strong, as if they weren’t there anymore.

At least, the night, I don’t hear them anymore. I don’t see them. I just don’t feel them. Of course, during the day, the situation is worse. They follow me everywhere, it’s usual, but now they are harassing me, calling me at my office, or even sometimes on my phones, both work and personal. Most of the time, they doesn’t talk, just stay on line, breathing heavily. Except on a few occasions were they talked, whispering me all the things they wanted to do to me, horrors and nightmares, explaining the reason of their obsessions. How much they desire to touch me, to smell me, taste me.

Sometimes, I’m the one doing the talking. I beg, I yell and scream, throwing tantrum, or I cry, always asking for the same thing : to stop, whatever this is. I even cursed them once.

And, two days ago, I stopped mid-sentences, having lost my train of thought. A silence had planned on the line, for a few long seconds … Before they whispered “ talk to me”. I hang up. I hang up terrified, sure of having done another fatal error. Never had we tried to discuss together and I was fine with this “way”. It was one listening and the other talking. It was an unspoken rule and they broke it. Since, I make sure to have my secretary answer the phone first.

While I am at this, she seems more and more worried. She won’t stop telling me how I should take better care of myself, especially with my past. The worst is that I don’t even have any idea of what ‘past’ she is referring to… I mean, sure, I had some rough times, lost many, many beloved people… But how is that related to taking care of myself ? 

Anyways, back again about the other, they seems less and less worried of being caught. For example, only this weeks, they came to my office three times. Three times of them announcing themselves as my brother. Them waiting for me in the entrance. Three times of me yelling at my secretary I wouldn’t get out of my office. That my poor brother was dead ! Dead. Dead … And each time I had a mental breakdown right after it. I can’t continue like this anymore. I am too tired, too exhausted, so done.”

Tim kept cutting in rhythm his vegetables, eyes hypnotised by the blade. He was so lost, in his thoughts, in his life, in this life. The bags under his eyes were a darkish shade of purple, like bruises, proof of too many sleepless nights. Tics were movings his eyelids, as well as his mouth,  in random moments.

Tim had always been pale, but at this point, it would have been more correct to say his skin was transparent. Only his eyes stayed the same than before this downfall. They stayed clear, with no redness or blood injected troubling the pure white surrounding a soft sky blue iris and then darkness in there center. 

He finally was done with his vegetables, throwing them in a pan and got back to sitting on the bar, observing his apartment. Most of it was surrounded by the darkness but he was okay with that. There wasn’t a sound. Not even one, as if the other was gone. But Tim knew better : they were somewhere near, scrutinizing him and every movement he dared do. 

His head wouldn’t stop nodding up and down, he was scared and exhausted. Exhausted of living with this terror and stress. Terrified of letting himself relax. Exhausted of having the pictures of his deceased friends always imposed into his memory. 

Tim didn’t want to think of them. It was easier to act as if nothing happened. And truly, in some of his memory it was just like it. After all, he didn’t remember the funeral for any of them, as if just never happend or Tim just wasn’t there. Same for his family.

Tim sighed once more and stretched toward the coffee pot. He wasn’t ready to sleep.

****************************

“ I am scared you know. I mean, I don’t know what to do, how to get out of this situation.

Every body, well, the few people that I see regularly, kept saying how I look so sick, so broken, and I should be more careful because of my accident. I’m not even sure to know what ‘accident’ they are referring too. Also, my secretary kept complaining I drink too much coffee for my own good and how angry would be my doctor, who doesn’t like me taking stimulants, because it stress my organs too much. And there too I don’t get the reference, like if it was some inside joke they all share… Whatever.

All that I know is that she seems more and more weirder these days, suspicious. Like she was stressed, anxious , like if she had some kind of secret concerning me. Or maybe like she had remorse… But I don’t see what she could hide from me.

Except if she was … pairing up with the other? That would be as surprising than horrifying. But I don’t think it’s the case. She just must be worried about her own life, or maybe about me. She is just such a nice girl, she can’t be that bad.

Anyways, I’m happy that I talked to you… You’re always here, such a good listener, I love you so much Cassandra.”

Tim fell silent and listened. Listened to the waiting tone dialling over and over, in the void. The only sound was his breath reverberating through the phone, coming back distorted to his ears. His sister didn’t pick up.

It wasn’t so surprising, he already knew it. After all, she simply couldn’t, being dead for almost 4 years already. Nevermore will she answer and talk with him, calming him, recomforting him… No, nevermore.

Tim put his head in his arms,  face turned toward the bay window. It was late, but the young man hadn’t found enough courage to come home. He might just stay right here until the next morning. The light of the city downward were the only source of luminosity, so small with Tim was so high up here. He liked this idea, that he wasn’t with them, detached of this world he didn’t wanted to belong to. All this activity will he was up there slowly falling asleep, the light lulling him. 

He needed to be detached, away from anyone. He already lost everything, so it could be so easy to die now. That’s why he wanted nobody around him, not wanting anymore string to this world, to get hurt or hurt. And only when he will be fully alone, only then, Tim wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.

The dim light kept him in this state, half asleep, and then, slightly out, fully asleep. The exhaustion and lack of sleep had reason of him.

And, while Tim’s eyes moved erratically under his eyelid, only then, he dared to enter his office. He took cautious step toward the sleeping man and kneeled next to the desk. His gaze fixed on Tim’s inky hair hiding his face away. The man took off the coffee mug sitting next to Tim, throwing it away in the toilet, cleaning it roughly. Then he got back to his previous spot, kneeling next to his protégé. 

He stayed right here, crouched against the desk, caressing Tim’s hair softly, lovingly. The younger man seemed to relax against the touch, falling deeper into sleep. They stayed in this positions for hours, until the first light of dawn appeared. It seemed to motivate him to get up, going to the bathroom to put fresh water in the mug. He then placed it next to a deeply asleep Tim. The young man had finally got his deserved full night of sleep, but his worried and exhausted expression was still present on his features. 

The stranger, the intruder, sighed softly and bent down, kissing kindly Tim’s forehead. And,with his hand still on the younger’s one, he scribbled a little note for him. He then kissed him a last time. And left.

He rushed through the stairs to go meet her, waiting at the escape for her. She arrived late, but she always did. They only briefly spoke, him hurrying her, but still thanking her warmly. He had needed to see Tim. Needed. She proposed that they go for a breakfast, or maybe to meet again for lunch. He declined, but told her how thankful he was. After all, she let him get into the building and covered him. He left quickly, and she got upstairs.

It was her job to be here early, her boss was always one of the first one in the office. She snuck a glance into his office, saw that he was still fully asleep and got back to her desk. Two hours later, she heard a scream, an ugly one, full of panic and fear. It was coming from her boss office, proof he finally awoke. It was quickly followed by the sound of glass shattering, a mug crashing down, swatted to the ground. She sighed. Tim was awake. 

He indeed was up, acting as if the devil was on his heels, tripping on his own feet. He looked terrified, a little bit crazy and so pitiful, with his big blue eyes full of suppressed tears. It saddened her, knowing she was a little guilty of his state.

Tim left sobbing, without a word, shaking.

His secretary looked at him go, worried of feeling no guilt. Ô the things she was able to do for handsome face…

*****************************

“ You were there. You took advantage of my state, of my weakness. Of me falling asleep. You took advantage of it to come once again torment me, haunt me. To touch me… To violate my space, my life. 

I don’t know what you want of me, from me. But I do know you are a monster, a psychopath. A maniac ! You follow me, watch me. You ruin my life. I just want to end it, end everything, end it all. I need to find a way to stop all of it, no matter the consequences. 

And what about this note ! Why would you even left me one ? “ Even if you don’t want to see me, I will always be by your side”. Bullshit ! What does you even wanted by that ? 

It’s terrible. I feel like I am losing myself, reality beginning to mix with nightmares and visions. I’m going crazy. I’m drowning, I can’t breath, live… I’m drowning in fear, panic, lack of sleep, irrationality.

It’s been fifteen days that I hadn’t been back to my office. Not since you … That you… Since…

Fuck ! STOP IT ! RIGHT NOW ! I can’t , I can’t do it anymore. I wanna die ! I’m done with all of this, the people, the worlds, them, you … with myself too. I just cry all day … And that’s it. I do nothing, I can’t anymore. I’m stuck here, and sick of it. I don’t even dare to get out, I’m so scared to see you. To see the dead. To see all of these who will disappear, and those who already had. I’m so sick of not being able to distinguish between lie and reality. I can’t go out anymore.

I’m stuck. I’m stuck in this place and in my head. I’m stuck. With me. With me and you. You.. I… You must leave. You have to stop. I can’t keep doing this for much longer. I have already lost my mind and sanity. Aren’t you satisfied ? When will you stop tormenting me ! To force me to remember. Ignorance is such bliss….”

Tim ended whispering, adrenaline and anger disappearing until all that was left was his loneliness, abandoned. 

He blinked quickly, trying to stop the tears from flowing, even if they already were sliding down his cheeks. And Tim was left alone to weep. Soundlessly. In the dark. Laying on his back, in his bed. Arms hugging himself. He cried.

On his arms, spot color of the sky range. The young man didn’t even remember hurting himself, but those bruises weren’t real for him. They didn’t mattered. He was lost, a lost cause, forsaken. Day and night were becoming one, an indistinct temporal mass. Sometimes he’d find himself in room without any memory of going there, or why. He caught himself multiple time doing round of the rooms, knocking against flat surface, looking under furniture … Searching for someone - or something - hidden away reflex as archaic than childish.

And everytime Tim caught himself doing this, he froze, aware of having close to no control of his own actions. And each time the hours had gone from 2 to 10, without him remembering, losing track of it, it worried him even more. One day, he even found himself covered in spiderwebs and dust, without knowing how or where he got himself this dirty. 

He was unstable, incapable of reconstruct his days. But he still knew the howls were watching him with their fluorescents eyes. He knew he couldn’t go in the bathroom, fearing to catch the reflection of the other in the mirror, behind him. He knew he shouldn’t get to close of the bay glass, the dead waiting for him on the balcony.

So Tim cried even more, almost hoping the other would talk, or even breath, right against him. But there wasn’t any noises. No  movement. No reaction. The other was gone.

Tim’s felt his throat tighten. Abandon. Once again. Poor Timmy, dumb little Timmy would be left alone. He curled on himself and waited, awake, for the morning to happen.

The other breath reappeared close to 6am.

******************************

“ I couldn’t find my way back. Well, not surprising, I didn’t come here that much, sorry. The gardener helped me, he even told me how to get to my family’s tomb next.

I don’t know why I am here. There isn’t really any valid reason for it, I just felt the need to… It never happened before. 

I… Well.. You… Oh gods, I’m blushing now, all of this is absolutely ridiculous. I’m absolutely mortified of never coming to see you by my own will. Of trying to erase you from my life, to forget you for real. You are a whole part of my life. My childhood, my teenage year and the beginning of my adult life.

There is someone, something, who want me to remember you, or at least to think of the dead. For it, they keep me from sleeping, follow me and call for me in the street. Try to usurp the identity of someone they can’t be. Call me to talk about you. Force me to remember.

And the only positive aspect of this whole situation is me finally reconciling myself with my past, and with you all, guys.

I must go, I still have to see my family. I just wanted to say sorry and remember you - and myself - of how much I love you all.

Goodbye.”

Tim felt his voice shaking, tears running down his face, while he disposed flowers in front of the memorial, dedicated to all his friends. To his childhood friends. To his best friend. To his boyfriend. To the dead and the ghost of his childhood.

He stroked the plaque with their name and walked away. He had quite a hard time finding his family’s graves, but maybe he needed this time to prepare himself for it. Because it was going to be ugly and he knew it very well. 

He indeed broke down in tears when he finally got in front of them, ugly sobbing for quite a long time, until it calmed a little. Tim never felt that pathetic, that pitiful, fragile. Then, word began to fall from his mouth, rain of apologies, remorse and regrets, flooding in an impetus flow. Tim didn’t bothered to stop it. And, when he was done, he felt a feeling of relief flood through his mind. He finally talked to the dead.

Tim began to lay a flower for each of them. 

“To Bruce, beloved father and friend. He protected and loved the out cast”. A bouquet of lys.

“To Cassandra, beloved sister and daughter. She lived without regrets or remorse.”. A Camelia’s bouquet.

“To Tim. Son and bother. Other died so he lived”.

He froze. It was wrong. On the third tomb should had been Damian’s name. Not Tim’s. NOT HIS !

In full panic, he threw himself on his knees, finger deciphering the words. It indeed wasn’t his name. Neither it was Damian’s. It was someone else’s, a stranger stele.

Tim straightened and finally saw him. His dead father. He seemed younger. He seemed alive. He seemed surprised of seeing him. And while Bruce took a step toward him, hands stretching to grasp Tim, this one ran.

He didn’t slow down for the two hours ride it took to get back to his apartment, focused on the road. It’s only when his door locked behind him that he collapsed, hands clasped around his heads, screaming behind the closed door.

*****************

“ I shouldn’t have come back. It’s dumb, I didn’t even wanted to. But, well, turns out I am here. And likely you didn’t expected me. You thought I would disappear, or worse, be cast out. You thought I would just be abandoned … And that you would win, and that without me being even aware of us playing against each other.

But, sweetie, you are way too stupid to beat me. I always had been greatest at this kind of game, I’m not a quitter and I have stamina… You are so dumb you didn’t even noticed you were only a mere pawn… Brainless secretary.

Although, I hadn’t been this efficient either. After all, I was dumb enough to trust you and never doubt you… That was as stupid as your action. Anyway, it won’t change the fact they lost. They aren’t aware of it right now, but they have lost. No matter what they are to you. No matter what I might be for them. No matter what they think they are to me. I’m going to end this sick game. And I will make sure you will suffer the consequences. Or just suffer. I will make sure you won’t be able of closing your eyes without doubting of being able to open them once again. I wish, almost wish, you will die, so I won’t have to see your face ever again. But, Jessica, I won’t do it… After all, you are my secretary …

I will be the first suspect of your murder. But I still need you to suffer. To suffer as much I did those 4 last months. I want you to fall on this hellscape like I just did.

But don’t worry, I will catch this son of a bitch and make him regret his fucking fixation. I’m not an object, I’m not breakable. I’m not malleable. And I’m not fucking rational ! NOT ANYMORE !

So now, you will be a good girl and tell me who employed you. Who you helped to play me this ‘trick’. Tell me so I can end it for real with them. SO … WHO. IS. IT. WHO ?”

Jessica began to cry once again in front of Tim. She was unable to articulate two coherent words and it only pissed off the man more. He threw suddenly his coffee mug through the room, sending it to shatter on the opposite wall,  missing Jessica. She curled on herself, yelling even more.

Tim massaged his head, feeling a headache coming. She should shut up soon or he will lose the poor self control he maintain. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. No, Tim won’t hit here. No, he won’t lose control. No, he didn’t tried to aim the mug at her. You must understand Jessica, the poor man is exhausted, so stressed. He just lost a little his calm but he is better now. He just needed to know who left the note signed by his brother. And after, he could rest. After he would be better, calmer, and will finally stop yelling at her. Maybe he wouldn’t even take her to the justice… He just needed a name Jessica, just a name.

But the secretary wouldn’t talk, keeping her mouth sealed, mute if excepted the sob. So Tim sighed. He couldn’t do it, he didn’t know what to do. Maybe he wasn’t awake enough to think straight… Maybe he needed a nap… Or a coffee, yeah, that sounded about right ! After he could handle in a better way this whole situation !

He stopped only when he registered Jessica giggles, horribly distorted and ugly in her rattle voice. She never had a pretty laugh, more a travesty of one, something sounding like a cackling. No, Jessica never had a nice laugh and this one wasn’t an exception. Tim realized she wasn’t even trying to hide the truth now, because she believed she had the upperhand in this. That she was smarter, than him, than them. 

She explained everything, proudly, sure of having outsmarted both of them, tears turning into a smug grin. Yes, she helped them to find Tim. Yes, thanks to her, they got Tim’s address. Yes, she was also the one who helped them to sneak in the office. Yes, yes , yes she was the one who made it all. All of this… And who could blame her ? It wasn’t her fault, oh no no no. It was Tim’s fault. He caused this whole situation all by himself. After all, it was him who drank too much coffee for his own good… Or refused to go see a doctor … Who denied the simple existence of his accidents and their sequelae. It was Tim who had stopped to even try to sleep, live and eat !

And, indeed, she started to do all of this for him. She really wanted to help you, Timmy, you know ? To help you get out of this whole paranoia spiral thing, this psychosis he had. So she called them, revealing him where Tim’s place were.

And, at one point, quite quickly actually, it wasn’t about Tim anymore, but about herself. The other was gorgeous. They were desperate. They were heart broken,weakened by Tim’s rejection. So, yeah, at one point it wasn’t for Tim at all, she switched camps, she was there to help the other. They needed affection so badly, craved it, and Jessica was the solution. Her objective had become to have him for herself, maybe even get rid of Tim, never mind of him. She wanted them in her bed, in her arms.

Today, she reached her goal, almost there. The other would give up soon. And for Tim, given his state, it was only a matter of time before he mess up, make an - another - error, which would either get him to a psychiatrist hospital, or to the tomb.

Jessica almost have her date, almost, she was so close to it. The other promised her a dinner for after he got a chance to talk to Tim. Both of them were so close to their goal.

And that, Tim just realized it. She had almost reached it, at least it’s what the other made her believe. They had baited her with a promise of a pseudo relationship, in exchange for him. His stupid secretary had sold him for a one night hook up. Apparently he wasn’t worth much more.

To be fair, she was just plainly lying to herself, at what point sending a stalker after Tim was for his so called “ well being” ? Did she truly believe they would heal him of his paranoia by spying on him !

She was crazy. Jessica had lost her goddamn mind… She had sent him a stalker … A STALKER ! And she HELPED them !

So Tim did what he did best : he panicked. Once again. She betrayed him, she knew everything about him and she sold him… And what would have happened if Tim hadn’t confrontate her ? Jessica would have let the other go to the end of his fantasy, even if it mean mean Tim’s death ?

Then, Jessica made another error. One of too many. She announced point blank to Tim how she invited the other to catch up with them here. In Tim’s own office, with the whole building being empty… But she reassured him, no need to worry, they just wanted to talk, and once it will be done, she will finally have her date with them. And no, Tim hadn’t a word to say about them coming here, it was already engaged, too late to back up. He was just so lucky to have such a handsome brother.

It finally clicked on Tim’s overwhelmed mind. Of course ! She had believed them ! She fell into their trap like the idiot she has always had been… Jessica believed they were related to Tim, but it couldn’t be possible in anyways. Because Damian and Cass, his only siblings were dead.

He got up quickly, realizing they were going to show up soon. Tim needed to get out of here or he’d be a dead man when they arrived. Jessica reacted quickly, displeasure at Tim’s attempts to ruin her chances of that date clear on her face. Given Tim’s manic and sleep deprived state, it wasn’t hard, catching him by the collar and pulling him back before he could make it to the door.

It might be because she was way taller than Tim, or because the young man was in such a bad state that Jessica believed she could overpower him. She just ignored how much caffeine was currently pumping through Tim’s vein, how much adrenalin fear could release in a body, how much strength this broken Tim had. 

Jessica just had time to pull on his arms that he punched her in the stomach, before knocking her down. His head was full of noise, of fear, he didn’t have time for this, he didn’t have enough time, he couldn’t … He hasn’t… She shouldn’t … She grabbed his legs; pulling hard and he lost it again. He lost his train of thought. He lost control. Tim tried to free his legs, he had to go and when he saw it wasn’t working, he just grabbed a chair next to him and began to hit her repeatedly. He hit her, over and over, until she curled on herself, letting go of his pants. 

Jessica was fine, she was fine, it was mostly bruises, maybe a broken ribs, Tim repeated himself while he hurtled down the stairs. After all she deserved it, she was going to be fine, just fine, he didn’t have enough strength to hurt her too badly. He kept saying it over and over, while sprinting through the darks alleys, alone, odd mirage in the night. He kept himself to think how close he had been to be caught by them until he locked the door behind him.

Less than five minutes after his escape, a silhouette would lean over Jessica, before calling 911.

********************

“ I know you don’t wish to see me or hear from me. But I need to tell you something. You don’t have to answer, or even to believe me… Please, just listen for once. And I want you to know I respected your privacy until now, I never came here because I never thought you needed help that much. But right now you didn’t leave me any choice. I hoped, truly, you would get better without me having to step in the picture, but turns out I had been wrong, the events of this afternoon talk for themselves I think.

This time, I’m not here to tell you how much I miss you, neither of how much I need you in my life, by my side. No, I’m here to help you get a grip on yourself. You can’t keep acting like you do, you are putting yourself in danger. You make yourself sick.

No, please, I hear you moving, don’t go… I’m begging you, just listen to me until the end. And when I’ll be done, you can call the cops on me if you want…

Let’s just go back to the beginning… Six years ago, you and all your friends, your childhood friends, planned a trip to celebrate the end of your classes. And, at the last moment, you call in sick and stayed home, confined to bed. 

The bus they had rented might have been a problem, or maybe something else happened … But what we knew, is that they had an accident. And nobody survived. This day, you lost your boyfriend, your best friend, and all your other friends, all at once. It pushed you into depression, which lasted over more than a year…

And two years after, you were doing better, so much better. We thought you had finally accepted it…

Then, Bruce and Cassandra - your dad and sister - had decided to go to the Opera. You had gone all three of you, your whole family minus Damian, your brother. You had an accident, another accident in your life. It was such a stupid one, a drunk driver who collided with your car. The driver died under the shock of the impact, so did Cassandra. Bruce was declared deceased during the hospital ride. You, fell into a deep coma.

Your family got buried when you were still unconscious, you stayed in this state for at least three months.

And, when you finally woke up, you were alone. All alone. They were dead. Your friends. Your family. Dead… Only you were left… And your brother Damian.

So, you can guess what had been my surprise when Jessica contacted me, making me discover an … Interesting fact. Damian was dead. Well, it’s what you had said to everyone you knew. It’s what you convince yourself of. That Damian had a car accident, with your family, and that he died in his coma.

It’s false. And I believe you aren’t even aware of being wrong. Damian is alive. Your brother is alive.

And, even if unconsciously, you prefer to believe he died, so you could detach yourself definitively of everything you loved, I know it wasn’t deliberate.

I can accept you not wanting to believe I am Damian. After all, I had already accepted to stop contacting you like you begged me last time. But, your current health worried me too much to kept myself from staying away from you. So please, I’m begging you, Tim, open up…”

The other voice was hesitant, pleading. Tim was still curled in a nook of the wall. In a cache. His cache.

On the floor, surrounding him, lied dozen of papers. Birth certificate. Death certificate. Press articles. Hospitals bills. And, in the center, nothing, if it is the lack of one death certificate. Damian’s one.

Tim had indeed come to this conclusion. Damian was alive. Damian hadn’t abandon him. So why ? Why was he dead in his mind ?

And, if the other, this person who had been in his office, who tried to contact him… Was really Damian ? Then, did that mean, that this “other” was never in his apartment ? That all along, it had been … him ? Tim ...

It would explain why Tim found himself so many times in the hidden places, without knowing how he found them. Would it be why he never could prove he wasn’t alone… Why he lost the course of the time … Could he be the other ?

Tim curled even more on himself, and sobbed. The other on the other side of the door began to pound on it, imploring Tim to open it, to let them console him.

Tim was slowly being aware of losing touch. But he didn’t wanted  to, no, he couldn’t lose control once again and being what he feared for so many months. He had to pull himself together. Right now. He began to bang his head against the wall, the pain keeping him aware.

He got up, slowly and began to walk to the kitchen, shaking like a leaf. He had two choices … To pour himself another cup of coffee… Or to go open to the man who identified as his brother. The one who begged him to open.

And … Suddenly. Black.

Tim regain consciousness of the reality shortly after. The pain was trashing up his brain. He still registered the bloody knife and his forearms open and dripping of scarlet.

Tim yelled, screamed, in full panic mode and run straight to the door. His hands were slippery, but he still succeed to open the door. He then came to a stop, astonished by the vision, right in front of him. His surprise was mirrored by a younger Bruce, with a desperate look in his eyes. 

The man then took him in his arms, pulling him close. Tim tried to breath, to stay awake and recognised the smell of the man : Damian. Damian.

“ Oh please, please, Dami… Don’t left me alone. I don’t wanna die ! I don’t want it anymore !”

And, with Tim weeping in his arms, Damian called 911, for the second time in a few hours. He then kept his brother right against him, whispering sweet words and praise. About how much he loved him. About how much he missed him. How he would never again left him alone.

Damian was crying too. His brother was sick. His brother had cut his veins open. His brother was dying once again.

Tim lost consciousness little time before the ambulance arrived.

****************************

While Tim lying unconscious in Damian’s arms, who kept talking to his brother, the dark figure changed of hiding spot, trying to get a little closer to Tim and his brother.

They heard Damian trying to explain to his brother about Jessica and how she would be alright, with no long term complication and with no complaints. That he made sure she wouldn’t approach them anymore. After all, she was crazier than Tim was.

And the third man keep waiting, in the shadow, boiling rage pooling in his stomach. He should be the one touching Tim, he was his protégé… HIS Tim. But he waited, he was patient enough for it. He knew that one way or another, Tim would be his… Soon enough.

So he watched silently Tim go with the paramedics, and with a terrified Damian. And when everybody was gone, when he was sure of it, he got out of his hiding spot.

He stretched, slowly, cat like and find his way to the kitchen. He casually grabbed the knife, and cleaned it, as well as every blood spot. 

Tim had almost caught him, the young man knew he was there. He was aware of Tim being intelligent, but had underestimated him. He sighed of satisfaction : he was truly captivating. Even if Ra's has been stalking him for quite a long time, he never got tired of it. 

How could he got bored of watching the man sink into worse and worse desilusion. His pretty Tim had first developed an addiction to coffee, then a sudden partial amnesia, quite selective actually, and a compulsive need to stay awake. And the big final one : a second personality !

Ra's guessed it was the lack of sleep who created this split : after all, everytime Tim loose control, letting another facet out, he persisted to take pillows and blankets to make nest, like if his only goals was to get ready for sleep.

Ra's smiled, deep in his thoughts, smelling Tim’s clothes, smelling him. Yes, Ra's was quite pleased of the turning of the events. Tim’s other facet would cover him. Nobody would believe someone, a stranger, had lived hidden in the apartment … 

At worst, they would believe Damian’s presence had triggered Tim to believe so. If only Damian hasn’t came here, had let Tim sink just a little bit more, Ra's would finally had the boy for himself. To take him away with him, somewhere nobody could find Tim. 

Sadly, he would have to wait. Damian was the brother, he had more right to have Tim. Ra's was just a stalker, a nobody. 

They were two to lust after Tim … And Damian had currently won him… But it’s alright, Ra’s is patient.

“ I knew I would find you here Ra's. We need to talk.”

Damian deep voice rumbled in his back. Ra's sighed.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 240: PLIFF

Previously on BnHA: Shigaraki “Thanos” Tomura gleefully reduced an entire city to dust while laughing maniacally. You know, villain things. He almost turned Re-Destro to dust as well, but Re-Destro got around that by chopping off his own legs. Like it was no big. I still haven’t quite managed to process that yet. Anyway, so everyone was real impressed by Tomura at this point, because how could you not be, and to sum things up, Re-Destro basically accepted him as his lord and savior and handed the Meta Liberation Army over to him. So now Shigaraki Tomura, noted crazy person and heir to All for One’s empire, who has just upgraded his quirk so as to be able to destroy basically anything within an unknown range without even having to touch the thing directly, and who has also pledged to destroy the entire world, has an army. And he also has Gigantomachia, who was watching him all hearts-in-eyes while he did his thing. So all in all this has been a very productive arc for the League of Villains. And meanwhile, the League of Everyone Else may want to think about changing their name to “League of People About To Be Incredibly Fucking Screwed.”

Today on BnHA: The League of Villains, in what is clearly the best rebranding move since New Coke, renames itself the “Paranormal Liberation Front”, a.k.a. PLF, a.k.a. PLIFF because that’s what it instantly became in my head and you can’t stop me. Among PLIFF’s Finest is newly initiated member Hawks, whose mystery bag is finally confirmed to have contained exactly what we all thought it was going to contain. I don’t even want to talk about that. I’m still in denial. But also weirdly thrilled. I’m terrible. Anyway, so Hawks is all “:) we’re fucked,” agreeing with the consensus the general fandom has come to over the past week, and palling around with his new best friend Dabi as he frantically tries to come up with some kind of plan. Maybe the heroes can try rebranding themselves as “the Supernatural Emancipation Cavalry.” That wouldn’t really solve anything, but it’d be funny to watch the villains come to realize they’re being mocked. Sorry but y’all brought this on yourselves.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)  

so I received an ask from a very kind anon warning me to be careful of spoilers for this chapter. thank you, anon! rest assured that I have been very cautious, and am pleased to inform everyone that I’m diving in spoiler-free this week. so bring on your Kacchan hero names, your Best Jeanist heads, your new Deku quirks, and whatever other twists you want to toss my way, manga. but especially that first one. this arc has been fantastic, but now that it’s wrapping up, I miss my kids and I would like to check in with them soon. they grow up so fast and time is precious

so apparently the title for this chapter is “Power”, which could mean lots of things, but I imagine it’s not something that bodes well for our heroes. honestly does anything bode well for them at this point. they’re not having much luck on the boding front

oh cool, a time jump! so this is apparently now one week after “the deadly battle.” wow, way to sum everything up in the blandest terms possible while still being accurate. like, yeah, that is what it was, but somehow it doesn’t quite communicate the full magnitude of what actually went down, you know?

anyway so the town basically looks like it got hit by a fucking meteor

new crack theory that a time-traveling Shigaraki Tomura is what actually killed the dinosaurs

wow would you fucking look at this

I guess this is the BnHA version of “an unfortunate training exercise”

also I like how they didn’t think it would be believable that one sleepy boi could cause all of this destruction, so they amped it up to twenty fucking guys instead. sob. why did they even bother giving Tomura an army. he is an army

lol the bullshit continues

“reporting to you live from Deika City, an innocent and wholesome country town in no way affiliated with an extreme right-wing quirk supremacist movement, where citizens recently found themselves victims of an entirely unprovoked attack by no fewer than twenty, and definitely more than six, villains. the brave citizens proceeded to fight them off, and definitely killed them all and didn’t surrender to them and elect their leader as their new god. also the president of Detnerat just happened to be there. just coincidentally. he definitely was not the one who instigated the entire thing. when asked for comment, Mr. Yotsubashi responded, quote, ‘nonsense, I’m no hero. would you call a man a hero just because he fought off an army of villains alone and selflessly sacrificed his own legs to ensure that justice prevailed? would you call that heroic? poppycosh. that’s just the kind of man I am. I wouldn’t call myself brave. ‘humble,’ maybe. ‘handsome’, perhaps. but a hero? no. I’m just an everyday, all-around good type of person, that’s all.’ so there you have it. truly a courageous figure. a gallant example of truly stellar fortitude and virtue. we need more Yotsubashi Rikiyas in these trying times. back to you, Jeff”

anyway, so the media in BnHA. fairly gullible, huh?

so now the report is concluding with a statement that the investigation is still ongoing. uh huh. damn they really got away scot-free with all this, huh

and we’re cutting to a close-up of sushi! oh my god. Compress have your dreams finally come true at last

yesssss oh my god. I’m so happy for him

(ETA: on my second read-through I paid attention to try to see whether or not Compress had finally gotten a new robot arm, but it’s impossible to tell. he’s only using his right hand here, and later on when he goes on stage with the rest of them he’s wearing his usual trenchcoat and gloves. I’m just gonna assume he finally got the upgrade he wanted, though. nice to see you so content, Mister I-Ran-Around-A-Lot.)

excuse me, what, Dabi? he didn’t even do anything?? as opposed to you, who basically just set yourself on fire and glared at Frogurt for half a dozen chapters?? don’t hurt yourself climbing back down from that high horse you punk

lol what

I don’t even have to scroll down to the rest of this page to immediately know this is some bullshit. she’s not dead. out of everyone in the League she’s probably third most important after Tomura and Mr. You-Didn’t-Even-Do-Anything above. her quirk is too plot-critical for her to actually be dead. you’re not gonna kill off the ONLY GIRL IN THE LEAGUE OF VILLAINS, either. Horikoshi who do you even think you’re fooling

ah, yep

Togaaaaaaaaa omg. I’d hug you but you’d stab me. but I’m so happy to see you my precious baby girl

and it actually makes sense for Twice to be mourning the clone, though, and I’m glad they showed it. because he of all people understands that the clone is the person to at least some degree. like, it’s nice that he doesn’t just view them as disposable and he respects them. he’s so nice omfg

anyway so it looks like he’s back to being crazy though

oh well, it was nice while it lasted. at least he doesn’t appear traumatized anymore. and he has a boyfriend now too. where is Giran anyway

now fucking Skeptic is walking in like he’s on the set of a fucking sitcom

[canned audience laughter]

nice touch on the following page with Hanabata starting to refer to Re-Destro as “The Supreme...” before catching himself and amending it to just “Re-Destro”

oh wow

damn, LoV, y’all went from poverty straight to the .01%. talk about an upgrade

oh my god there’s a secret passage

oh my god it leads to a secret basement

trying not to think about the last time we were in a secret villain basement. this isn’t like that. relax. that arc is over now. deep breaths

holy shit

this is like the fucking Mines of Moria. complete with a Balrog. jesus christ

omg look who got himself a BRAND NEW SUIT AND TIE ENSEMBLE oh shiiit

is that a fucking fur-lined coat. Shigaraki Tomura has officially upgraded to KHR Villain status. what a little shit. I adore you, you son of a bitch

and I thought he destroyed all the hands?? come on dude, I know it’s like your signature look, but I was hoping we were going in a different direction from here on out. ah well

wow, Horikoshi

just once. just once I would like this man to leave a plothole unaddressed for more than one page. god I love this manga

anyway so they’re fully lampshading the fact that this one hand somehow miraculously survived, and they’re all “I guess it’s his trademark, huh?” yep, that’s right. his lewk. now be quiet, you two. which of us is doing the recap here

so now RD is up on stage showing off the weirdest fucking wheelchair I’ve ever seen, and singing Tomura’s praises

it’s remarkable how quickly his ego adapted to his brand new role as head of Tomura’s PR. he almost seems to be enjoying this more than when he was the leader

oh shit??

A NEW NAME?? oh my god. edge of my seat. can’t wait. take it away boys

LOOOOOOOL what

sob this makes it sound like they do ghost investigations. is there a League of Villains Buzzfeed Unsolved AU. this is what happens when you put the otaku in charge of the name

just. why paranormal. they thought it sounded cool?? and am I really supposed to type out PLF and not pronounce it like “pliff” in my head moving forward?? yeah, that’s not happening. you guys are now PLIFF. congratulations

thank god they’ve still got Tomura to lend legitimacy to this whole ridiculous operation. god, there’s something I never thought I’d say. Tomura why are you now the part of the League -- excuse me, PLIFF -- that I actually take the most seriously. god

y’all heard the man. whatever we want. this is happening. just remember kid, you gave me permission

holy shit you guys is that motherfucking Carvel!?!? I was staring at the panel all “WHO IS THIS” and wondering if they’d somehow brought Kizuki back to life, oh my god. I’m fucking dying send help. he looks like Galaxy Express 999. my brain is short-circuiting

anyway so everyone is all HOORAY WE LOVE THIS and they’re all cheering

HOMBGLKDF

DSLFKSHDLGK HEY BOY, HOW ARE YOU LIKING BEING A MEMBER OF THIS NEW HERE VILLAIN CULT. WHERE’S THE FUCKING BAG, HAWKS

SDFKSJDLFKSDLKFH A FLASHBACK AHHHHHH

I CAN’T TURN THE PAGE OH GOD NO SOMEBODY ELSE DO IT

OH MOTHERFUCKING SHIT

my jaw just. fucking. -- -----------

okay Hawks. fucking explain. how did you do it. is it a fake?? surely it’s not the real deal?? oh god, the memes have now become terribly real. I have no choice but to embrace this with even more stupid jokes and memes as a coping mechanism or I’m gonna lose it

but for real, they didn’t seriously do my boy Jeanist like that. Paramount Optimal Jeanist did not survive a point-blank attack from motherfucking All For One just to get shanked by Hawks so that he could get good with PLIFF, only to be, and I quote, “too late...!”

(ETA: and on readthrough #2, Dabi does indeed bring up the fact that this might not actually be Jeanist’s corpse. “setting aside the issue of whether he is who you say he is...” so even he acknowledges that shenanigans could be afoot.

but he seems convinced it’s a real body at the very least. though did it never occur to you that he could have just picked it up from the morgue, dude? that’s gonna be my go-to theory for now at any rate.)

is now a good time for me to bring up something I’ve been wondering about for a while, which is how Bakugou is going to take this? yes, Bakugou. “okay makeste, I know he’s your favorite and I know you miss him, but what kind of mental cartwheels are you doing in order to make this situation with Hawks and PLIFF somehow relate to Bakugou Katsuki, whom we last saw twenty fucking chapters ago, and who has absolutely nothing to do with this?”

well I’m glad you asked, and you see, it’s because (a) the internship, and (b) because we already know Katsuki blames himself for at least one hero’s downfall as a result of what happened in Kamino, and I could easily see him having a similar response to Best Jeanist’s injury and subsequent disappearance. like, we already know this shit is all over the news. and Bakugou knows Jeanist personally. and so now what with him being missing, I can’t help but wonder if he’ll blame himself again for being the reason Jeanist was there at Kamino, and lost a lung, and so forth

and I realize this tangent is coming sort of out of left field, but seeing as this arc is finally wrapping up, and we can expect to cut back to the U.A. kids again soon, I just figured I’d bring it up now, because we’ll see if I’m right or not shortly

anyway. so let’s get back on topic. best dead Jeanist. oh god

but it seems like it did, at least, finally convince Dabi of Hawks’s sincere villainous intentions. so we have that one minor win, I guess. congratulations Hawks, now you know about the secret villain basement and their new rebranding. was it worth it you bastard

oh shit. actually, maybe it was. because now he understands just how incredibly screwed they are sob

so he doesn’t know for sure about the Noumu yet. so Tomura still has that little ace up his sleeve. fucking great

but him knowing about the Detnerat thing is big, though. so now the heroes know not to trust any of their equipment, or any of their lackeys like fucking Slidin’ Go. that’s something, at least

and you gotta love the whole “equal to, if not greater than” bit, sob. never in my life have I ever seen something so egregiously understated. “Shigaraki might be more powerful than the heroes at this point” yeah, you think!? god

holy shit Re-Destro calm the fuck down

Tomura’s telling him to get lost, and he’s immediately making himself scarce lol. good riddance

and Tomura is now kneeling dramatically and pounding his fist on the floor. okay

hey

I take offense, sir. “League of Villains” had a timeless air about it. and more importantly, you couldn’t abbreviate it to the sound that someone makes when they plop down tiredly onto a couch

oh shit!!!!

THIS LAST PAGE HAD BETTER BE A TERRIFYING PANEL OF THE HIGH END NOUMUS, OMG. I’M HOLDING MY BREATH

GODDAMMIT IT’S JUST ANOTHER SEXY CLOSEUP OF TOMURA’S FACE

I mean, can you actually call it that at this point? can you actually “grant” something to someone if they already have more of it than they know what to do with?

but I mean, we know what he really means though, so fair enough

oh ffs now he’s saying “but first there’s something I’d like you to do for me” oh my god enough with these side quests!

he wants him to transport something, apparently. ARE YOU HATCHING SOME NEW SCHEME oh gosh

oh my god and meanwhile Hotwings is becoming canon right before our eyes holy shit

of course!! he’s fucking thrilled!! everything is just!! so great!! right now!! :)!!!!!

oh my god Hawks

“Endeavor, and everyone” I see what you did there kid

(ETA: and as far as I recall, Endeavor doesn’t even know about his undercover mission yet. I wonder how he’s going to react when he finds out. your adopted son is now best friends with your presumed-dead son! and in mortal danger omg.)

wow. wow. and that’s the end of the chapter. fucking shit

so! lots to process! Hawks really did it! the absolute madman!! and Dabi fucking loves him now, which is great, if you like things that inevitably end in tragedy. then that’s great for you. but otherwise I guess it’s not so great

so I wonder if our next arc will be the Undercover Hawks Antics arc, or if we’ll be getting back to Deku and the gang. I’m guessing the latter because it’s been a while, but it’s definitely exciting to see this particular plotline finally advancing and becoming more intricate

so basically I have no idea what to expect next week. which is amazing. I’m so fucking excited. now if Horikoshi could just leave us all a little pity disclaimer clarifying that no Jeanists were actually harmed in the making of this chapter and that it was all CGI or some shit, that would be great :/

[tcrmommabear]

The Weight of Debts Unpaid

Hi, I’m a terrible fandom mom and best friend, but I’m crawling out of the hell-hole work has buried me in to toss this very late birthday present into the wild, wild world.

So, my lovely @catsafarithewriter, I promised Emara AU, my favorite creation of yours besides the lovely face you maintain (and everything else you’ve written), and by god was I going to give you Emara AU

A few months late.

You can expect your Christmas present on Valentine’s Day XD

Threw in my own theories and slight headcanons, but I’m still excited for when we get the official version of the AU. You know I’ll be screaming and cheering from the stands XD

Let us begin!

He was heavy in her arms.

Not a surprise when his body is half wood and all dead weight. She’s feeling it in her legs as well, the feeling of something viciously sucking at her soul, but really, she’s done this well without legs. Who needs them with arms like these?

He’s still heavy.

The hallways stretch for miles, barely different from one to the next. Swathed in red and carrying the heavy pinging blare of alarms miles ahead of where they started. She doesn’t feel like she’s made any difference running through these halls, finding no relief, no sanctuary, just a million different eyes and guns trained on her limping form.

He’s so god damn heavy.

There’s a door cracked open from fleeing cats who couldn’t be bothered to follow evacuation protocol. She crashes into it and through it, pulling it full shut until the locking mechanism clicked louder than the alarms.

Silence reigned in the small room, the alarms cut off mid dutiful shriek, but the world remained red, flashing through the unnecessary window watching the hallway.

She sets him down as gently as she can spare, sinking a bit more harshly onto her knees before him. He’s still lifeless, torn between two wholes until they couldn’t even form a half. Skin, fur, and wood melted and warred together, fighting for the right to be called “horror”.

In theory, she knew this was what Macavity had planned. Pushing, pulling, twisting, breaking in the name of thoughtless science. Experimenting until every idle curiosity had been fulfilled. Seeing the product of such twisted ideas made her stomach recoil.

His chest rose in sections, eyes startling real glass, and all the rest of him was the exact shade of wrong she wanted to believe the real one was gone, and this was just a fake. She could maybe walk out of here, leaving behind all of this, this world, this fake doll, and go see her real one-.

He is real. He is her real one.

She wasn’t going to abandon him. Not again.

She raised a hand, pressing them against his “scarred” lips, sinking the tips past the teeth and opens his mouth wide. She spares a second for the squeamish and violating feeling, then pulls out the bottle she’d managed to save from the chaos known as Macavity.

She steals a swig of the formula before making his wooden throat choke the rest of it. Her taste gives her enough energy to unlock her legs from their crouch, falling back against the opposite wall. As fast as it came, it tore through her system and flare uselessly out her damaged, mechanical right knee.

For him, it started slow. Chest rising together section by section until it was a whole, left hand shuddering to replace the claws, the right side of his chin shifting between furry and flesh. His chest became more hurried as magic revitalized itself, fireworks beneath his skin until burning out his eyes, green and blue and yellow.

He hacked the formula onto her lap, the blue liquid hitting her legs and sparking up into her chest. She grunted, knee jerking as the black hole was fed, and as quickly as they hit her system, the flared out again, unable to hold much of a charge.

At least the blue left no stain on her clothes. No clean up necessary, mind-numbing sparks guaranteed or your money back. Legs sold separately.

The process of watching him shift, cat, man, wood, was enough of a show she felt an odd motion sickness surge in her gut. Drenched in guilt and expired Creation juice, but she’d really prefer to blame everything on the flashing red lights, cutting streaks across his face like prison bars.

He got his glare back before his words, though she could read “I will eviscerate you” through the context clues. She had told herself a million things as she stalked through the building towards the highest level lab they locked him in.

That she was righting a wrong. That she’d get revenge against the ones who took both sets of legs. That she was helping a friend.

That he wouldn’t be heavy in her arms.

She doesn’t know what to tell herself now. Not when he’s fully back and glaring at her. She never knew the weight of his glare felt like until now.

“Why?” he hisses out, eyes slit in the human face he fluctuates to. His question is followed by a cough, wheeze, and the cat form fully takes over, the human disguise melting away. Less magic being used now that he’s in his more natural state, doing a terribly accurate impression of a badly animated doll. He looks as terrible as she feels, though she’s sure his slightly wrinkled suit would have some words to exchange with her torn and dirty jeans and shirt.

Her heart constricts.

Why indeed.

She's prepared herself for all scenarios. This one scared her the most. She hadn’t the faintest clue for why she did any of this. Maybe because their partnership wasn’t “just a job” anymore? Maybe because of the way he kissed her hand during tea? Maybe because, despite knowing intimately well the soulless depravity, seeing the results up close had been the final straw?

“Why not?” she supplies, going for nonchalant and falling somewhere between robot and blubbering. The answer isn’t an answer, the exact opposite of an answer, a nonanswer that left both of them dissatisfied and hurt.

But was there really any better one to give?

She sold him out. Let him be experimented on and drained of his magic- his very essence, the equivalent of a soul and blood pumping through your veins- until he was catatonic.

His glare doesn’t drop, and a childish impulse tells her to return it. She didn’t want to be an adult when the he, the world, and all the little regrets were being unfair to her. She knows she fucked up. She gave up her partner, her friend, her confusing source of feelings she did not need to identify right now, for…

Hunks of cogs. Scrap metal. Parasites made of the equivalent of an atomic bomb and lighter fluid sucking at whatever scraps of magic a human could contain. All loving connected to the ends of her thighs and twice as shiny.

She focused too hard on distracting herself, a tear slipping through her “brave” facade. She saw him shift, out of the corner of her eye, from murderous to agonizingly sympathetic.

“Haru…” he begins cautiously, eyeing her legs, “Why haven’t you moved your legs?”

“I didn’t want to do it,” she blurts out, instead of answering, “Turning you in. I didn’t even really want to do the whole “Demeter” thing, but hey, who can say no to Macavity?”

She laughs. He doesn’t. She wishes she hadn’t.

“I knew if I turned myself in, let Macavity know I wasn’t going to do this anymore… He’d just send someone else. Someone not me. And where would I be? Locked in a room with no way to get out.”

She takes in a shuddering breath, “No way to rescue you.”

There’s more life to his appearance, more flesh than bark, but he’s just as stoic as when she began. She sits before him, waiting for something to snake across his face so she can get a read, an idea. But nothing. Green eyes, still faintly glowing, remained fixed on lead, and cogs, and betrayal, and a haphazard reason she could barely stand on.

Hardy har har.

“Okay.”

That’s it?

“That’s it,” he echoes back, just as she realizes she’d said the thought out loud.

“But-” she sputters, attempting to lurch up before remembering her body had taken a democratic vote to be everything but useful and complying, “After every- How could you- Do you have- Do you not realize what betrayal is, Humbert?!”

They both paused at the sound of his name, a moment of red light flashing between that’d been all but forgotten. She wonders, dimly, and not for the first or last time, if that was his real name or one he’d picked up over the years.

“You’ve saved my life countless times, Haru, as yourself and as my partner, Demeter. The betrayal was unexpected, and it hurt, but…”

He looks at her, made up of hope and magic, and she realizes how badly she’d read the moments leading here. How easily fear can come across as anger, confusion as hurt.

Oh.

‘Do you trust me?’

Didn’t know the play, but still willing to play the part.

“I think, Haru, I can afford to put a little trust in you.”

Well, now she’s a goddamn fool.

“Humbert,” she chokes out between tears, “I liked you better when you were emotionally constipated. I can’t handle this emotional rollercoaster.”

The laughter bubbles up unwillingly, shared between the two for a second as the whole situation registered into their minds. For a moment, though, she could almost believe they were just back at the tea shop.

If only the “red alert” alarm could be so kind.

The shrieking beeping stops, the flashing red light pinging on and glowing ominously steady.

Lockdown.

“Shit.”

“We’re trapped, aren’t we?”

“Lesson learned, heart-to-hearts saved for after great escapes.”

“With the state your legs are in, we can’t make it much farther, can we?”

Right, those appendages.

They’re busted from the 9th Hell and back, and can’t hold on to much of a charge. At least not the fake magic solutions usually put into the machine. She knows she can’t move. She knows she can’t stay.

She knows she’s too valuable to kill.

“Baron, you need to-!”

She feels a surge starting in her calves where he’d dug his fingers into the grinding gears, frozen lightning blazing through her veins. It shifts, feels like leaves stretching to sunlight, water running through roots, worms churning in the earth, and she’s back.

The light fades, but her legs click before whirring back to life, lowly humming with an abundance of energy. She catches her breath and watches the mirage of flesh melts away until he’s back to the animated wood form that tells her he’s barely got any magic running through him.

He gave her as much as he could.

She’s furious he gave her so much.

She can’t deny that having her legs devour something other than her own energy isn’t a nice feeling, though. She tests it, bends a knee, and watches it move like magic and machine and a normal human limb. It’s foreign and familiar and she wishes it was neither.

Humbert presses against the door, glancing down each end of the hallway through the window.

“We better get moving. I’m not letting either of us get left behind.”

He offers her a hand to stand up, one of many. But this feels different.

Her legs are heavy on her body.

The magic Humbert poured into her is nothing but crumbs for a black hole.

There’s still a dozen more floors before they’re even close to ground level.

She’s pretty sure her foot isn’t supposed to feel itchy.

“Ready, Haru?” he asks.

Well, they’ve had worse days.

Her hand clasps his.

“Ready.”