#that being said I uh. am bored and want to watch them fight

[lilacs-stash]

Actually no it’s not random, Nickel’s HATE for Balloon is a defense mechanism. He’s trying to protect himself and Suitcase. It’s the exact same behavior we see in S3 with Clover and Box, just at a different intensity and in a different context. Nickel doesn’t get super aggressive with Balloon until he and Suitcase get closer, he hates Balloon not just because he was manipulative in S1 but because he thinks he’s manipulating Suitcase.

Honestly the way Nickel acts towards Balloon in early S2 being pretty similar to how he acts with other people he doesn’t like, like Soap. Which implies that he wouldn’t have hated him so badly if Balloon and Suitcase weren’t friends.

Google is it normal to want to watch your ship argue this badly 

[astonmartinii]

match my freak | yuki tsunoda social media au

pairing: yuki tsunoda x fem rugby player reader

there's only one person who can match the yuki tsunoda radio freak...

MAIN MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

.・゜゜・ part of the aston martini summer olympics ・゜゜・．

yukitsunoda0511

liked by pierregasly, danielricciardo and 384,098 others

tagged: yourusername

yukitsunoda0511: spa was fine i guess, time to spend my summer break in france (ew) supporting the love of my life (yay)

view all comments

user1: 'fine i guess' as if we didn't get YOINTS

user2: tbf if my gf looked like that, points also wouldn't matter to me

pierregasly: FRANCE (EW)??? DID OUR HOMOEROTIC TENSION MEAN NOTHING???

yukitsunoda0511: oh so when i diss france we had homoerotic tension but when i said we were boyfriends i went too far 🤨

pierregasly: diss me all you want but not the homeland?

yukitsunoda0511: fine, i will from 5pm tomorrow

pierregasly: ???

yukitsunoda0511: because y/n will be there and therefore it will be the ONLY country in existence

pierregasly: i give up

user3: i need a man this down bad for me asap

user4: maybe it's time to lower my height requirements :(

yourusername: it's not how tall you are but how you are tall

user5: idk what the fuck that means

yourusername: IT MEANS SHORT KINGS PUT IN A LOT OF EFFORT WHY DO I HAVE TO SPELL OUT EVERYTHING? WHERE IS THE MEDIA LITERACY? THE READ COMPREHENSION?

user6: okay i think i now know ^^ why y/n and yuki are so good together

user7: i need someone to edit together their most iconic on field and radio moments together please for my mental health

yourusername: that's a crazy coincidence because the love of MY life will also be in paris 🤨

yukitsunoda0511: well i bet i love my love of my life more than you love your love of your life

yourusername: NUH UH

yukitsunoda0511: yep :PPPPPPP

yourusername: u wanna fight?

yukitsunoda0511: yes actually!

yourusername: well soz babe i can't get all hot and bothered before competing 🤷‍♀️

yukitsunoda0511: BORING

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, pierregasly and 318,905 others

tagged: yukitsunoda

yourusername: seeing yuki again: 10/10 ... realising he's not allowed in the olympic village and there's only cardboard beds anyway -100,000/10

view all comments

user12: so i suddenly understand why they give out so many condoms at the olympics

user13: why do they all go so feral?

yourusername: have you seen my man?

yourusername: AND THAT'S A RHETORICAL QUESTION TO SHOW OFF MY HANDSOME LITTLE MAN NOT AN INVITATION FOR YOU BITCHES TO THIRST

user14: noted 😔

pierregasly: i'm the one with a bad digital footprint but you're out here being just as horny as me on main

yourusername: i am allowed to ?

pierregasly: and i'm not allowed to?

yourusername: no

pierregasly: so fuck me i guess?

yourusername: let me be a woman in a male dominated field (being gross online)

yukitsunoda0511: yeah pierre stop trying to minimise womens' voices

pierregasly: how am i the bad guy again?

yourusername: man ❤️

pierregasly: yuki is a man?

yourusername: he's MY man which means he's been closely vetted and is basically one of the girls now

user14: i know visa cashapp rb or whatever the fuck they're called hate to see them coming

user15: it's the fact she's taller than most of the mechanics and she is always watching over them

yukitsunoda0511: i missed you so much but i can't wait to watch you beat the shit out of the competition

yourusername: for you, anything

yukitsunoda0511: a gold? so at least one of us can be world champion 🥺

yourusername: i'll win gold for you and then schedule in a friendly visit to see helmut

yukitsunoda0511: i think your mere presence could give him a heart attack

yourusername: oh well

user16: so real of her

olympics

liked by yukitsunoda0511, landonorris and 1,209,678 others

tagged: newzealandrubgy

olympics: the women's rugby final saw gold go home to new zealand!

view all comments

user17: okay yuki i am SEEING THE VISION

user18: i watched this game to see her and i am a changed woman

user19: i am no better than a man

danielricciardo: my personal favourite moment was when y/n clotheslined that poor girl, laughed in her face and said if she tried to get past her again she'd make trinket dishes out of her knee caps

yourusername: why thank you, i think my wit is my least appreciated part of my game

danielricciardo: i think we should honestly get you in the commentary box

yourusername: i'd make mince meat of crofty, he'd never say anything about yuki's radios again

danielricciardo: can you tell them to stop telling me to retire while you're at it?

yourusername: sure, i'm feeling generous

danielricciardo: a gold medal will do that to you

user20: so they weren't joking when they said that her and yuki are just the same person in different fonts ?

user21: my commentary team apologised about 20 times for her swearing on the broadcast but then they kept bursting out laughing whenever she said anything

yukitsunoda0511: HOLY FUCKING SHIT

yukitsunoda0511: GOAT GOAT GOAT MY GIRLFRIEND IS THE GOAT

yukitsunoda0511: i'm so proud, i love you y/n 🫶🏻🥹❤️‍🩹

yourusername: i love you too boo

yukitsunoda0511: can they let me in the room now? i'm getting withdrawal symptoms :(

yourusername: of course, i can't celebrate properly without you

yukitsunoda0511: 😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄

user22: picturing yuki waiting outside the team room is so cute

user23: the nz team instagram posted a pic of it on their story he had flowers and balloons (∩˃o˂∩)♡

yukitsunoda0511

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 893,401 others

tagged: yourusername

yukitsunoda0511: she matches my freak :)

view all comments

user25: oh believe me we know

user26: i'm like a confusing mix of scared AND turned on

yukitsunoda0511: you keep that to yourself

user27: okay sir 🤨

yukitsunoda0511: you can look but you can't touch :P

yukitsunoda0511: actually don't even look

yukitsunoda0511: don't even think about her ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡)

user28: this man is insane, i love him

yourusername: you LIKE HIM YOU APPRECIATE HIM FROM AFAR YOU MAYBE HAVE A PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIP YOU DON'T LOVE HIM THAT'S FOR ME AND ME ONLY

user29: oh they weren't joking about matching each other's freaks

yourusername: there's no one else i'd like to be a lil gremlin with :3

yukitsunoda0511: gremlins forever with you <3

yourusername: sounds like paradise to me !!

yukitsunoda0511: i'm on it ✍🏻

user30: is he going to propose ???

user31: hopefully (ㅅ •᷄ ₃•᷅ )

pierregasly: yeah i guess you guys are kinda cute

yukitsunoda0511: kINDA?

yourusername: i know this man ain't speaking on us

yourusername: kika is the face economy in that relationship

yourusername: her back must hurt from carrying the style in this couple

francisca.cgomez: well 🥹

pierregasly: WHAT ? HOW ?

yukitsunoda0511: don't call my girlfriend kinda cute then 🤨

user32: good lord

fin.

note: she's back !!!!!

[sweetlittlefawntears]

♡ my, my girl ♡

au : divider by chilumitos ! sorry i haven’t posted in a while i’ve been so tired n not motivated at allllll but im here haha i wanted to do more brothers best friend ellie ahhhhh i hope u all enjoy n sorry this isn’t that good like i said im feelin v unmotivated haha ;; i know i said yes to requests but i literally cannot do them rn please please bear with me

cw : DONT LIKE DONT READ !! virgin!fem reader x brothers best friend ellie williams , ellie is a bit of a perv , ellie dosent know how to convey her feelings so sometimes she’s mean (lol she’s a loser) , oral (reader receiving), NOT PROOFREAD DONT COME FOR ME ITS ONE AM. that’s it i think ?

wc : 1.8k

౨ৎ your brother had a best friend named ellie for as long as you could remember. she was gorgeous, with emerald green eyes that shone beautifully in the sun, and short auburn hair that looked so soft and cute as it fell around her face and ears.

౨ৎ you walked downstairs from your room, tired from studying and being holed up in your room all day. as you walked downstairs, you saw ellie and your brother sitting together in the kitchen, talking. you usually didn’t pay them any mind, but ellie kept staring at you. you hadn’t realized she would be downstairs, and were caught off guard when you realized she was standing in the middle of your kitchen.

౨ৎ as you walked downstairs, you moved to grab a glass from the cabinet behind ellie, but she didn’t budge. “can you move, please?” you say, exasperated. “look who finally came out of her cave!” ellie said, teasing you. you rolled your eyes as ellie finally stepped out of the way so you could get your glass. you walked over to the fridge, and ellie liked the way she could see your legs and thighs. you weren’t wearing much, just some small shorts and a white tank top, since you didn’t think anyone would be over at your house today. you also weren’t wearing a bra, because why would you do that in your own room? well, it was a bad idea, because ellie could see the entire outline of your body under the tight clothes you were wearing.

౨ৎ “damn, you showin’ off or something?” she says as you sip water from your glass. you glance at your brother, who is too obsessed with his phone to notice anything. “huh?” he says, looking up from his phone, oblivious. “cmon, let’s go watch something” he motions to the living room. ellie follows him, not paying any other glance to you.

౨ৎ later that night, you hear ellie and your brother fighting, no doubt over some stupid video game, or who won the fight they had just gotten into. you walk around your room, bored, but not wanting to go talk to your brother, because that meant seeing ellie.

౨ৎ you eventually decide to just take a shower and call it a night. you gather your things, grab a towel, and head to the bathroom when you see ellie standing right outside your bathroom door. you grab onto the towel you’re holding, and try not to act angry. “did you need something?” you say. “going somewhere?” ellie says in return. “i’m about to take a shower…?” you point to the fluffy white towel in your arms. ellie looks away, and grabs the back of her neck, rubbing it. “fuck, ellie, don’t imagine her naked…” she thinks to herself as she looks at you. “i was just gonna ask if you…wanted to watch a movie with us, but i guess- you uh…” she stutters.

౨ৎ “are you feeling okay?” you asks not used to seeing ellie like this. usually she was making some snide remark at you or pushing you around, trying to get you mad or riled up. she loved it when you were angry, it was so cute, like a little tiger. “i’m fine. are you?” ellie says, deflecting. “right. i’m gonna take that shower now.” you say, opening the door to the bathroom.

౨ৎ after your shower, you get out and walk into your bedroom, slipping on a cute pajama set, a small light gray baby tee and little gray shorts. it was your favorite. you were about to flop down on your bed and tuck yourself in to read your favorite book when you heard a slight knocking at your door.

౨ৎ you got up, a little annoyed that someone had interrupted your relaxing alone time, walked over to the door and opened it ready to tell whoever it was to go away when you saw ellie standing there. it was strange; she had never come up to your room like this before…

౨ৎ “hey. can we talk?” ellie said, and without waiting for your permission she stepped into your room. “nice room.” she commented, looking around. “what is it?” you asked timidly, seeing her walk around and pick up small trinkets and photos on your dresser.

౨ৎ “well…” she said, putting down a picture of you and your brother and turning to take a step closer to you. “we havent always gotten along, but..i never realize that youve gotten so..” she trailed off, wondering how to not sound creepy (which she totally was) talking about how much different you looked. how much more beautiful you looked lately…

౨ৎ “gotten so…what?” you say, honestly curious about where she was taking this. “cmon, you know. you…look good.” ellie said, eyeing you up and down slightly. “and you’re saying this, why?” you ask, slightly bratty since you felt it was your right, after all, she was so rude to you all the time, and never missed a chance to tease you. “cmon, puppy, youre cute. you know what i mean.”

౨ৎ and there it was. that stupid nickname she had given you. “puppy” might have sounded sweet, but ellie only teased you when you were younger for being naive, hence the nickname. but that was in the past, the nickname seemed so different now, almost loving.

౨ৎ she stepped closer to you, reaching out to touch your arms. “cmon, i see the way you look at me now too. i like you, ok?” she said, a little sternly, as if she was trying to convince you to even be in the same room as her. “ellie, this is-“ but she cut you off before you could continue by cupping your face and kissing you.

౨ৎ “are you okay?” ellie said, pulling back to see your flustered face. you took a minute to get used to the feeling of her actually wanting to touch you, to be near you, but once you had gotten over that, all you wanted was to feel her lips on yours. you were nervous, you’d only been kissed a few times and you could tell ellie wanted to do a bit more than just that.

౨ৎ you were pressed against the wall next to your bed, whimpering under her. “needy, huh?” she said, pressed her right knee between your legs. “i like patient girls, y’know.” as she grinded against you, giving you the friction you so desperately craved, you couldnt help but moan softly into her mouth as her tongue brushed your lips, silently asking to be let in. of course you spread those pretty lips of yours to let her taste every inch of your mouth, faint sounds coming from both of you as you kissed filling room with a sinful air of lust and heat.

౨ৎ eventually you two make your way over to your own bed, sitting in ellies lap with your back pressed against her chest, ellie comfortingly shushing you and reassuring you that she would take good care of you. “shh, bun, s’okay. ive gotcha.” she said soothingly as she pulled down the little gray shorts you were wearing and tossing them to the side of your bed.

౨ৎ as her hand trailed down, further towards your panties, slipping under the soft cotton, she felt the wetness of your cunt under her slender fingers. “this your first time…?” she asked, rubbing gentle circles around your clit. “well- thats…” you trail off. “none of my business?” she finishes your sentence for you. “s’okay if it is, bun.” she says as she continues to circle your pearl, drawing out whimpers from you.

౨ৎ ellie puts her hand over your mouth. “sorry bun, s’much as i like hearing those pretty sounds, you dont want your brother to know about this, do you?” she was right, like always. you shook your head slightly, almost unable to comprehend anything except the way her soft fingers felt touching you. “so, so wet for me…” she says among other praises.

౨ৎ “you think you’re ready bun?” she says, sliding her fingers towards your sweet entrance. “mhm…” you said, almost shaking with anticipation, holding onto her forearm, her other hand still gently covering your mouth. as she slides two fingers inside you, you grip onto her thigh as she continues to slowly push her fingers in and out of you. “so good, bun. just like that.” she said as you moaned softly each time she pulled out of you.

౨ৎ “you look so cute like this..i wish i couldve seen it earlier.” ellie said, smiling to herself at the proud moment of being able to be the first one to have you like this. “taking my fingers so well, huh?” she said, not even expecting a reply as you were already too fucked out to think for yourself.

౨ৎ “you can cum whenever you want, bun.” she said. usually she wouldve made you beg for it, or been a little mean, but there was something about how sweet and pure you looked taking her fingers, sitting between her legs on your own bed committing such a sinful act that enticed her so much she couldnt wait to feel you lose yourself and cum all over her fingers.

౨ৎ as you whimpered softly under her, she moved the hand over your mouth to softly stroke your thigh. “s’okay, just be quiet…” she said as she comforted you, still pushing those damn fingers in and out of you. it didnt take long after that for you to cum, trying to hold back your moans, and of course she praised you the whole way through.

౨ৎ “aw, you just look so so cute like this…” she said, looking at your face, slightly flushed and sweaty from the way she had made you feel. without missing a beat she slowly pulled her fingers out of you, and, since she was ellie, bringing them to her mouth to lick them clean.

౨ৎ as you layed on her, breathing still heavy, she got up and guided you to the bathroom, cleaning you gently and whispering sweet nothings and apologies for you being overly sensitive. the coldness of the bathroom and the warmth of her body and hands on you, and the way ellie helped you step into a fresh pair of panties felt so loving to you.

౨ৎ as you laid next to her in your bed, she softly stroked your hair, watching you as you fell asleep, kissing your cheek and cuddling you from behind. she hoped you would still feel good about this in the morning.

౨ৎ it was definitely safe to say that your first time being with ellie was exactly the way it was supposed to happen.

HAIII thank you for reading im literally so fucking tired and this is so so so shitty i swear on my life i hate this but i really reallllyyy wanted to post for you all :( im sorry for not getting to requests i will try my best but like i said ive been so so sooo unmotivated, anyways ENOUGH PITY PARTYING hopefully someone will enjoy this AHHHH

[ktownshizzle]

Nerd & Nerdier | Chapter 5

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader, Jeon Wonwoo x reader; endgame? x reader ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Attempt At Comedy, Roommates au, Love triangle

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Moving in with two introverts should have been easy. Not when it’s Min Yoongi and Jeon Wonwoo, who decide they both want you. Unhinged, awkward, and nerdy as hell, they proceed to compete for your attention in the most unnecessarily dramatic fashion that culminates into a… rap battle.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Wildly gratuitous, You might 100% chance you’ll fall in love with both of them so that’s a problem, no mxm dynamics to be expected

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: noods vs nudes debacle, smoking cigarettes, fangirls, yoongi being so good at archery, kissing

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 2.7k ✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: March 16, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Thank you to @angellekookie for beta reading. and THANK YOU for reading my stories. Just hit 1k followers and it's kind of cool, yk. Appreciate your support and love. Enjoy this one~ :)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

You like to think this was a selfless idea.

After all, things had been weird ever since the dates. Not bad-weird, just different. The kind of different where Yoongi watches you longer than necessary when he thinks you won’t notice and Wonwoo suddenly likes sitting just a little closer than before.

And okay, maybe you liked the attention. Maybe you liked them competing for your time. And maybe—just maybe—you wanted to indulge in the idea that this was your own personal season of The Bachelorette (or Single’s Inferno, if you were feeling extra dramatic).

But mostly? You just wanted to spend time with both of them together again. So, in the spirit of "bonding," you suggested an activity that felt fun, safe, totally neutral.

Archery.

Roommate Rule #4: If You Plan a Group Outing to Bond, Be Prepared for Chaos.

The moment you step into the archery range, Yoongi sighs like he’s already bored. You give him a stern look and his lips thin into a straight line, chin dimpling as he pretends to now be well-behaved. Meanwhile, Wonwoo is practically vibrating with energy. He cracks his knuckles, rolls out his shoulders. Honestly, with the amount of gaming he does, he might just be naturally good at this.

An instructor teaches you three the basics. You’re the only one listening, because Yoongi seems to be disassociating heavily and Wonwoo is so hyped up like he’s in a real first person shooter game.

You volunteer to go first. You step up to the line, nock the arrow, and pull back the bowstring. It takes a little adjusting, but your shot is decent. Not perfect, but it hits the board. 6.

“Not bad,” Yoongi muses, arms crossed.

“You sound so surprised,” you scoff.

“I am.”

Wonwoo steps up, brimming with confidence. He draws back. Pouts his lips. Aims. Releases.

Misses. Completely.

Like. It was not even close. It did not even hit the board or the one beside it.

“What the—” Wonwoo blinks at the target, as if it is the problem. “That can’t be right.”

Yoongi tilts his head. “It looked right to me.”

“Hyung...” Wonwoo whines, but quickly grabs another arrow. Misses again.

“-100 aura?” Yoongi supplies unhelpfully.

You purse your lips, fighting the laughter bubbling up in your throat. “Uh… maybe you just need to adjust a little?”

“I don’t need to adjust,” Wonwoo grumbles, rolling his shoulders. “I just need to—”

Then Yoongi steps up. Casually. Effortlessly, as he does everything else. He draws back, barely even aiming—shoots.

It’s a perfect bullseye.

Wonwoo stares.

You are so gagged. “Wait. You never said you were good at this.”

Yoongi shrugs, completely unfazed. “I’m good at everything.”

Wonwoo just stands there, arrow still in hand, confidence actively crumbling. “Hyung, you gotta show me once…”

And of course, Yoongi is not a complete asshole, so he does give Wonwoo a few pointers. Spends time with the basics and a few of his own techniques. (“Don’t pout when you aim, unless you wanna split your lip.”) He’s actually a good teacher.

But even after that, Wonwoo misses twice more. You study his expression, and he is visibly struggling. His shoulders are tense, his grip is stiff, and you can see the frustration in his expression.

You feel bad now.

“You’re just tense,” you say, stepping closer, placing your palms on his shoulder, squeezing a bit. “Breathe. Relax this.”

Wonwoo exhales, nodding as you adjust his stance, fixing his grip.

Yoongi coughs. You ignore him.

Then, finally, Wonwoo releases the arrow—and it actually hits the board this time. 4! A win is a win!

“See?” You grin, patting him on the back. “Better!”

Wonwoo still pouts. “Still not good enough, though.”

“You’re good at other things,” you offer.

Yoongi scoffs. “Yeah? Name one.”

Wonwoo mutters, “…Being tall.”

You giggle as Yoongi responds with an, “I’ll give you that.”

After the tragic archery session, you all end up at a pocha close to your apartment. Greasy food, cheap soju. The vibes are always good here.

The three of you settle into your usual spot, the server spotting you with your usual digs: tteokbokki, odeng, soju, beer.

Yoongi is nursing his beer, Wonwoo is distractedly scrolling on his phone, and you are already halfway through your second soju shot because tonight just feels like one of those nights.

And then, it happens.

At the next table, a group of three girls keeps sneaking glances over, whispering.

It doesn’t take long before one of them gathers the courage to approach, smiling directly at Wonwoo.

"Hi! Sorry to bother you, but—" she bows in slightly, eyes wide with curiosity. "Are you a streamer? You look so familiar."

Wonwoo blinks, caught completely off guard. “Oh—uh, yeah. I stream sometimes.”

One of the other girls gasps. “I knew it! You’re gameboy17. We watch your streams all the time!”

The third girl, the boldest of them, rests her chin in her hand, smiling. “Wow, I didn’t think you’d be even cuter in person.”

Yoongi and you exchange knowing glances, while Wonwoo.exe has stopped working.

His jaw tightens, ears slowly turning pink, and for a second, he looks like he’s about to short-circuit. But then, he rubs the back of his neck, clears his throat, and finally gets his footing.

“Oh—uh, thanks,” he says, offering a tiny, lopsided grin.

And just like that, the girls pounce.

They start asking him a million questions. What games does he play? How long has he been streaming? Does he have a girlfriend?

You sip your drink, completely unbothered.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is studying you carefully over the rim of his beer.

Wonwoo’s getting visibly more comfortable now, leaning into the attention, his usual awkwardness melting away under the weight of all this praise. The way they’re hanging off his every word, you’re pretty sure these girls are the type to let him ruin their lives, and he knows it.

And then—

"Oppa, you don’t have to third-wheel with your friends,” one of them pouts. "Come join us at our table."

Wonwoo freezes. His ears go from pink to red.

Yoongi’s lips twitch, barely suppressing a smirk, but you can hear a hum of satisfaction as he takes a slow sip of beer.

Your face prickles, heat spreading up your neck at the sudden, unexpected insinuation. You feel the attention shift to you now, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

You could make him suffer. But you’re feeling merciful.

"We're all just roommates," you clarify, giving Wonwoo an easy out.

The girls nod in understanding, but it does nothing to deter them. They go right back to chatting him up.

And then—you make a mistake. Maybe it’s the soju, maybe it’s the pure chaos of it all, but the moment you invite them to join your table, they actually do.

Wonwoo looks horrified. But when he glances at you, you just give him a nod like, it’s okay, enjoy the attention.

And really, why wouldn’t he?

The girls are practically draped over him now, leaning in closer every time he speaks, laughing a little too hard at things that aren’t that funny.

You should be annoyed. You should be jealous.

But as you sip your drink, seeing him interact with girls who are not you, you feel nothing.

Or rather, you feel something… but it isn’t jealousy. It’s just… curiosity.

Wouldn't you be irritated if you really wanted Wonwoo?

The thought lingers, curling around your brain like the cigarette smoke Yoongi just puffed out. Then, he speaks, casually pulling you from your reverie.

"So," he says. "You’re awfully quiet."

You blink, glancing at him. "No, I’m fine."

Yoongi doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he just reclines in his seat, taking another drag from his cigarette.

"How’s work?" he asks.

And that’s that. The subject shifts. You talk about annoying coworkers, upcoming deadlines, the usual. And for the rest of the night, you and Yoongi stay in your own little world while Wonwoo enjoys the fruits of his unexpected fame. Which includes three new contact numbers saved on his phone.

By the time you head home, Wonwoo looks exhausted. He’s more quiet than usual, walking with a pensive expression like he’s deep in existential thought.

Yoongi glances at him, amused.

"You good, Romeo?"

Wonwoo exhales deeply. "I wasn’t prepared."

You laugh, nudging his elbow. "What, for being hot?"

Wonwoo turns his head slowly, expression serious. "Yes."

For once—even Yoongi has nothing to say.

It’s a lazy afternoon, and you’re perched at the kitchen counter, elbow-deep in a steaming bowl of instant ramen. Across from you, Yoongi is doing the same—hoodie sleeves pushed up, one hand cradling his chin, the other lazily twirling noodles around his chopsticks, humming some old cartoon show tune.

The apartment is quiet, peaceful, and a little lazy. Just how you like your Sunday mornings.

That was until the bedroom door creaks open and Wonwoo finally emerges from his crypt after a night-long stream.

His hair is a disheveled mess, his glasses slightly crooked sliding further from his oily nose, and his oversized shirt is barely hanging off his shoulder. You don’t even bother greeting him properly.

“Want noods?”

Suddenly, Yoongi chokes violently on his soup. A horrifying spluttering sound follows, and then he’s spitting the broth back into his bowl.

“The fuck,” he wheezes.

You blink at him. A little disgusted. “You okay?”

Yoongi glares, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. ”Am I okay? Are you okay saying shit like that?”

And then it hits you.

The phrasing. The implication.

“Duh,” you roll your eyes defensively. “Of course, I meant noodles—”

But it’s too late. Because Wonwoo is grinning. Amused. Like he’s enjoying this a little too much.

“Easy, hyung,” he murmurs, plopping onto the seat next to you, stretching like a cat.

You flounder. Panic.

“Noodles!” you stress, voice a pitch too high. “I was just teasing him about the “nudes” his fangirls keep sending him!”

Wonwoo tilts his head slightly, clearly entertained. “So you are thinking about me getting nudes?”

Yoongi groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can you two not do this in front of me?”

But Wonwoo just smirks, turns to you with his obnoxiously open mouth like you were about to perform a tonsillectomy. 

“Ahhh…” he vocalizes and you’re left with no choice but to shovel a big bite towards his mouth.

He chomps away happily. “Thanks for your noods, noona.”

“Hajimaaa,” Yoongi deposits his bowl in the sink and storms to his room.

“You’ve really got some nerve pulling that shit without even brushing your teeth first,” you taunt him.

“Please, you’d still kiss me, noona. I just know it.”

But before you can react, he’s already jumping to another topic. "So I wanna take you out again."

You blink. That was… again, the balls on this dude. Maybe those fangirls really are boosting his confidence like no other.

"You do?"

"Mhm." Wonwoo nods, tapping his fingers idly against the table. "Unless…" He shifts slightly, picking an imaginary lint from his t-shirt. "…you’ve already picked hyung?"

You stiffen. You’re not answering that. 

And Wonwoo? He sees that.

“Where would you even take me?”

He smiles, “Just leave it all up to me.”

It’s well past midnight when you wander into Yoongi’s room, mischief brewing like the bowl of soup caged in your palms.

His monitor glows softly, headphones on, glasses perched low on his nose. He’s completely lost in his work—clicking through audio tracks, adjusting levels, frowning at something only he can hear.

You lean against the doorway, watching him for a moment before stepping inside.

“Yoongi.”

No response.

So you do what any normal, sane, mature person would do—you poke his cheek.

Yoongi winces instantly, before finally removing his headphones. “Mm?”

You grin, setting the steaming bowl down beside his keyboard. You see the split second of fear in his eyes, but to his credit, he overlooks the danger to his expensive equipment in favor of humoring you for your sudden appearance in his room.

“You want noods?”

His eyes narrow immediately.

“Is this a real question,” he asks slowly, “or another attempt to emotionally scar me?”

“I literally made you ramen, and this is the thanks I get?”

Yoongi huffs, finally setting his work aside. “You made this yourself?”

“Instant ramen is not that hard, Yoongi.”

“Then why do you always make me cook?”

You gasp. “I slaved over this, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Aish. Slaved over? You just said it’s not that hard.” He chuckles, shaking his head, but then—without a word—he picks up a bite of noodles and holds it out.

You blink.

“What—”

“You made it,” he says simply, nudging the chopsticks toward you. “Taste it first.”

You let him feed you, swallowing slowly, too aware of the way his eyes are on you.

“Not bad,” you murmur.

“Mm,” Yoongi hums, picking up his own bite. “Guess I’ll take your noods after all.”

Aha!

And that’s when you strike.

“Okay then.”

You tap your phone against his, the soft ding of a successful Quick Share (Samsung supremacy! Airdrop eat shit!) filling the quiet. You walk backwards a bit, planning to make a great escape once you see his reaction.

Nothing yet. Yoongi just watches intently, waiting for the transfer to go through. A tiny preview of the photo comes and goes, then—his entire body goes rigid.

He drops the chopsticks, grabs his phone so suddenly it’s almost comical as he swipes to find your little present.

Then, in a hushed, slightly wrecked sort of way—

“Oh, what the fuck.”

You bite your lip, observing as he exhales sharply through his nose, his gaze flicking between his phone and you, then back to his phone like he’s trying to make sense of what he is looking at.

A cute little selfie from your last beach trip—camera angle from above, offering a perfect view of sunblock-slicked cleavage, bikini straps barely visible. Popsicle in hand, tongue teasingly out, eyes bright with mischief. Not exactly nudes. He hasn’t earned those yet. But this doesn’t leave much to the imagination either.

Slowly, he places his phone down. Carefully. Deliberately.

And then, voice low and kinda menacing: “If you don’t get over here right now—”

Your breath catches, because he’s dead serious. His thighs part slightly, his hands flex once on the arm rest—like he’s ready for it, like he wouldn’t hesitate to pull you right onto him.

And you want to. So badly. But instead, you smirk.

“Finish your ramen first.”

Yoongi groans, throwing his head back slightly, but he’s smiling now, too—small, exasperated, but real.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“I know.”

You finally inch towards him, then he grabs your wrist, pulling you in as he wanted to, sitting sideways on his lap.

“You really had that just sitting in your gallery?” he asks.

“Maybe.”

His fingers skim along the inside of your arm, his breath warm against your cheek.

“What are you doing to me?”

“Nothing,” you whisper, tilting your head slightly. “Yet.”

Yoongi chuckles under his breath, and finally, he kisses you.

It’s slow, warm, just a brush of lips at first, like he’s testing himself, testing you. But then his hand cups the back of your neck, and suddenly, you’re sinking into him, letting him pull you in completely. Just as quickly as it started, though, he pulls away.

A breath of space between you.

“Go to bed,” he murmurs, voice rough but fond.

“You too,” you whisper back.

He huffs a soft laugh as you stand up.

You take a slow step back, your heart still pounding way too hard as you slip toward the door.

And just before you leave, you call, “Good night, Yoongi.”

His gaze lingers, his lips twitching slightly before he finally looks back at his ramen. “Good night.”

And the last thing you see before the door clicks shut is the way his fingers hover over his phone—still debating whether to check that photo again.

:)

Chapter 6 >

A/N: heheheheh.... what did you think???

Permanent Taglist: (the rest to follow in a reblog)

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie

Divider by: @cafekitsune (thank you!)

[mer-acle]

Snippet: Slipping through my Fingers

Two swords clashed against each other with a metallic ring, again and again, until one of them landed in the sand of the arena. Ares grunted in frustration. Athena sighed. "Your footwork," she reminded. "You keep forgetting." "It's because you're bigger than me!" he complained. "No, it's because you're being sloppy. I teach you these things because you need them, they aren't flourish. Go again." Ares pouted as he picked up his sword again and attacked his sister, strikes stronger than you would expect from a child of eight. Athena parried easily, letting him get a few more hits in than she would have normally, then disarmed him again. He dropped onto the sand with a huff. "This is boring. I just wanna hit stuff, Thena." Athena pressed her lips into a thin line. "Athena," she corrected. "I don't call you 'Res' either, do I?" He grinned. "You can, I wouldn't mind." She ignored that last part. "Anyway, I don't need to teach you to 'hit stuff'. I know that's something you can do very well on your own. I need you to take this seriously." Ares huffed again. "I thought fighting was meant to be fun." "Fighting's fun until the other person is trying to kill you," she said curtly. "Then you'll wish you'd listened to me. Now get up, and try again." He grumbled, but obeyed. He was getting less precise because he was annoyed, Athena noticed more and more missteps by the second. "Athena?" Even after years, Hera's voice still made her blood run cold. "Hold it," she said to Ares. "That's enough for now, run along." She really didn't want him there if Hera said something upsetting she'd have to fight to keep her composure for.  She straightened her back, folding her arms behind her as she walked over to Hera. Professional. She was nothing if not professional. Even with her. "You're pushing him too hard, Athena," Hera said, voice firm but not unkind. "He's just a child. He doesn't have your discipline yet." Athena looked at her, disbelief and anger mixing on her face. As if she'd had the discipline before it had been drilled into her. Not that Hera would know. She hadn't watched her train after all. "I'm doing him a favor," she said cooly. "The day will come where father will assess whether he's good enough, and if he thinks my training here will suffice, Ares won't have to spend his childhood elsewhere." Hera's eyes widened in surprise and shock. "I hadn't-" "Thought of it?" Athena interrupted cuttingly. "Yeah, I wouldn't think so. Luckily, I have." She turned and walked away without another look before her face could betray her. Hera didn't call her back.

As you can see I am not at all obsessed with this AU, nuh-uh

[admrlthundrbolt]

Reckless Paradise (Silco x Chubby Reader)

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

Having a food cart in the Undercity could be boring. But having Jinx as a regular customer made for interesting moments. When she has a fight with her father and comes to you for comfort. Well Silco thinks it's time to meet the person that his daughter always seems to run to.

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

Hey guys, I'm back at it again. So I just watched Arcane and fell in love with Silco. That of course means that he became my immediate muse and needed a story written. Anyways I hope you enjoy.

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

Jinx slammed a fist against his desk. “I just don’t understand why I can’t go to the meetings.”

Silco sighed. “Because your not old enough.” He gave the thirteen year old girl an irritated look. “We’ve been over this, it’s not safe for you.”

Her eyes began to water. Not wanting to let him see how upset she was, she ran out of the room.

As he watched her go his heart panged with sadness. It was always a hard task to tell her no.

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

Rushing down the street, she went to the only other place that felt safe. Your food cart was outside of the brothel. Joking that the workers there were the ones that needed a good meal the most. This logic kept your pots empty and pockets full. It also came with the bonus of the bouncer looking out for you. Something you were going to snub your nose at.

So to see one of your favorite customers stomping over to you. It was a sight to behold. The small blue haired teen was in a mood you rarely saw her in. Sneaking into your secret stash of fresh fruit. Something you kept on hand for her. You started peeling and slicing, as she plopped down on a stool.

“How's my favorite customer doin'?”

Folding her arms onto the edge of the cart, she laided her head on top of them. “Fine.”

As you put the final piece of fruit in the bowl you sighed in a exaggerated way. “To bad. I suppose I could trade this bowl of fresh fruit for a bit more information.”

She perked up at the offer, but raised her eyebrows in suspicion. “How much do I have to tell you?”

With a shrug you said. “Enough to make you get it off your chest.” Then you stuck out your hand. “Deal?”

A smile spread across her face and she shook your hand. “Now give up the fruit.”

Chortling at her demand, you slid the bowl to her. Then listen to her complain about her dad. You could see both sides of the argument. A kid that wanted to make her father proud. On the other hand a dad trying to keep his daughter safe. It was a tricky situation to say the least.

“I can’t stand when he treats me like a kid. When is he gonna take me seriously.” Her eyes began to water again.

Leaning forward you put a hand on her head, ruffling her hair. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but he just wants to protect you." She gave you a hard look, still you continued. “That being said, you should always know that you’re welcome here.”

Her grin returned, only to dampen. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Putting a hand on your hip, you smiled brightly. “Of course I am. You can make up when you get back home.” Wiping down the cart top, you put away the last of your wares.

Shaking her head feverishly, she stayed glued to the stool. “Nuh uh, I’d rather sleep on the streets tonight.”

Bitting your lip, you thought through the options. Only one solution seemed the way to go. “I can’t let you sleep in a random ally. Come on, were going to have a sleepover.”

Jumping up, she helped you finish packing up and push your cart home.

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

He paced behind his desk, eyes occasionally darting between the door and window. Where could she be, it's getting late. The door opened, only for Sevika to walk through.

Her eyes looked over him and she scoffed. “She's still not back.”

He grumbled under his breath. “No, obviously not.”

Rolling her eyes at the boss’ mood, she nodded her head towards the window. “I'll go look for her, anything to calm you down.” Going back through the door she barely caught his last comment.

“As you should.”

She could hear the worry bubbling up, so she let it slide.

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

Bring a spare blanket and pillow to the couch, you set up a temporary bed. As Jinx skipped towards you, you gave her a mock glare. “Did you brush your teeth?”

She nodded with a frown. “The paste tasted weirded.” Then jumped onto the couch.

Tucking her under the blanket you laughed. “Sorry I only have mint. Now off to bed, need to rest up if you want to help me with the cart tomorrow.” This got her to settle down quickly. Brushing a bit of hair, that wouldn't fit into the braids you gave her, you turned off the lights.

Doing your own nightly routine, you were bombarded by thoughts of the girl lying on your couch. You tried to look after anyone that needed it, but Jinx was a special case. She had been through so much tragedy in her young life. She also had a habit of clinging to you after a fight with her father.

A sudden knock at your door startled you from your pondering. Waiting a moment, hoping it was someone at the wrong place. But as another louder knock sounded, you made your way over to the door.

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

Sevika grunted in annoyance and glare into the distance. It didn't take long, after asking around, to find out where the brat had gone. A food cart that hangs around the brothel. The only problem was no one would tell her where you lived. How was she supposed to question you if nobody would give up your location.

After more time than she would like to admit, someone spilled the info. It was a useless little welp that often gets thrown out of the brothel for wanting free services. He called you a stuck up bitch, because you wouldn't give him the time of day. So he was all to happy to direct her to your home.

Now that she was in front of your door, she hoped this would be simple from here on out.

Though when the door opened it wasn't at all what she expected. There you stood plump and with prominent laugh lines on your face. You looked all of a motherly type. So the frown on your face as you stared at her seemed out of place on you.

“Can I help you?”

She glanced past you and her eyes widen as she spotted the girl. Pointed her out, she said. “I'm here for her.” Seeing you block her view, by closing the door a bit, she added. “Bosses orders.”

Narrowing your eyes at her, you flashed a look over at the kid. Stepping outside of the doorway, you quietly closed the door behind you. “I'm not sure who your boss is, but I can make a guess.” You placed your hands on your hips as an exasperated expression sat on your face. “Look she's already asleep and doesn't want to go home. Do you really want to carry her back kicking and screaming.”

She cringed at the thought, the brat was bad enough in a good mood. Giving you another once over, she thought back on her search for you. Not one person had a bad thing to say about you. Plus if the brat was comfortable staying with you, what was the harm.

“Tell you what, my cart is set up at the brothel. Why don't you let her father know that he can pick her up to his leisure there tomorrow. I'm sure the gesture would make a better impression on her than dragging her home.”

You made a good point. So with a shrug and a smirk she said. “I'll let him know the situation. But I can't guarantee that I won't be sent back to kick in your front door.”

Putting your hands up in a sign of peace you shook your head. “No need, if he insisted I'll let you in. I just think him picking her up would mean a lot. Be it tonight or tomorrow.”

With a nod she starts making her way back to Silco. Only to stop after a few steps and turn back to you. “You know you have quite the reputation around here. Made it more of a challenge than I would have liked to find you."

This caused a sheepish smile to settle on your lips. “It helps when you can provide a hot meal.”

Her smirk deepened. “Maybe"

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

When she got back to the office he was half asleep in his chair. Slamming the door shut, she quietly snickered as he jump in his seat.

“Wha.” He scanned the room and glared as his eyes landed on her.

She couldn't help but noticed how the look fit much better on him than you. “I found Jinx.”

Glancing around her, his visage swapped to one of confusion. “Well, where the hell is she.” He gestured about her and grew more agitated.

Folding her arms across her chest she slid onto the chair before the desk. “With a food vendor that sets up shop in front of the brothel.”

Rubbing his temples, he tried to kept his temper in check. “And you didn't bring her back because?”

“The woman made to many good points.” She then launch into a recap of her conversation with you.

As the explanation was given, he couldn't help but agreed with you on most points. What he didn't like was you not giving him his daughter. How dare you keep what belongs to him, even if it was for only a night. He could tell by the way that Sevika spoke of you, it seemed you had garnered her respect. Which was a hard won thing to achieve. “Do you agree with her?”

This caused her to pause. Then realize that even if it wasn't what he wanted to hear, the truth was her answer. “Yes, she has the trust of the common folk and Jinx. Trying to disrupt either could result in negative backlash.”

He had to consciously unclenched his jaw. It was a thought out and comprehensive analysis. But not what he wanted to consider. “I suppose that given the situation, a little time apart could do us some good. Does she seem of the trustworthy sort.” His scrutinizing gaze rested firmly on her. Taking in any body language that may betray her thoughts.

“In all honesty, I didn't hear a single bad thing about her. Except that waste Mitch, but his opinion matters as much as a sewer rat's. It's like she's made herself a positive facet in the tunnels of the Undercity.” Placing her hands on the arm rest she leaned forward. “She might even be able to help with getting through Jinx's teenage years. Having some one she can confided in that's outside of the family business. Someone that you could keep in your back pocket for times such as these.”

The suggestion made his hackles fully lower. That could be a great boon in helping keep his daughter in line. For the first time that night he smiled. “Yes, it may be the right moment for me to meet this vendor. I will be freeing up tomorrow morning to gather Jinx from this woman.”

Nodding she had to restrain herself from smirking. She had a feeling that this meeting would be an entertaining event, to say the least.

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

He walked down the street with his usual swagger. The past couple of years had his reputation skyrocketing. Taking shimmer from a small lab to a large scale production had made him a respected yet feared person.

Still it seemed there were people like you. People who weren't under the thrall of his power. So to say he was taken aback at seeing you for the first time, would be an understatement.

Your cart was homey and decorated with many personal touches. There were a few plants hanging about the canopy. Odd sizes of seating set up in front of a bench attached to the cook top. Jinx was next to you, listening to you give her patient instructions.

Then there was you. Comfortable casual clothing clung to your plump body in an alluring manner. Your cheeks were flush with effort as you mixed together a bowl of ingredients. A beaming smile made him glance away, for fear your brightened expression would blind him.

He pauses and took a moment to gather himself. This was not at all the type of senerio he saw himself stepping into.

You noticed movement not to far from your cart and glanced towards it. It wasn't hard to realize it was Silco, Jinx's father. The marred eye was his biggest giveaway. Still you couldn't help taking in his lithe figure and handsome angular features. You had no idea that such a tantalizing treat was scouring the Undercity, right under your nose too.

It was a few moments later that he heard his daughter call him over. Putting on his best face he made his way over to the pair. “Hello Jinx, how pleasant to see you this morning.” He was hoping the jab would be understood.

She looked up at him with excitement as she flipped the cooking batter. “Hi, can you believe how good this smells. I've never had breakfast from here.” She turn her attention back to the cook top and continued flipping.

“Well thank you honey. I'm glad that you feel that way." Facing him you nodded your head at the seats. “Take a seat, it won't be long before it's ready.”

He was grateful for the invitation. She was right about the smell, it was heavenly. “I believe I will take you up on that. My daughter didn't give you to much trouble, did she?”

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you began to plate up some fresh fruit and hot cakes. “Not at all. If anything she's been a great help. Didn't even complain about waking early to set up the cart.”

She perked up and jumped onto the seat next to him. “Yeah, we were out here before the morning rush. You should have seen all the people that came by.” She began shoving food in by the shovelful.

Noticing a plate had also been slid in front of him, he took a bite. It was delicious, the pairing of the lightly dressed fruit and warm pillowy cakes. He hadn't enjoyed a meal this much in a long time. Finishing the dish faster than he would have liked to admit, he couldn't keep his gaze from you.

You moved with such practiced precision behind the cook top. The way you wielded your knife made him believe you could transition into a proper assassin easily. But as he looked over at his daughter, smiling and chatting with you. He knew that you were in a better postition here.

Finishing the delectable dish he brushed away any debris from himself. “Thank you for the fabulous food. But I think it's time we be on our way.” He stood, then turned to Jinx. She was disappointed, though she followed his lead.

Smiling at the duo you held out a container filled to the brim with various items. “Here's something for the road. And I don't want either of you to hesitate to come back either.” Winking at the pair, your smile widened at the happiness on the kid’s face.

Nodding at you, he hoped his expression didn’t show how flustered he was. You were stirring feeling in him that he hadn’t felt in quite some time. “We will have to do this again then, Mrs….”

A more alluring cast settled on your face. Full attention landing on him you said. “Actually it's Miss (Y/N).” Holding out your hand, you gave his a healthy lingering shake.

Keeping a calm appearance he released your hand. “A pleasure, until next time.” Walking away with Jynx, as she called out her goodbyes. He couldn't help glancing back. Only to be shocked at your eyes raking over his own figure. Your gaze met after a few moments and you gave him a heated look. The spell broke as his daughter yanked him forward, going on about how much fun she had with you. It had him thinking about all the fun times that you and he could have together. But that would come in time. For now he would enjoy you through the stories Jinx were telling.

[fish-eat-fish]

⋆ Gwen x f!reader ⋆ Sleep ⋆

request: @hyunslvvr can u pls do one for f!reader x gwen where they have a day in and they just stay in bed:)

tags: fluff, comfort, wlw, cuddling

word count: 2.1k

a/n: im paving away at requests rn, this one had me kicking my feet i LOVE gwen stacy _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR REQUESTING FOR HER, another one for the gays <3

✰✰✰

Un unbelievable stack of homework and two essays due. You couldn’t believe it. The sunlight beamed through your window and shined onto your desk, papers covering its surface as you tiredly scribbled on your assignment papers. Friday night and you had nothing better to do than weekend homework, how miserable. You sighed, tapping mindlessly on your desk when a buzz from your phone interrupted you. Picking it up, you smiled seeing it was Gwen.

It read, “on the way, open ur window!”

You sighed at the words, setting down your pencil and getting up out of your chair to unlock your window. Gwen had a bad habit of breaking in when she wanted to. You’d already assured her your family was okay with her visiting, preferably through the front door. But she always insisted that it was easier this way. Socializing seemed to sometimes stress her out you noticed.

Unlocking your window with a click, you raised it open, taking a nice breather as cold air blew in. The sunset was particularly nice today, and you didn’t quite mind seeing your favorite person right now. Sitting on your bed, you spiffed up your room for Gwen, making the bed and cleaning your cluttered desk. Just as you were about to exit your room to go and grab some snacks, a few knocks on your window sill signaled that your girlfriend had arrived. You turned around and beamed.

“Hey, sorry for the late notice.” She apologized, sitting on your window sill and climbing down from it. Taking off her white mask, Gwen sat down on your bed, crashing down on it. Until she rose up again.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Thank you for remembering.” You teased. Watching her take off her beaten-up shoes, and carefully placing them near the window on the floor. She let out a huff, flopping back onto your bed. Gwen’s suit was a little damaged and scratched. She looked tired.

“I’m not keeping you from anything, am I…?” She asked. It was obvious that she felt guilty about her visit. But you’d reassured her many times before that your room was always available to her whenever she wanted. And so was your company.

Eyeing the homework on your desk, you declared your study session over. It didn’t matter all that much compared to hanging out with her. “Nope. I’m glad you dropped by actually, I was getting bored.” You explained, looking at Gwen as she folded her legs up on your bed. Gwen awkwardly rubbed her arm as she looked around the room.

“So…”

“Yes.”

She raised her eyebrow, “You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

Rolling your eyes, you responded, “Yes you can sleep over. I don’t mind.”

Gwen smiled at you, relieved. You leaned back against your desk, “I’m glad you’re here.”

She smirked, “What, you missed me?”

“Actually I did, yeah.”

Looking at Gwen, you figured that she didn’t have the best day today, being a crime fighting hero and all. Walking up to her and leaning down, you placed a hand on her cheek and gave her face a quick kiss. She chuckled and peered up at you. You held onto her cheek momentarily, “I’m gonna go and get us some snacks. Have you eaten anything today?”

“Oh uh, I haven’t had the chance yet.”

“Gwen.” You said, sternly.

“I just had to go to band practice, then there was some jerk downtown and-” She spoke quietly, her voice dying down as you stared at her, an irritated look on your face. Gwen sighed and grabbed the back of her neck, her hair falling down to hide her guilty expression.

“Sorry…”

You sighed, smiling at her nonetheless, “I’m gonna go make us some food. Stay put Spider.” Gwen grinned at you, watching you walk out of the room. She took a deep breath, lying down as she observed your room like she always did. She loved the comfort you and your space brought her. Your room was decorated with posters and fairy lights.

Gwen looked around, deciding that she should probably change. It was an unspoken ritual for Gwen to pick out something from your closet. You’d let her do it once, for a sleepover. But ever since, she’d found routine in picking out an outfit of yours for her to wear and potentially keep if given permission.

She walked up to your closet, finding a pair of pajama pants and an oversized tee. She slipped it on as she changed out of her spider suit, carefully tucking it away to where it was out of sight. Just in case. Gwen tugged the shirt towards her face, taking in your scent. Her senses were filled with just you, as she felt at ease.

Walking over to your bed, she noticed a new photo in your little collage of Polaroids. It was from your last hangout. “The Mary Janes Concert–October.” In it, Gwen was holding you by the waist, her drumsticks clasped in her hand. Your arm held her cheek for a kiss, whilst the other held up Gwen’s Polaroid camera. Gwen was laughing as she looked in your direction, feeling proud of your praise of her performance.

That night your throat was so raspy from cheering for her, and Gwen felt absolutely ecstatic as you tackled her after the concert. She was happy to introduce you to her band members after, grabbing you by the hand and speaking with pride to announce you as her one and only girlfriend.

Gwen stared at the Polaroid, taking it in. She smiled and reached out, touching the photo. Moments like these felt surreal, and being reminded that someone as amazing as you were willing to stick by her and be in her life, made her woozy. Gwen loved you a lot.

The door cranked open as you walked in, a plate of sandwiches in one hand, and a mug of freshly brewed tea in your other. You set down the food on your nightstand, glancing at Gwen as she took her hand away from the Polaroid hung up above your bed. You observed her, obsessed with the way she looked in your clothes.

“Being nosy again?”

“Just lookin’ around.” She shrugged, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear.

You sat down next to her, the bed shifting under your weight. You held out the plate towards her, to which she gratefully accepted. Gwen dug in right away, mumbling incoherent words as she ate. You laughed at this, “I can’t understand you when your chewing, you know that right?” Gwen swallowed her bite and smiled at you, gesturing to her sandwich.

“This is seriously good. I’ll never get tired of your food.”

“Glad you like it.” You grabbed the mug off of the nightstand, passing it to her as she finished the last bite of her sandwich. Chamomile is Gwen’s favorite. You’d made an effort to always keep it in stock for her since she liked to crash at yours a lot. Gwen took it carefully in her hands, blowing on the tea to cool it down.

You grabbed a pillow off of your bed and hugged it to your chest, just quietly watching Gwen as she drank her tea. You gently smiled, as she seemed a little bit more energized now. Grabbing your own mug from the nightstand, you drank it quickly, uncaring of how cold it had gotten. Putting the mug down, you patted the bed. Gwen looked up at you curiously.

“I’m a little tired today, do you wanna…?”

Her eyes widened as she lowered her mug.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind.” She smiled at your offer, shifting off of the bed, and placing her tea on your nightstand. She lifted the covers off of your bed, carefully moving the pillows and occasional stuffed animals off to the side to make room. As Gwen got into the bed, you turned off your main light, allowing the darkness to consume your room. The sun had set long ago now, and it was time to wind down. You walked up to your fairy lights, switching them on so that only gentle orange light illuminated your room.

Carefully stepping over to your bed, you got in, placing the covers over yourself, noting how you were much colder before. The warmth of your covers had you snuggling into them deeper. You glanced over at Gwen, who looked a little unsure of what to do with herself. You two were still kind of new to the whole cuddling thing. It’d taken a long while for Gwen to be comfortable with physical contact like that on top of that. She let out a small laugh as you snaked your arm around her as you faced her.

“What?” You asked, curious of her amusement.

“I don’t think this position is natural for you.” She teased, noting how awkward your arm felt around her torso. Your body was also pretty stiff. Gwen’s face was gently glowing due to the string lights, her blonde hair fell down into her face as she shifted her body to face towards you. So much for being big spoon tonight.

There was a quick silence between the two of you. Your face was comfortably above the covers, whilst Gwen pulled them up to cover her exposed skin. Her heart was racing, as usual. She’d never gotten used to intimate moments like this, and she’d decided that she’d never get used to it. You made her nervous in all the good ways.

Gwen peered at you, the covers pulled up to half of her face. Nothing was said between the two of you. Leaning in closer, you gently moved her blonde hair out of her eyes. Talking no louder than a whisper, you spoke, “Your hair, I think the pink is fading, you should…”

Gwen shuffled, reaching out and grabbing your collar, pulling you closer to her. Her hair tickled your face as she hovered her face near yours, before carefully connecting her lips with yours. It was quick but intimate. And if not for the dark, Gwen would have definitely taken the opportunity to comment on the rising red on your cheeks. She pulled away, not completely leaving the kiss as her lips brushed over yours. And yet just like that it was over.

She cleared her throat as you lay there speechless, she glanced at your eyes through the dim room, avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

“We should probably sleep now. It’s getting… late.” She blurted. That statement was probably wrong, but you nodded anyways. Gwen’s internal alarms went off, as she criticized her judgment. That took a lot of courage, but she didn’t want you to know. Laying beside her, you stared at Gwen in awe and adoration. You loved this girl so much it was unbelievable.

“Fine.” You sighed. Gwen eyed you questioningly.

“Go on.” You said defeatedly. Gwen laughed at your words, smirking as she saw your expression.

“Finally.” She teased.

Turning over to the other side, you felt her cold hands wrap around your torso, pulling you in closer. Your bodies were snug against each other. Still being wide awake, you hoped Gwen didn’t feel your thumping heart as her hand was placed on your torso. She definitely did notice of course, but she was nervous too, hiding her face in your shirt.

You both lay there, nervous and awkward, as it was usually in the beginning stages of a relationship. You felt her move your fingers, playing with them.

“I think you’re the most amazing girl I know.” She spoke softly, into your back. Your heart fluttered at this. At Gwen’s voice, and the way she gave you affection.

“I love you,” you whispered out.

Gwen only smiled as she planted a soft kiss into your shoulder.

“I love you too.”

Yawning, Gwen mumbled something into your shirt, unable to really keep her eyes open any longer. You hummed, questioning what she said. But she didn’t reply. You’d finally calmed down, letting the comfort of the covers and Gwen’s warmth ease your mind. The city’s ambiance seeped into your room through the open window as you let your mind wander. Gwen’s breathing slowed down, her head placed on your back.

Readjusting yourself and the covers by pulling them up, you froze as Gwen stirred in her sleep. Cautiously, you pulled part of the covers over her. Gwen held onto your torso tighter and moved her face into your neck, her breathing tickling your skin. Holding her hand, you caressed her skin. Her hands were rough and calloused, evidence of her skills as a drummer.

Feeling Gwen twitch in her sleep, she subconsciously intertwined her fingers with yours. The only thing you could remember was Gwen’s touch as you dozed off. Gwen may have needed your comfort and presence the most after every day as Ghost-Spider, but she’d never understand that you needed her more than you let on.

✰✰✰

[shycrowns]

Transformer prime x magical girl reader

OCC (cuz i don't watch tf prime)

And yes i am a transformer fan

I want more magical girl reader stories RAHHHHHHHHHdsafasfawff3f

Gender neutral cuz why not, Ur the magical girl that fights in the shadow to defeat the evil shadows monster that eats people in their dreams and the people die when awake, your magical girlname is royalty Heart. It's your job to protect the lives and dreams of the people in Jasper Nevada.

let ‘s start the show shall we.

You're a magical girl that only protects people's dreams. You are the only one that has this ability and No one can to help you. You have a team but they can't help you why cuz i want it that way

—

Today was the same stuff as always, Your jumping and somewhat flying through a dreamscape to one then another it was nice seeing the soft clouded area but it was getting boring by now but nonetheless you enjoy being a magical girl being one has it perks like for one you can prank anyone if the dreamscape for fun and no one would know beside that your able to conceal your true self at least

As you jumping from a cloud to reach a certain entrance to a dream and head inside, Once inside you notice something strange this doesn’t seem like any ordinary dream but you know there’s those nasty shadows monster in here you feel it in your very core but still the dream seems so alien you never seen a place like this on earth as you float around you see a figure trying to fight the shadows monster that was really pointless since no one can defeat them unless your a magical girl but props for trying at least but theres not much time before this figure gets devour so you quickly ran up where the shadows were and use your magical hammer and hit the monsters with it and you keep attacking until all of the nasty monster is gone.

You turn around to see the figure you expected to see a normal human but instead you see a big ass tall robot that looks like a truck with blue and red paint, “um.. This is unexpecting, uh are you injured?..” you ask the truck like robot as i put your magical hammer down beside you with a nervous and awkward smile on your face as you waited, The truck robot responded “..i’m fine but how did you defeat these?..” The robot's voice sounds very calm and gentle as he crouches down to your height. “Um well, that's a secret but let me introduce myself. I'm Royalty Heart but call me Love that's what everyone calls me!” you said enthusiastically as you float once again, the robot introduced himself “i am Optimus prime..” Optimus said as he looked at you curiously “you’re a human, correct?” Optimus ask as he stood up from crouching, You answered “thats correct somewhat, I’m a Magical girl here to rid of those things you just tried to defeat” You explain in a short way i supposed, Optimus humm as he grabs you while you float which makes you yelp in surprised he then ask again “ROyalty heart, what's a magical girl if i may ask..” You stutter at first before answering that a magical girl is what people say young people getting the abilities to become one and have to fight dangerous shadows monster through alter egos of themself, since you technically (i did) casually drew your magical girl outfit in one of your notebook at school and some random Creature made you a Magical girl to defeat all evil of the shadows. Back to the story Optimus with a satisfied look (not really) then lets you go letting you float back where you are “..I see, so your job is to defeat these things. Are there others like you, little one?” he ask, You look at him “well yeah but we only got one place to defend each you see i'm the only one in my team of magical girls to go through dreams and visions” You then look at the time you realize it almost morning “It’s almost morning i have to go now goodbye big robot!” you said as you quickly left Optimus dream Optimus wanted to tell you to wait but it’s too late you already out of his dream, He sigh before waking up from his recharge, Optimus is still curious and wanted to learn more of this Magical girl stuff maybe the three children would be of an assistance.

(This kinda sucks...)

[likeysoob]

I’m so blind by likeysoob

Episode 1

“You ever thought high school would be easy?” My mom looked up from her phone to answer me. “Oh no sweetheart. I always thought it was going to be hard.” At least I’m tying to look for some hope before high school starts. I look down at the table just being lost in my thoughts until my mom puts a plate of food in front of my face. “Thanks mom.” I said then begun to eat.

When I finished with my food, I went upstairs to lay in my bed. My eyes started to burn but I didn’t really feel sleepy. As the time rolls around 9pm, i decided to go on my laptop and watch some videos. I really dont have friends. They all left me for some reason. I guess i was boring? They were bad friends anyways. I have online friends but I dont want to talk to them right now.

My cat just lays on the floor by my feet. 2 hours pass by and i start to feel tired. I get up and change into my pjs then lay in my bed. My eyes slowly began to fall as i feel my cat snuggle by my feet. I hope that tomorrow will be a good first day of high school.

Well, i woke up not good. My body hurts and i really dont know why. My mom was yelling at me saying i was late and now…“ I CANT BELIEVE YOU SLEPT THROUGH 3 OF YOUR ALARMS Y/N!” Yeah…she still is. I didn’t say nothing back and just let her continue. Soon, we were close the school and she was talking about basic high school stuff. Once we’re here, i unbuckle my seat belt and open the door to leave. “Oh and! No talking to boys! No boys!” I turn around towards her and smirk, “wasn’t planning on to mom!” I watch her drive off and smile to myself. “That’s because i like girls…”

When i reached the main doors, i took a look around. “Why is this school so big?” “I know right!?” I jump back in fear. I turn my full view onto the person next to me. Holy shit. Who sneaks up on someone like that? “Oh sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” The random girl apologized. I dont give 2 shits though. “Um yeah…it’s whatever.” I say, the girl smiles at me, man she’s pretty. “I’m Ning Yi Zhuo but just call me Ning!” She takes out her hand for me to shake and i do. “This is my 2nd year here and I’m still not use to how big it is…are you new here?” Ning asks me. “Um yeah actually, i just got here and yes, i do know where my classes are.” She smiles at me. “Great! I’ll see you around! The bell is about to ring!” Ning runs off. I actually don’t know where my classes are, i just don’t want to talk to people right now. I walk inside the school doors and turn the corner to see some boys already fighting. “Man it’s too early for this shit..”

After running around this whole school, i bump into someone who was clearly right in front of me…why am i so blind? I should really get glasses. I look up and see this girl with short hair. Damn, shes cute, why are there so many cute girls here?! “Oh im so sorry!” She said and i shake my head, “no it’s my fault, I wasn’t watching where i was going!” God this is embarrassing. “It’s fine!” She says, we stand there in silence. “Uh, sorry i got to go!” I ran out of that situation the fastest i can. Where the fuck can I find this class?

I soon found the class. Should i go in? Class ends in 10 minutes. As I’m deciding, the door swings open and a student walks by me. I look inside and the teacher is staring at me. “Sorry I’m…late?” You know, it really looks like i was skipping from the teachers point of view. “I’m sorry, im new here? I was having trouble finding my class…” the teacher only looks at me. The fuck? Bitch speak. I give him a side eye and go sit on an empty desk, hopefully it wasn’t that persons desk that just left right now. The teacher continues on with his lesson, im not sure what class this even is. I turn to the right of me a see this girl with light pinkish hair. All she does is smile at me and looks up to the teacher.

The bell rings, i get up from my chair and grab my bag. Before i could take a step out the classroom, someone calls for me. “Hey! You!” I turn around to see that pinkish haired girl from before. “Yeah?” I respond to her, “I’m Rei, what’s your name?” Her voice is pretty, “oh um im y/n!” I say awkwardly. Omg my voice cracked, im going to die now. “Pretty name, you’re like really pretty! You like to sing or dance?” It feels so overwhelming what she just said, my name pretty? me being pretty? “Yeah i really love singing!” I itched my neck. Great i look like a fool who doesn’t know how to talk. “That’s great! Me and my friends are trying to gain members for this music competition and id like for you to join!” She says while pulling something out of her backpack to give it to me, it’s a flyer. “See you around!” She walks off. I look down at the flyer she gave me.

Wow…the girl on the flyer is really beautiful….like really. Wait, they don’t even have what day!? I guess I’m going to have to message them. I put the flyer into my backpack and go to my next class.

The rest of the day was boring. No one interesting in my classes, rude ass teachers, and nasty lunch. Didn’t expect to the lunch to be this shit when this school is so big. So now I’m in my bed just laying down waiting for my mom to come home. I think high school will be easy, like what’s even going to happen this year? My life is boring.

see all episodes | next episode ->

[hamofjustice]

I don't want to just painstakingly copypaste my triple-layered self-QRT thread about it on Twitter and any other ones floating around but

I am very emotionally invested in seeing Penny, Arven, and (personally) especially Nemona again in the Scarlet/Violet DLC, after GF followed up the best 3 hours of Pokemon game story ever by having to abruptly cut it off the second these lonely kids finish opening up to you and say you can hang out with them anytime. Which you never do. It was some pretty painful whiplash, and I was sure the main point of the DLC was to relieve that, especially when their arcs don't seem quite complete yet. Very clever, evil marketing! But uh... well... about that...

It is very worrying that aside from a little "the story so far" montage, they have not been seen or mentioned in promotional material/footage whatsoever. Y'know, DLC for the game that's about how the real treasure was the friends you found along the way (literally, in Nemona's case), and even if your family and support systems fail you, you still have each other? Written from the heart by someone who said Arven's story is inspired by their own life? With the sappy Ed Sheeran song about reaching out for connection with others, that also seems to be named after Team Star? The game where one of the features the devs seemed most proud of was going on adventures and into boss fights with 3 of your friends? The game that ended with a fully functional and quite immersive bonding adventure with these characters you'd gotten to know and care about, that basically everyone thought was the best part of the game by a mile, and were left wishing the whole game was like that?

Yeah, I (and everyone else) have been driving around alone in that game for 8 months ever since finishing that story. 8 months of minor updates with a ton of the beloved characters functionally or literally gone, while we go around doing online stuff with nothing else to do in the world, with a single player postgame more barren than we had on Game Boy Color (thank god for mints and bottle caps though). I'm left just... wanting to go back to the way things were before I beat the game. Not to be overly dramatic, but this world I supposedly saved feels like one I failed to save. And I'm getting really frustrated. (The framerate hasn't gotten any better, either, but this isn't about that.)

It's like Game Freak (or whoever forced this thing out a year early, or both) never expected you to boot the game up again once you got bored of the Ace Academy Tournament, which the game acts like is the entire total of what you could want from being friends and "rivals for life" with your squad (I mean I'm the sicko that loves Tera Raids, so I'm not that bored, but still). It makes a bunch of implications that your adventure is just beginning, and then it totally just... isn't. Why is the E4 building closed? Why do you only rematch the gyms once? And most of all, for me personally: Why did we get access to our friends' rooms if there's nothing to do or talk about there? (Besides look for character study clues, which they have lots of)

All they could come up with when asked to write a newsletter email about what you can still do in S/V and why you should still be playing it was Raids. That was it. Remember when you had an endless challenge in the Tower/Maison that you could optionally take on with a bunch of story characters as your partners instead of alone, that motivated you to keep getting stronger bit by bit? Remember rematching gym leaders multiple times and watching their teams grow and evolve each time? Yeah, there's none of that here, because that would take more than a week to implement. If you want friends and you want battles, you'll have to do it yourself online now. They're not allocating any budget for that.

Your rival for life, who's so excited you're on her level now, who seems to have the passion and skill to be the your Battle Tower gameplay loop by herself if she wanted to, who battles you for hours offscreen with multiple teams, whose whole character arc is that she finally has someone she can do this with... is fully static, with one kinda mediocre team that never grows or changes. She can't keep up with you and doesn't know what items or EVs are. You have to get lucky to even see her at all. She is no more your rival than your Home Ec teacher is (no offense Saguaro, you're cool too). I think it's really, really sad.

I'm left nostalgic and pining to go back, having to cope through fanfic because my character can't spend the day with - or even so much as take a new trainer card photo with - the girl who said they might be her greatest treasure, without resetting my save, because she and the others are standing somewhere that the camera and internet features are both disabled.

Like, legitimately, I want to keep being friends with these kids the way we were before, and have the ability to do post-game stuff with them, like being able to go out and adventure together whenever in some basic, non-story capacity, or just, I don't know, maybe give them more than one line of dialogue in their rooms? I don't want a new region or new characters. Not yet, anyway.

I thought I was preordering the continuation of their story and rewarding the company for making me care about Pokemon so much again.

But, uh... I'm really worried that the people who own these characters do not care. And as I said on the trailer's comments before they turned them off (lol), I'll be pissed enough to not buy any more games if I'm right, and we're forced to abandon these poor kids. At the very least, it's some pretty garbage marketing to leave the possibility of that up in the air. If nothing else, that is a frustration that I'm going to keep talking about for a while, even if it ends up being fine.

I thought it was impossible, and I was being silly. Why not have our friends in cute new outfits as promo art when the DLC was first announced, and all they had was promo art? Seems like an easy slam dunk. Oh, they didn't yet? Well, I'm sure it'll happen eventually.

And then they weren't in the trailer either, months later. Are they trying to sell us on it or not?

The whole reason I want the DLCs. Still not a single word acknowledging them, just that little opening montage. Still no hints of how the DLCs have anything to do with Area Zero's ongoing story, either. How is a sea turtle linked with a landlocked crater?

So like... At this point I have to assume both DLCs start with you making your friends cry as they're left alone again, arbitrarily excluded from events they're more than qualified to be invited to, to make room for some new dweebs we don't need, who won't be given nearly enough time to be as compelling as Nemona, Arven, and Penny were, because that makes the trailer look more like a new game, and that's the only way they know how to advertise. More. New. Buy. Consume. Throw away. Buy. Consume. Throw away. I should assume this so that whatever we get can't be worse.

But they're probably not (self-aware enough / allowed / both) to write that. Your lonely / orphaned / anime-binging friends might just cheer you on for getting to go do something cool like being forced to train a new legendary because the story said so, then go back to being statues with as much relevance to your life as an NPC in a third story apartment that tells you what a hold item is.

Can't I just live in Paldea with my friends, in the version of the game we would have gotten if it was finished, instead of being pulled into these adventures for the sake of looking good in a trailer? (which it doesn't btw lol) It's not an unrealistic thing to want when that's what it briefly was, and I was so excited that it would keep being that I've been thinking about it this entire time.

...

I hope I'm wrong about all this, and next year I can look back on this post, happy that the DLC did actually allow us to continue to take care of these characters, conclude Area Zero's mysteries in a satisfying way, fix up some technical issues, let us relive some things that are currently once-only (including letting us see that photo album our character made but we had to screenshot ourselves), and make it fun to keep playing for years afterward, and let that be the model for games going forward, but uh...

They really are not showing me anything I care about in the game I desperately want to care about, that I saw - and wanted to defend - the heart in, despite the circumstances it was produced under, and that really worries and frustrates me. The surprisingly many great things about this game got my hopes up for an awesome postgame full of warm fuzzy feelings and cool things to do 8 months ago that just didn't deliver, and now, I'm not sure if they'll even let me pay for one, at this rate, because they're not advertising one.

Just throw us a scrap. If whoever's in charge here stops caring about this story, I won't care about the next one.

Anyone else feeling this?

[xarrixii]

F/B Chapter_40 : "New Friends"

CW: none this time around that I can think of

previous chapter | beginning | masterlist

/ / / / / | ---

I’ll think about it.

Urban had hesitated⸺hesitated hard. They knew what that meant. It meant No, but I don’t want to say no exactly. It meant letting Alph down slowly. It meant a long time of convincing and a lot of work.

At least he’d kept in touch.

Alph’s phone use was monitored because of one of Storm’s newcomer policies, but that didn’t mean they weren’t allowed to text their best friend random memes. Or talk about a Flash Fire update Alph had tragically missed. Storm seemed to endorse it, actually.

They had to convince Urban. Even if that meant a lot of slow guiding.

Alph opened the door to the small training room in the little base Storm had for recruitment officers and people new to Storm. Two people were sparring on the blue mat.

Of which looked ripped to shreds.

One of the people sparring was obviously the one doing most of the fighting. And damaging. Weak fire was melting down equally weak-looking ice each time it pinned the guy to the mat by the clothes.

The real difference was precision.

Alph watched from the sideline, wrapping their hands and watching melted ice pick up and reform, aiming down again with its fine point at the edge and hitting the pyrokinetic’s shirt, or pants, to get melted and thrown back into the interesting, yet still boring crossfire.

“You think you could do better?” the HY-AY called from the lowered sparring area as the pyrokinetic laid down and surrendered.

It took Alph a moment to realize that they were the one being asked. “I’m more of a close combat guy,” they said slowly. Memories of getting their shit rocked by that crazy electrokinetic fucker flashed through their brain. What’d he say his name was? Rage-bait?

“I see, they hired a coward. Afyer, is this really what your team’s been up to?”

Alph flushed. “I am not⸺”

“A coward’s words,” the one laying on the floor, Afyer, agreed.

The HY-AY raised an eyebrow as Alph finished wrapping their hands. “You even got a kinetic, coward?”

“It’s Raiden,” Alph huffed. “And⸺”

Afyer shot off the floor. “Oh, you’re Raiden! I’ve been waiting to meet you, Storm says you’re very promising and worth investing in.” He quickly climbed his way back out of the mat area and held out a hand for Alph to shake. “Salutations, my name is Afyer. Oh! Uh—he/him. And that’s Mark, he’s also new. He’s also he/him. We’re both he/him. Hi.”

Alph felt Mark staring deeply at them. “Uh, I go with they/them.”

“Brilliant. You’re, pyrokinetic, right? Amaterasu’s kid?” Not like Alph wanted to be the one that came out of their mother, but...

“Yeah.”

Mark snorted. Afyer glared at him.

Afyer leaned in, “He’s pretty good. I think you’ll both be fully integrated into Storm in a week or two.”

“You’re not very quiet,” Mark said impatiently.

“Are you sure you don’t want to spar? It could be a good opportunity.” Afyer nodded excitedly, stepping back to find his water bottle on one of the benches. “You’re legally an A-class, right?”

Mark shakes his head, as though this wasn’t surprising somehow like it normally was. “Do you just, spy on everyone’s files?”

“It’s my job to know who you are,” Afyer replies.

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“So,” Alph butts in, “Again. Close combat kind of guy. Sorry to ruin your fantasy.”

“You can summon fire with your mind, though. You can summon it anywhere you can reasonably justify using energy to. But you’re close quarters?” Mark starts deforming the shards of ice, fantastically small amounts of water retracting from each into what seemed even more fantastically small of a water canister along his belt.

This felt vaguely like an attack. “That doesn’t mean it’s logical for me to in every scenario. It’s, a lot of brainpower.”

Mark just shrugged, climbing off of the now-wrecked mat with the kind of ease Alph expected from someone who was used to uneven ground. “Whatever. You ever want to get your ass kicked, I’m in room 352.”

next chapter | masterlist

taglist: @lychhiker-writes, @madeoforgansandtissues, @fins0up

/ / / / / | ---

missing a content warning? let me know

[confuzzledcrow]

My babysitters a vampire

Benny Weir centric fic

(Featuring ‘Betty’ and Erica)

Description: Benny wasn’t sure what it was but being Betty made him feel different and he thinks he liked it.

Ships: slight one-sided Rory x Benny (Benory?)

It had been a week or so since Ethan and Benny had dressed up as Veronica and Betty. Ethan hated every moment of it. Benny will laugh along with his friends about how awful it was but he sorta enjoyed having long hair and painting his nails. Of course he only let himself enjoy these things when he was alone.

The group always hung out at Ethan’s that was just how it worked so when Erica appeared at Benny’s window in the middle of the night he let out a scream and fell backwards out of his chair. Due to the shock of having a vampire who usually won’t tolerate his existence appear at his window Benny maybe forgot about a few things. For example he forgot that on his desk beside all his potions and ingredients there was also makeup pallets, he forgot that he had some rather girly posters of boy bands and movies on his wall and the biggest give away being that he opened his window with sparkly red nails.

“Erica what are you doing, finally realised how irresistible I am?” He joked as the blonde girl climbed in the window. She let out a sigh as she pushed the boy out of her way. “Don’t flatter yourself, Betty. I came looking for a potion” She stood with her arms crossed but Benny was to caught up in what she had called him he stood with his mouth gaping for a second before rushing to explain himself. “No I wasn’t.. I don’t. Jane painted my nails! And the.. what is liking bands a crime?! I was just…” He trailed off as the girl stood looking bored. The silence was suffocating for about 2 seconds before she shrugged.

“I haven’t been able to hunt all week because I’ve been helping you losers fight monsters, I need energy I was hoping you had some sort of vampy blood energy potion?” She said picking up different bottles and shaking them, she also tested the red lipstick sitting on his desk however it made no difference since she didn’t have a reflection. He watched her walk around inspecting his room. “I uh could make you something yea?” He laughed nervously hoping that if he just agreed she’d leave. She nodded before taking a seat on his bed. “Well then go!” She demanded as she messed around with the trinkets on his bedside table. He nodded heading down to the basement using different herbs, powders and some of his own blood to work something up for her.

When he went back upstairs and was going through his wardrobe. “Erica!” He let out a shocked yelp as the girl held up a skirt. She turned eyeing up the potion in his hand, before he even realised she’d moved it was out of his hand and in her mouth. She licked her lips and smiled. She handed him back the empty bottle and turned to leave before stopping. “Reds not really your colour, go more pink” She stated lifting the red lipstick off the desk and pocketing it. Then she was gone.

The next day at school Benny was on edge, surely Erica was going to tell everyone she was going to tell Rory and he’d know that Benny was actually the girl he’d been talking to, she was going to tell Ethan and he’d think his best friend was a freak. So Benny waited, he waited all day for someone to say something for someone to call him out. But no one did. Rory spoke at lunch about Betty and how he wished he’d gotten a chance to make out with her before she left. Benny didn’t love the implications he made about wanting to bite her but he also called her pretty and angelic and it made Benny feel a little proud. Erica had glanced his way but she didn’t say anything.

Later when the group met up at Ethan’s no one seemed to notice that Benny was wearing a subtle pink lip gloss or that he had mascara on. No one noticed his dull nude nails that didn’t make him feel as pretty as pink but were less noticeable. They sat and watched tv until Rory fell asleep and Sarah followed Ethan into the kitchen to get food. “Your right hand is a mess” Erica stated not looking away from the tv, Benny looked down and his nails were a bit messier on the right because he had to do them with his left hand. “You won’t tell anyone will you?” He asked at which she finally turned to him shooting him a confused look “what that your bad at painting nails?” She smirked as Benny shook his head. “Erica I’m serious” he pleaded and maybe just maybe Erica felt something in her undead heart shift as she let out a sigh. “No I won’t tell anyone, but if you don’t want people to know you should try avoiding glitter” She stated blandly as he remembered the glittery pink lipgloss he was wearing. He nodded rubbing his mouth with his sleeve. The two once again sat in silence with only Rory’s snoring adding any noise.

“So are you a girl?” Erica asked and got the first time there was no hint of sarcasm or judgement in her voice. “I don’t… think so, I just… Betty was pretty and I liked… I don’t know” He stammered over his words not really sure how to explain that for once in his life he felt comfortable with the way he looked. Erica nodded “I’m hot, now that I’m an undead bloodsucker I’ll be hot forever. I hated old Erica I hated waking up in the morning and seeing her in the mirror” there was something unusually sincere about everything she was saying. “If you want, I am the best dressed and hottest of all your frien… people you know. So, I could help you with hair and makeup and stuff. I never really get to mess around with mine since I can’t see my reflection” She had gone back to watching tv but Benny couldn’t focus on tv right now. “Yeah that would be… yeah” He smiled and turned to watch tv as Ethan and Sarah came back.

Erica and Benny weren’t friends. But after that night it wasn’t uncommon for the two to sit in Benny’s bedroom watching dusk, listening to boy bands and messing around with their makeup. Benny sat incredibly still as Erica fixed his makeup. She had forced him to stay away from the mirror whilst she picked out his clothes and styled his wig. She finished applying the new pink lipstick she had helped him pick out before standing back to admire her work. “There, what do you think, Betty?” She asked and Benny’s heart skipped at hearing the name. He couldn’t stop the toothy grin from spreading across his face as he looked in the mirror. “I look like… wow” was all he could breathe out as the words ‘I look like me’ crossed his mind.

[deficd]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN.

respond to the prompts out of character!

what made you pick up the current muse(s) you have? oh man. uh. i guess, following my url's general meaning, i choose to write muses on here that have defied their fates/expectations in some shape or form. this is true for more of my older muses on here, as i've definitely added some recently where i have to kinda twist that a bit. aside from that, i really just write muses that i can connect with on some level. my apparent calling is sad men who are prone to violence and are also incredibly sad/lonely. the mains i have floating in my head are usually there because it's the current media i'm consuming (i.e. star wars: the old republic). i could write long metas on why i adore all of my muses though. c':

is there anything you don’t like to write? uhh, you know. i'm actually pretty open to most things. i need some sort of action going on, regardless of the type, to keep interested i suppose. like, if there's a lot of conversation, i tend to get stuck. that's just because i struggle with it and i don't want to bore my partner, though. aside from that, pretty much any genre you throw at me, i'll be interested in writing.

is there anything you really enjoy writing? I'm a sucker for redemption au's, even if it takes thirty threads to get there. i enjoy writing the aftermath of a character's worst arc, and all of the guilt, pain, and sorrow that comes with it. so do i want to write arcann's redemption? yes. do i want to write about nihilus somehow healing from being a literal wound in the force? yes. (or even, writing who he was before malachor.) ragnar going back to being a farmer? please. all of it, yes. aside from that, i really, really enjoy hurt/comfort, violent/gore threads, general sci-fi adventure, and general fantasy adventure (the campfires, the fights, the enemies in between destinations, etc.)

how do you come up with headcanons?  it's kind of a mix between being inspired by outside sources, such as media, music, mututals, and things that pop into my head after hyperfixating about a muse for three straight hours or something. i do adopt headcanons/partial headcanons from other people, but like sparingly and if it's appropriate/i know them/have asked. most of the time i really just get hit in the face with them though.

do you write in silence or do you play music? i am someone that requires music to write. i need to drown out distractions however i can. i really struggle with being easily distracted (getting tested for adhd soon lol) because i can very easily lose a thought before i'm able to write it down. i find that with music i can focus better, and i have playlists that help with whatever mood i'm going for in the reply.

do you plan your replies or wing them? i usually just sort of write what comes to mind first and then, if i have questions about something, i'll either approach the other mun or write things in the tags. sort of referring to the previous question, i try to write my ideas down as soon as i see a reply, or i'll be prone to forgetting them.

do you enjoy shipping? yes, 1000% yes. i love all sorts of relationships, not only the romantic ones. i don't really get to write about platonic/friendships too often, but i really enjoy the times i can. that said, re: romantic ships, i'm usually on board if there's chemistry between muses. i also encourage other muns to approach me if they think they might want to ship because chances are, i'm already on board.

what’s your alias/name?  Lee

age?  old

birthday?  December 25th

favorite color?  silver, purple, black

favorite song?  i... don't think i can choose? there are all sorts of songs that hit me in the right way. i can tell you a song i'm listening to on repeat right now is The Wind Weeps Eleanor by American Murder Song.

last movie you watched?  Hagazussa: A Heathen's Curse, but I hope to go see Dune 2 this week.

last show you watched?  just started Shōgun and it's wonderful.

last song you listened to?  Dwamn by Tech N9ne 🫣 

favorite food?  fry bread! or a step further: navajo tacos.

favorite season?  winter

do you have a tumblr best friend? um i think i'm close to a few people on here, but the only one i know i can tag for sure is @vuulpecula starbuck has put up with my nonsense on here for years and somehow still talks to me lmfao we have the greatest and the worst ships and honestly i am always always always excited to write with her❤️❤️❤️

and idk if i should tag u because this is an rp meme and this is one of my rp blogs but @oolathurman is my other bestie and i've known and adored them for literal years so. yeah sflkjdslf❤️❤️❤️

TAGGED BY @valorums thank you<3

TAGGING @vuulpecula @riiese @hcxcd @fasciinating @juramentum @mistrdctr / @respondedinkind @auroradicit @red-white-and-trauma @blue-eyed-banshee @helreginn @astridnorddottir @brittlefcrged and YOU!

[tsuki-chibi]

Ladynoir July 2023 Day 7: My Boyfriend vs Your Girlfriend

Read all the entries on AO3

–

“Umm… what are they doing?”

The innocently phrased question made Rena Rouge heave a deep sigh. She propped her elbows on her knees and leaned her chin on her hands, wishing that she were anywhere else other than where she was. But since there was no miraculous that granted wishes (yet), her life did not change… and so she was forced to answer Paon’s question.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure,” Rena said honestly. “They’ve been yelling at each other for the past ten minutes.”

“Actually, it’s been eleven minutes,” Carapace said, looking as bored as Rena felt.

Paon looked somewhat baffled by this. “But… why?”

“You should know by now that Ladybug and Chat Noir are not nearly as cool as the rumors say they are,” Queen Bee said dryly. She was sitting on the low wall that Rena Rouge and Carapace were leaning against. Viperion was leaning against her legs and seemed completely amused by the whole situation.

“I mean, that was kind of obvious,” Paon said. He rubbed the back of his head. “But this is…”

“I’m telling you that my boyfriend better! He can jump higher than I ever could!” Ladybug’s voice rose into an indignant shriek.

“Well, my girlfriend is almost at the point where she can fly!” Chat yelled back.

“This is some peak ‘my boyfriend vs your girlfriend’ energy,” Rena murmured, wondering if she should snap a couple of pictures. But she didn’t think that the brimming sexual tension in the air would translate well to photographs, which meant she’d just end up with pictures of Ladybug and Chat Noir looking mad and yelling at each other. Not exactly great material for the Ladyblog.

Besides, she wasn’t sure how to accurately communicate the fight – if it could be called that – in a post.

It had started off with Viperion innocently bringing a copy of the paper with him. There was a new article about Ladybug and Chat Noir in it that he’d thought they would want to see. It was immediately obvious that the writer had a thing for Ladybug, as they’d gone for several cringe-inducing paragraphs about how amazing she was and how talented she was and how beautiful she was, etc…

Chat had been a bit jealous, but openly agreed with the article.

Ladybug had made a joke about ‘her boyfriend’ being way better.

Chat had protested that ‘his girlfriend’ was the epitome of amazing.

Ladybug had defended ‘her boyfriend’ and stood behind her statement.

Chat hadn’t stood for that, and had protested even more.

And now, eleven – no, make that twelve minutes later…

“Are they really standing there arguing over which of them better? But they’re both saying the other is better?” Paon wondered, tilting his head adorably.

“Um… yeah. That’s pretty much what they’re doing,” Rena said resignedly.

“By my guess, we have about nine minutes of this before they start making out and I am not down for that,” Queen Bee said, rolling her eyes and getting up.

Rena couldn’t exactly blame her for that. Watching Ladybug and Chat Noir be super mushy had been exciting for about five minutes the first time it ever happened. Now it was usually a sign to vacate the premises before clothing came off.

“Wanna go back to the hotel and do some making out of our own?” Viperion asked, batting his eyelashes up at Queen Bee. She colored, her cheeks turning pink, but nodded. Viperion grinned and stood up too. They said their goodbyes and then left, leaving Rena, Carapace, and Paon alone.

“I thought we were going to do some training tonight,” Paon said uncertainly. “Should I ask Ladybug about it?”

“She wouldn’t hear you even if you did,” Carapace said, and he was right. Ladybug and Chat Noir were now standing about a foot apart, yelling in each other’s faces. Rena mentally recalculated Queen Bee’s overly generous estimation to be more like two minutes.

“Come on, Paon,” she said, making an executive decision. “Carapace and I will train with you for a little while. We’ll leave these two to… uh, to do whatever.”

Paon brightened a little. “Really? Cool!”

His obvious enthusiasm was a boost to Rena’s confidence. She grinned at him and stood, then pulled Carapace up as well. The three of them vacated the rooftop just as Ladybug threw herself at Chat.

[rexonalapis]

Days leading to the trial for a man that will become Wriothesley, told from the Iudex's eyes. (6k+ words)

crossposted to ao3

cowritten by @daniel-heng

tags: references to violence, child abuse, and murder.

"Should I be worried that the Iudex himself come to deal with this case?" That was the first thing he had said to Neuvillette.

To be completely honest, there was no reason for Neuvillette to be here, talking to the prime suspect himself, but there was something so puzzling about the identity of this man Neuvillette visited at the hospital at the moment. He was found near unconcious at the crime scene, his gauntlet dripped in blood of the victims, and the Gardes had decided to send him to the hospital first, and his trial would be immediately held once he recover from his injuries; the doctor predicted. Regardless, even when the evidences were stacked against him, there was no reason to restraint one of his hand to the railing of his hospital bed when he wasn't convicted of the crime just yet. What put him in this predicament was his own confession, immediately admitting to killing the victims with his own hands the second Gardes arrived at the crime scene.

Neuvillette imagined someone who appeared to have lost his mind, a maniac, and yet the person who welcomed him was just... a young man. The Iudex made a mental note not to lower his guard just yet, as the most unassuming people were proven to be capable of doing the worst kind of thing. Neuvillette knew men like this man all too well. "I see that my introduction would have been unnecessary." Neuvillette said, taking his seat on the right side of this man's bed. "I do not think there is anything to be worried about. There is no trial yet, this case is still under investigation. I am going to ask a few questions. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"I suggest you speak only the truth, for your sake."

"Okay."

Neuvillette was silent, and he stole a quick glance at the other man. How odd, he didn't even ask further and simply accepted Neuvillette's order. "First, mind telling me your name?"

The man was silent for a moment, then spoke. "Wriothesley."

A lie, but Neuvillette was going to let it slide and see when this 'Wriothesley' would finally cracked. "Okay, Mr. Wriothesley, what is your relationship with the victims?"

"I guess they were my parents."

"You guess?"

"I was adopted."

"You are aware that you are not their biological child? How long have you been aware of the truth?"

Wriothesley hummed quietly, yet quickly shrugged his shoulders like he was dismissing whatever he considered in his mind a mere seconds ago. "Do you even want to listen to the story? I'm afraid it's rather boring."

"I will be the judge of that."

"Hah, that's funny."

Neuvillette failed to understand what was so funny about what he said. He almost wanted to warn Wriothesley that this was not the time to jest, but he put that thought aside when he noticed Wriothesley gnawed on his cheek, but then chuckled. "Uh... My parents could not have a child of their own, and they just happened to have found me after being discarded by my birth parents, for whatever reason. They picked me up, realized how helpless I was even before I could realize I was being held, and rushed home to raise me in secret. But apparently my existence in their life only made things worse."

"How so?" Asked Neuvillette.

Wriothesley sighed and looked away. "I used to think it's because I'm a living proof that they couldn't have what they wanted the most. My earliest memories are of them fighting about me. I would watch from the safety of my bedroom, or sometimes from the closet where they would lock me in, as they screamed at each other. Sometimes I would hear things that made my skin crawl, like when my father would slam my mother's head into the wall so hard she would lose consciousness. Despite all of this, they kept me. I don't know why. Maybe they were desperate for something- anything- to make their lives feel normal. And so I was raised in a house of chaos, constantly under surveillance. I was always aware that I was a liability, that I could bring them down."

Neuvillette stared at Wriothesley with his mouth close as Wriothesley spoke without looking at him, choosing instead to stare blankly ahead of him while his fingers toyed with some lint on his hospital blanket. It did not make sense, Neuvillette thought. How could he call the story 'boring' when Wriothesley had willingly told Neuvillette the story of his past, a tale so devastatingly personal it was almost too much to take with a forced serenity, like it had nothing to do with him. His boundaries seemed to dissolve as he spoke, revealing a freedom that was impossible to grasp. This young man and all he was, coming from his little world and at the same time he was never more outside of himself than before. Nothing with an airtightness. His small world, Neuvillette now noticed, felt heavy.

Neuvillette mentioned the Gardes investigated the closet under the stairs of their house, filled with what appeared to be clawmarks on the door, and Wriothesley calmly explained that the marks were his doing, because his mother used to lock him there. It wasn't a good place; leaky, dirty, cold; Neuvillette imagined him shouting and banging on the door. "Sometimes I held onto the door before it's being locked from the outside and she'd threaten to slam the door on my fingers and I'll lose all of them." Neuvillette cringed at the thought of Wriothesley trapped in that dark, dingy place - clawing desperately at the splintering wood trying to escape. "My parents barely noticed me. They would shout at me, or hit me, and then quickly turn their attention to each other. Sometimes I would see the hurt in my mother's eyes when he dragged me into the closet, and I would feel like it was my fault, that I was the reason she was so unhappy. Looking back, I now think some people, you know? They just aren't supposed to be parents."

"So you think your parents consider you a mistake?" Asked Neuvillette, trying not to show any emotion.

"Maybe, I mean who knows what they thought." Wriothesley said, shaking his head. "But it doesn't make it feel any different." Wriothesley had hinted to Neuvillette that he was content not having complete knowledge of his situation. With ignorance came safety and the understanding that all questions may not have answers. At that moment, Wriothesley experienced a range of indescribable feelings; from unbearable shame to sorrow, like he'd sunk deeper into life than ever before. But as soon as these negative emotions arose, they were quickly wiped away by a wave of positivity: freedom, joy, space - it was as if an insurmountable burden had been lifted off his shoulders and hadn't weighed him down for years. He admitted that he hadn't felt like this in a long time. “Some questions are better left unasked and unanswered.”

"Do you not ever get curious?"

"Not really. I am confident that remaining in the dark regarding these matters is far preferable than getting answers. Sometimes, not knowing can be just as important as knowing; it's an essential part of being human after all, not knowing everything. I think it's human to be aware that the dark exists, but not completely unlit."

.

Neuvillette, against his own initial plan, ended up coming to the hospital every evening since that day. Wriothesley confirmed the initial report that he hadn't lived with his parents for years because he ran away as a child. For the next couple of days, he would answer Neuvillette's questions about his homelessness; what odds jobs he took to get by every day, how many times he fixed his gauntlet and where he'd learned to tinker with it. Then, on the fourth day, Neuvillette arrived later than usual, and Wriothesley was chugging some beverage from a bottle. Neuvillette's initially thought it was that infamous Fonta, but the colors seemed different. "What is that?" Neuvillette asked, taking his usual seat.

"Tea."

"In a plastic bottle?"

"They can't give me tea cup, right? What if i smash it and use the shards as weapon?"

"I have noticed that you are not lacking self awareness by any mean, but please refrain from making such threat."

"It was obviously a joke. Would you like some?"

"Tea in a plastic bottle?"

Wriothesley rolled his eyes, unbothered. "Suit yourself."

"So, you fancy tea?"

Wriothesley shrugged. "I guess. Before you arrived, the melusine that once helped me in the past came and recognized me, so she gave me this because she remembered that the last time she offered me tea, apparently, I looked like I really enjoy it the last time."

"I presume it was when you ran away from home?"

"No, she was a guest at my house and watched as my father whipped his belt against my legs until I was done boiling the water for the tea--yes, it was when I live on the street."

Neuvillette nodded, thinking that perhaps he could safely presume the conversation was going well. Neuvillette wasn't sure what was going through Wriothesley's mind, but it seemed like the more they talked, the more at ease he became. See, what originally drew Neuvillette to Wriothesley was not related to his case or his survival skills, nor was it the mixed-signals of familiarity he gave off which led many away. Despite Wriothesley’s aimless, wandering life, he had a place in this world. Neuvillette had the opposite problem—he always felt like an outsider, no matter where he stood. If he seemed rooted in one spot, it wasn’t because he was happy there; Neuvillette stayed in a constant state of withdrawal. He appeared to be stable, only because he refused to budge.

Neuvillette wanted to learn that.

Wriothesley was casually leaning back in his hospital bed, a half smile on his face and a curious glint in his eyes. Neuvillette realized he had to quickly follow up the pace of the conversation no matter how. And then, suddenly and without warning, the Iudex asked the question that he himself had been dreading. "What was on your mind? When you killed them?"

Neuvillette stayed alerted, to see if the question caught Wriothesley off guard. It was sudden and unexpected, and there was something in Neuvillette's voice that made it feel like a trap. Wriothesley did not respond, presumably because he didn't know how to answer, and the silence that followed felt oppressive. He paused for a moment, trying to think of something, anything, perhaps to stall for time. But both men realized that there was no way out of it. Wriothesley's immediate confession was what got Neuvillette coming all the way to hospital to talk to this man after all; he had killed those people and there was no turning back. He might as well tell Neuvillette what was on his mind at the time.

Usually, this was the moment someone would turn the table around and victimised themselves on the narrative, Neuvillette wondered what kind of justification to his righteous action that Wriothesley would say. "My mind was hazy when I did it, to be honest, maybe if there was anything that man ever did correctly in life, it was how to beat me up effectively. I had a few thoughts after it was over, though."

"Would you mind telling me?"

Wriothesley finished his cold tea before answering. "I was thinking about how many Gardes will be dispatched to that house. And then I thought, maybe you wouldn't be able to tell our bloods apart. It's all smell funny. My blood, theirs too in all the scuffle and confusion. To think that at its core I'm no different from them, it disgusts me."

Neuvillette was confused by Wriothesley's admission, as he'd been consistently admitting that what he did was wrong and never once said anything that'd sound like an excuse, but he withheld his response. "Did you not regret your action?"

Wriothesley shakes his head, his eyes were staring at Neuvillette, absent from deceit. "I'm going to regret it for the rest of my life, that I took lives that weren't mine. But to be perfectly honest, I don't feel sad that they're gone. Does that make any sense?"

"Barely."

"You're right, Chief Justice, maybe I am simply going crazy."

"Are you planning to plead not guilty by the reason of insanity?"

"It was a figure of—nevermind. Like I said, I was perfectly sane when I committed the crime."

Neuvillette stared at him in disbelief. There was a long moment of silence, punctuated only by the occasional noise from the hallway of the busy hospital ward. He finally broke the silence, his tone heavy with disappointment. "I would not want to prejudice your case, but I must say that I have never seen anything like this before. This also almost killed you as well."

"I know."

"You are lucky that you anyy suffered minor injury."

"I know." Wriothesley repeated, a hint of exhasperation on his repeated answer this time. "But the reason I waited for so long was also because I needed to be able to endure it better, so I won't die too. I could not die. I have to be alive to pay for my sin. After that, well, who knows."

.

Neuvillette came to visit in the morning instead the next day due to his packed schedule for the rest of the day that could not be compromised. When he arrived, the nurse was almost finished on changing his bandages. "You come again?"

"Would my presence raise any problem for you today?"

"Not really." Wriothesley glanced at the nurse, who ignored him. "Thank you." Wriothesley said quickly, knowing the nurse would immediately leave, like she couldn't wait to get out of this room as soon as possible. There was a visible disgust on the nurse's face when she turned her back against him, but quickly get a hold of her emotion when she remembered that Neuvillette was here, and he could see the kind of face she was making. Neuvillette wondered if Wriothesley was aware of it all.

Neuvillette would deal with the unprofessionalism of the staffs later. Right now, he had another matter to focus on: in the frank, unvarnished light of day, Wriothesley looked even more forlorn than before. Slim, with eyes too exhausted to hold their shroud in place - was hidden by lids that drooped at the corner and gave him an almost sleepy look, he wore a faded cotton hospital gown that hung off his frail body like a shroud. Only now did Neuvillette could really see the numerous scars that crisscrossed his skin, the weals and abrasions that marred his flesh. It was just like how Wriothesley had been beaten so often that it was impossible to make out individual bruises.

"You had bandages, too, around your wrists. When you were taken to the hospital for the first time." Neuvillette commented, referring to the report of his initial 'arrest'. Instinctively, Wriothesley wanted to raise both arms, but the clinking sound of metal hitting another metal reminded him that his left hand was still restrained. "Were you injured prior the incident?"

Wriothesley swallowed hard. He had certainly been injured, but not the way people might think, Neuvillette presumed. It was obvious that Wriothesley was used to hiding his scars from the world, wrapping them up in gauze like a present, for his sake as much as for theirs. "I'm just hiding the scars for convenience," he said softly. "People tend to be a bit nosy, if you know what I mean." Neuvillette's mind raced with questions, but he dared not voice them. Wriothesley had been so willingly sharing his story with Neuvillette that he started to worry if sooner or later, Wriothesley's patience would ran out. Neuvillette did not want to test the limits so he kept his curiousity in his mind, like a shadow following his every move, yet, somehow Wriothesley was able to read him like an open book better than the other way around. "You want to ask how I got the scars, right?" Wriothesley said as he sighed and smiled wanly.

"If it is inconvenient to you, and it does not relate to the case, you do not have to say anything."

"These are from ropes." Wriothesley answered nonchalantly as if it was the most trivial thing in the world. "When I lived with them, my father used to tie me up outside the house all night. It happened so often that the frictions left permanent scars." He said the words without emotion. It was as if he had already accepted it as fate and no longer held any bitterness against his father. Neuvillette felt a chill run up his spine. He had seen too much in this case already, and he was filled with mixed, confusing emotions regarding Wriothesley's character. On one hand, he sympathized with him and admired his resilience and strength in dealing with his trauma. On the other hand, he couldn't help but feel some concern over Wriothesley's lack of anger or resentment.

Or maybe he had always been angry, that's why he killed his parents. His bottled up emotions led him to commit such heinous crime.

"Well, in the end, this punishment was how I escaped that house. I sensed that he'd drag me outside one night so I hid a knife behind my back and freed myself after they fell asleep." Wriothesley said with an eerie calmness tinged with humor and menace. His semi-serious tone hinted at a sense of bravado. "The rain helped too." For a moment Neuvillette glimpsed a hint of wildness deep within Wriothesley's eyes, a reminder of untold fury yet unleashed.

"Rain?"

"It hid my tracks, until I was far enough for them to care." Wriothesley said. Suddenly, he remembered something related to the rain and asked Neuvillette, "Chief Justice, do you know the legend about Hydro dragon?"

"No, what about it?" How he lied like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Oh, nothing, it's just silly story that only children believe. It is said that whenever it rains in Fontaine, it's actually because Hydro dragon is crying."

"I do not think that is the most realistic explanation for a mere natural weather change."

"Geez, Chief Justice," Wriothesley said, disapproval in his voice, although Neuvillette didn't know if he meant it or not. "You'll make a child really weep if they hear you debunk the legend that coldly."

Neuvillette let out a small chuckle, despite himself. "Very well, I shall keep my opinion to myself," he said. "Did you--used to believe that as well, Mr. Wriothesley?" Neuvillette asked carefully, hoping that Wriothesley didn't notice how personal this question really was for Neuvillette.

Wriothesley paused for a moment, as if to contemplate his answer, before finally speaking. "A little," he said, his voice soft. "I was a child once, too, you know, despite everything. That night when I escaped, I thought, what caused great sadness for the Hydro dragon at that time? I can't seem to recall that I have any more ability to cry myself, so out of my own selfishness, I used to imagine that the Hydro dragon cried on my behalf. I was clinging to the hopeless wish that someone, something out there, still cared for me." Wriothesley's face remained unchanging, a smile playing at his lips, as if he found his younger self naive and foolish but the amusement didn't reach his eyes. "But yeah, then I grew up and realized whoa woe that's all bull. End of story."

"I think... If there was any sliver of truth to that legend, the Hydro dragon would not forget your sorrow, even if you only shed tears once."

Wriothesley shifted in his bed, his firm frame casual despite the gravity of the subject at hand. "You don't have to humour me, like I said, I used to, Chief Justice. I was scarcely more than a boy when I first heard the legend, and I remember wondering why it seemed so important to so many people."

"And now?"

"Now I am willing to admit that it is likely nothing more than a children's story, something to make the rain in Fontaine seem more special. But that does not diminish the effect it has had on me or the impression it has left on my young mind." Wriothesley folded his free hand in his lap and regarded Neuvillette with an air of patience that was beginning to wear thin.

"I can see that you are dangerously close to becoming a confirmed skeptic." Neuvillette gave a faint smile.

"I am not so easily dissuaded."

The more Neuvillette listened to Wriothesley, the more he recognized a void was missing from his backstory. He sensed an emotional pain and embarrassment in Wriothesley - like a crawfish whose armor had been torn off and forced to display itself for mockery and humiliation. He admitted that this situation was of his own making; he should have foreseen that the glory of his confession would not last. The mood between them grew tense as darkness descended on their conversation, yet Neuvillette found solace in the irony of it all and how they'd drawn together in their shared disdain for the shallow world around them. Wriothesley, on the other hand, couldn’t understand why he continued to retell this narrative time after time, each version flawed with its own imperfections.

"Fortress of Meropide is not an easy place to live in."

"Why are we suddenly talking about that?"

"If you are declared guilty--"

"--when I am declared guilty," Wriothesley had said the words matter-of-factly, like they weren't particularly shocking. He must have been used to it by now. Lifelong practice, Neuvillette supposed. But even so, the words still felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

"You will have to spend years there. By the time you are out, you will be twice the age you are today or even more."

At this, Wriothesley had stared at him, his usually unbothered expression turning somber. Neuvillette could almost feel the weight of the situation pressing down on them, the reality of what was to come sharpening like a blade in the air. "Chief Justice," Wriothesley said, it was the most serious he'd ever been. "What's your point?"

The air in the room was suddenly thick as stacked bricks, pressing against both men as they stood their ground. For the first time Wriothesley saw Neuvillette not as someone he had a chat with, suddenly Wriothesley saw Neuvillette like the rest of Fontaine saw him: a man renowned for his formidable reputation in the court of law. He spoke slowly and carefully. "You denied attorney, and you have not made any single attempt to do anything that might help your case.I am not sure if you are aware of this, but you are charged with first-degree murder. I am obliged to consider all possible defenses, and I am sure that you will understand if I am forced to explore the possibility that you were in a state of self-defense at the time of the crime."

"To be honest, I don't think trial would be necessary, isn't it? I mean, isn't trials reserved for people who want to appeal against the charge?"

"It is not that simple, we must proceed everything through trials. Perhaps, are you secretly considering to request for a duel later?"

"Against that new Champion Duelist? No, thanks. I'd rather not die early." Wriothesley scoffed and shook his head. "Like I said, I have to live."

.

Many years ago, Neuvillette had met someone whom Wriothesley reminded him of. His memory of it faded now, just as a dream did after waking, yet he remembered feelings… colorful feeling that were hard to reproduce during waking hours or even while sleeping at night. It felt as though the moment could never end, a surreal interlude in which Neuvillette believed that their life had been set in the perfect key and spoken in the perfect language. The words Wriothesley spoke were almost too familiar; like he had said them so often in the past, yet they still held some tinge of meaning to break the silence. His expression was often strained, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes, like he was laughing at himself, at Neuvillette, and at life itself for making conversation like this so awkward. It felt intimate, as if their friendship had been briefly forgotten only to be rediscovered again.

Seeing this young man in front of him brought back those memories and emotions with such clarity that he felt saddened knowing that the next moment they would be gone. It would be gone tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd read Wriothesley's sentence. Tomorrow, it'd be Neuvillette's words that would drag him into exile.

"This concludes our conversation. Your trial will be held tomorrow morning."

"I reckon you're a busy man, so I have to thank you for sparing a little of your precious time for someone like me."

Neuvillette bristled at his presumption but couldn't help but feel flattered by Wriothesley's words. It had been many years since he had felt... happiness--no, the un-loneliness, for some reason or another, and yet a sense of melancholy lingered in him, as if always waiting to be drawn out. Even now he couldn't seem to allow himself to feel it more than once without feeling hollow afterwards, like it had been sucked from deeper under his heart and soul. "That will not be necessary, I did this on my—"

"—it's almost like you came here to talk to me every day, purely out of the kindness of your heart, Monsieur Neuvillette."

Neuvillette seemed unaware of the insult, of being confronted by Wriothesley who confirmed that he knew Neuvillette was here for his own selfish personal curiousity. Perhaps Neuvillette simply chose to ignore it. Although he refrained from pressing his point, Wriothesley's insights on the human condition were unsettling. Without knowing who Neuvillette truly was, he had this uncanny ability to see into other people with such accuracy. "You are a strange fellow." He said instead. "All you did was telling the truth as it is without parapraxis and yet the first thing you said to me was a complete lie."

"Is this the part where I asked what it is?"

"Your name."

"It is not completely a lie, depending on your perspective." Wriothesley scratched the back of his head casually. "I believe it to be my name now. Isn't that enough? Monsieur Nobody-Knows-My-Given-Name Neuvillette?"

Neuvillette pretended that Wriothesley didn't just hit him back with his own logic. "How long have you been aware that I did not come here to deal with your case?" Neuvillette asked. Wriothesley, looking exhausted, ran his hands over his face. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then he seemed to think better of it and shrugged instead. The beginning, then, Wriothesley didn't want to say.

Neuvillette felt a burning sensation at his core, threatening to consume him if he let it. His spirit yearned to break free and leap into an alternate reality, one that could only be accessed through stories. If he dared to let go of the tethers that kept him grounded in this world, he would fall into the story after the curtain had risen, arriving too late to understand why he was there, yet unable to leave without understanding the truth. The emptiness inside him resonated like a low hum, demanding to be filled with something he couldn't name. Neuvillette's eyes snapped shut and Wriothesley's face was the first thing in his mind. He was captivatingly intriguing. Not because of his knowledge, words, or habits, but rather for how he twisted and interpreted things with an underlying cynical snicker. With a single glance, one could never tell if he was smooth as velvet or rough as sandpaper. Yet it was precisely this smart kind of enigmatic charm that made him so alluring. But then again, could someone less intelligent make life easier or harder?

Intelligence wasn't always connected to kindness and understanding; Wriothesley's intelligence couldn't be further from it. He was a critical thinker whose judgements were cut-and-dry; linear, logical, and shrewdly observant. "Do you not have any dream?" The thought came to him like a wave, crashing against his consciousness with an incredible force. The words left his lips freely and unbidden, yet they felt as though they'd been penned over centuries of solitude. When he looked up again, their eyes met in understanding, the something that was said without being spoken louder than any sound. "Why won't you use this opportunity to gain sympathy? Most people would have done so."

"Of course I do have dream, but I have to deal with the consequence of my action first--Monsieur Neuvillette, are you perhaps seeking clemency for me?" Wriothesley responded, but he was completely unmoved by the conversation. The only emotion he'd felt in years had been down deep in his dermis, and it had created a barrier around his heart. Later, Neuvillette would realize just how much effort this conversation took and feel relieved when he was unable to interpret Wriothesley's cues. This man felt with a dual heart; it was a muted organ that gave off an iron scent. It changed colors with its emotions. "It would have been pointless. You only cared about confirming your preconceptions, not about acquiring accurate knowledge. I'm telling you, I am guilty. Wouldn't this make your job easier tomorrow? So we can get over it as soon as possible? Why are you, of all people, trying to make sense of my wrongdoing?"

There was something savage and cruel in Wriothesley's question, as though he was striking back at something Neuvillette said that had offended him. But it also seemed that all he wanted was to expose Neuvillette, to expose him for the sheer, perverse pleasure of doing so. His words were a straight indictment of everything Neuvillette was; they made him feel like a slithery trickster who should be punished for beating around the bush when he'd already been warned to stay off the grass. And yet Neuvillette knew he was right. Wriothesley had seen through him and zeroed in on the one thing he feared most: the awkwardness that sprang up between them each time he looked him in the eye and made it so difficult to speak to him or find the courage not to deny that awkwardness did indeed exist between them.

But Neuvillette might have overestimated it. Or maybe he knew what Wriothesley was saying. No one knew. This conversation didn't last long enough for either one of them to find out.

Wriothesley looked straight ahead, unable to leave the bed with one hand handcuffed to the hospital bed, and yet he filled the space, strangely enough was out of scale, larger than life. Approximate yet unstable; loomed up; expanded. Only much, much later, too late, did Neuvillette understand how small Wriothesley was to himself. "You don't have to answer that. Whatever it is, I'll be fine. I was wondering what did you even gain from talking to someone like me but--"

"But?"

Wriothesley sighed, "I don't want to remind myself not to get involved with someone like you, not yet at least, because truthfully, I'm having such a good time."

"When shall I remind you, then?"

"Nah, you are the symbol of law in Fontaine, are you not? You should not be associated with someone like me on the first place."

Neuvillette's inscrutable face turned to Wriothesley with a cold stare. "I am confident that I am quite decent judge of character." he said again, after sizing up his intentionally blank gaze that hadn’t fooled Wriothesley.

"Hah, there you go again with that joke." Neuvillette still didn't understand what was so funny about what he said, but Wriothesley didn't laugh nonetheless. It reminded him that Wriothesley's convoluted nature made it impossible to predict his next words or to try and put up resistance against someone who had the power to convince Neuvillette of their integrity in a matter of moments. But, this same quality that gave Wriothesley the capacity for kindness and openness was also what made him so dangerous. The reminder of this duality was always looming overhead.

"I don't know if you think I'm a good guy who made one terrible choice or whatnot, I just want to live, that's all." The atmosphere was electric with suppressed emotion, both of them wrestling with feelings that they had never put a name to. Wriothesley finally spoke again, and Neuvillette recognized how his voice trembling from the effort of forming the words. It reminded Neuvillette of a small, yet obvious fact that he seemed to had been completely forgotten about Wriothesley: this man was still so young. “Sometimes I think I'm too far gone,” he rasped out, barely above a whisper. “When I tell people this, it only convinces them more that I could be saved - and the more they try to save me, the harder I push away. And then the guilt comes crashing down. No matter how hard I may try to be kind for a few moments, it's like everyone can see right through me and know that it won't last. So in the end, all that's left is my own self-loathing and their disappointment.”

“That is twisted,” Neuvillette uttered in a low voice. “I will not question why you are expressing your thoughts to me, though.”

“Perhaps my hell is having to say all and not knowing if I should be quiet instead,” he murmured. “And yours, unless I'm all wrong, is to listen and not know whether I mean it.” He looked up at Neuvillette with something akin to fear in his eyes. Neuvillette's face, on the other hand, was drawn but he stared unflinchingly at him as he spoke, almost as if he was trying to unravel Wriothesley's tortured thoughts by sheer force of will.

The silence stretched out between them for a long beat before he finally nodded slowly. They both knew what it meant - they were in this together, but together had its limits. The full weight of Wriothesley's words settled over them and they only moved when they realized that no further explanation would follow. With a single solemn nod Neuvillett confirmed his understanding of what Wriothesley was implying - whatever lay beyond this momentous conversation, they were both aware of where their respective boundaries lay.

.

Wriothesley had used the exact same narrative during his trial, almost verbatim, to confess. Neuvillette remained silent most of the time, as he practically did most of the work for the trial that Lady Furina left the premise sensing how uncomfortably quick this trial was.He left no room for rebuttal, for all the wrong reason, and what was Lady Furina supposed to do? Say that there was a chance that Wriothesley hadn't done anything wrong in the face of law and order? How antithesis. She would've been rendered speechless had she stayed a bit longer to see the audiences started to push a preposition that Wriothesley was forced to kill his adoptive parents because of self defense. After all, this trial was during the height of very heated debates among citizens about the mistreatment of orphans around Fontaine.

Wriothesley didn't bother, and the trial ended with Neuvillette reading his guilty verdict. Neither of them spoken another word after that.

As Neuvillette watched Wriothesley descended to Fortress of Meropide, he thought about their conversation again. Neuvillette thought, all his life, Wriothesley had worked from the wound. Child that was both healing and a cut. Place of lost and found. He once thought he had to sever some part of himself to let what he could've become go, yet he had felt the wound ever since. He had been surrounded by people who were such mix of truth and fraud. They invented many bad adults for him; fallen men, addicts, melancholics, chasers. It was the stories of disguise and of naming and knowing that interest him. How were you recognised. How did you recognise yourself. Wounding seemed to be a clue or a key to being human, Neuvillette learned. There was value here as well as agony. Flung out, there was always the return, the reckoning, the revenge, perhaps the reconciliation.

Wriothesley, he believed, was working from the blood-trail wound. Towards the people who come on to him with friction. Chafing started intimacy; and strife, like spite, was the shortest distance to the heart, and Neuvillette thought, here Wriothesley was: lost and found.

[huntershowl-moving]

drabble 002: blackbird.

she was hidden behind a mirror.

light refracted off of its polished surface and showed persephone her own face, gaunt and pale from the lack of a sun. black hair coiled into smoke around her chin. she kept it cut short – it stayed out of the way when she tucked it behind her ears. moreso, leto said it looked professional, and amari fletch had finally assigned persephone a long-term job for the unseen. a chance to prove herself. years of rebellion had transformed into a fairly solid, if bitter, loyalty to fletch. say what you will about them, but they take care of their own. fletch had personally guided every step of the recovery process after ripping persephone's arms from her. they had taught her how to shoot, how to write, how to pick up a fork with the new ones. they had kept her comfortable in their manor, attended to their every need, trained them every day, deftly dancing around her with their ever-changing array of weapons. all of this from the leader of an international crime syndicate – they'd taken the time out of their year to build back up what they'd broken in two. now, fletch was her compass.  it was described to her as a protection gig. persephone would be the personal bodyguard for a voidblooded noblewoman for an indeterminate length of time. she wasn’t told why the girl needed protection, only that her parents were allies of the unseen and so the job would be done to the best of their ability. “i don’t... like killing people,” she told orion while he cut her hair for her first day.

“you still might have to kill people,” orion retorted, ruffling persephone’s hair to fluff it out once he finished.

“sure. but it’s to keep someone safe. and i don’t have to kill them.”

“you’re not gonna be able to avoid murder if that’s what fletch wants you to do.” 

“yeah, but—”

“just... be careful,” orion said, his hands pausing on her shoulders, carefully avoiding the vast expanse of gnarled scarring across the collarbones and scapulae. “please. i love you too much to watch them hurt you again.”

––––––––––––––––––

now, she stood in front of a large, wide mirror in the noble’s sitting room, one hand resting on her rifle as she perused the books on the surrounding shelves. old books. artifacts, classics, trophiesfor the astute literary collector. the walls were decorated with surrealist landscape paintings. but there was no woman to be found – no bedroom, either, despite the parents’ insistence that this was the right door. 

“you’re a criminal, aren’t you?” the voice came from somewhere behind the mirror, soft and melodic with a touch of hesitance. persephone looked up towards the reflection with a furrowed brow.

“i am,” she replied.

“what kind?” 

“hitman.” persephone had never been the type to mince words.

“do you enjoy it?” the voice drifted from the right side of the mirror to somewhere further left.

“no.” 

“hmm.” a pause. “if you wanted to kill me right now, how would you do it?”

persephone blinked, rendered speechless in shock. the voice sighed – “what? i'm curious. being locked up in here is a complete bore. come on. be honest.” 

“uh...” she began to reply, but hesitance gripped at her throat. “i don’t know. you don’t have any windows up here, so i couldn’t shoot you. smash through the mirror and use a knife to slit your throat, if we’re going with effectiveness. find whatever mechanism opens it and sneak in, if i wanted to be quiet. slit your throat, again, or snap your neck — depending on how hard you fight.”

there was silence for a moment, then the sound of footsteps and a soft thump. like someone was sitting down. 

“alright. you are hired.”

“w –” persephone stepped toward the mirror, plopping down in an armchair propped up across from it. “i was already hired. your parents –”

“ – have tried to get a protection detail on me for months. i’ve sent away everyone else.” 

“then...” another pause, as one carbon fiber hand moved to rub at the back of her neck. “why are you keeping me on?”

silence, for a few moments.

“call it a hunch?”

––––––––––––––––––

it took several weeks for the girl – aya – to pull the mirror down and show persephone her true self. short and plump in stature, she had a bob of feathery black hair and an inquisitive gaze. moles dotted her face and her arms where her somewhat-archaic sense of fashion left them exposed. most striking, however, was the pair of giant, ravenlike wingsjutting out from her shoulder blades.  inky hell. no wonder she needed protection.  the feathers were dark and iridescent, obviously sourced from the void just like the smoke coming off of persephone’s hair. suddenly, looking at this radiant woman, every flaw upon their own face and body felt prominent – their bony stature, unusual height, the gnarled scars along their torso where flesh met prosthesis. at her invitation, persephone vaulted through the mirror into aya’s brightly-lit bedroom. six false windows shone with bright, warm light from some built-in mechanism in the walls, each decorated with a lifelike depiction of a sprawling coastal landscape. aya stepped deftly around her. the wings made a soft shuffling noise as their tips dragged along the hardwood floor. above them stretched an unusually high ceiling, the walls closer to it jutting with decorated platforms — persephone imagined aya taking a leap and gliding between them, those magnificent wings spread nearly from wall to wall. a brief smirk flickered across her stoic face. “make yourself at home, bodyguard,” the girl said as she neatened the writing materials on her desk.

“this room...”

“yes, i know. this is the closest i can come to being happy without going outside.”

“you–” persephone’s words stopped, pale eyes darting from the ceiling light back to aya’s face. “you’ve never gone outside?” 

“not even once. my parents are well-known among the city’s nobility. if people knew they had a voidling daughter, it would hurt their status.” the words sounded too flat. like they had been rehearsed time after time. the isolation aya must have felt all these years... the frustration, the pent-up anger, persephone could only imagine. what a living nightmare. 

“i’m sorry.”

“oh, it isn’t so bad. i have my parents... my imagination. and a lot of hope! i want to see the sun for myself one day, not simply feel its light through the windows.”  ah. her parents hadn’t had the heart to tell her that the sun was shattered, then. that meant they had no plans of ever letting their daughter outside. fucking fuck. aya would later claim that she had fallen for persephone first. the assassin did not agree. neither of them could put an exact date on their feelings, but it was somewhere around that first month, even before aya had revealed herself. she made the first move, of course – persephone had always been hesitant with affection, fearing backlash and second-guessing themself. it became obvious over time that she would not initiate. it was a winter night. the city had fallen silent, even the dockworkers sheltering from the cold. snow collected on the manor’s roof and drifted outside of walls without windows, melting into gray slush on duskwall’s sooty streets. persephone stood guard by the mirror-wall while aya pressed snowdrop flowers they'd brought her, wings splayed out behind her body. a small smile played at the corners of the bodyguard’s lips at the sight. somehow, in the heart of this rotted city, innocence had been preserved within one beautiful girl. aya caught her staring. dark eyes glanced over, stopped, held persephone's as a flush bloomed across their cheeks. “what are you looking at?” “what do you think, feathers?” it was an affectionate, teasing nickname; persephone found herself using it more often than even aya's name. they'd always been like that — it came with the territory of having a complicated relationship with one's own feelings. distance was key as an assassin. you wanted to stay unbothered, to be able to dehumanize targets and turn off your empathy. so: nicknames. aya narrowed her eyes, her peach-round face scrunching up a bit. then, she seemed to get an idea. never having learned to put on a social persona, her emotions danced across her face with reckless abandon. persephone could always tell what she was feeling, what she was thinking about, even after only a month together.  “hmm." a low hum from aya’s throat as she stood. her wings shifted back into a folded position at her back (inky feathers always littered the floor, bed, and surfaces of the room. aya did her best to clean them up, but the wings never seemed to stop shedding. the more the merrier, in persephone’s eyes. they looked like jewels.) false sunlight haloed aya’s hair as she sauntered up to her guard. persephone’s heart beginning to flutter in her chest in a way it never had before — like it was trying to break loose. 

“noooothing?” aya teased, voice like honey, breath tickling persephone’s yet-unscarred neck.

“i –”

“i’ll ask you again.” she was giggling between words now, but still there was a fire in her eyes as she gently tugged persephone’s collar to bring them down towards her face. mouth at the guard’s ear, she whispered, “what were you looking at?” 

the word left persephone’s lips, quiet and breathy. “you.” a beat —"aya." no sooner did she murmur the name than aya’s lips closed around hers.

that moment lingers in her mind now, a little piece of gold embedded in her heart to call upon when hellhound threatens to choke the spark from her soul completely.

persephone's hair was unusual in more than one way. she would wake up after nightmares or flashbacks and it would have grown to her shoulders, sometimes halfway down her back after a particularly stressful night. aya took up orion's mantle of cutting it. she liked the way the strands dissolved into smoke between her fingers once she snipped them loose, and persephone liked the way aya’s hands felt brushing against the back of her neck. for their part, they'd run their fingers through the girl’s wings until they both fell asleep. aya would braid tiny feathers into persephone’s hair, fastening it with pins as the strands were too slippery to hold a ribbon. 

–––––––––––––––––– late winter, now. the girls sat together on the bed. persephone lay across aya’s lap as she polished her knife – she only carried one, back then, as fear did not delegate her every move. aya's jasmine perfume enveloped them both in gentle sweetness. it had grown to become a comforting smell; aya wore it all the time. it was uniquely hers. a scent that, like the sight of black feathers, persephone would always associate with better times.  aya hummed, as if she’d suddenly had a thought. her hand moved to the tail of persephone’s coat, flipping it so that the inside showed. “would you mind terribly,” she asked, “if i made an alteration to your coat, love?”  “i wouldn’t,” persephone responded, running a hand down the thick curves and folds of aya’s waist. “what trick do you have up your sleeve, feathers?”

“it’s a surprise. give me two days.” 

“you’d better not make it a vest or give me a chest window.”

“no promises, darling. i would die to see you with a chest window.” aya would toil away in her bedroom for the next two days while persephone stood guard in the library just outside. what a whirlwind of a half-year it had been. love. a love that felt so warm she was certain it was keeping her alive. orion's love was different – the love of her brother was like a pillar of strength. they leaned on each other. they helped each other up when they fell. fletch's love was a complete consumption, a collar and a leash. the love of their parents had been a cold ache, battling with the knowledge that they could do such awful things to their children in its name. every bruise that bloomed across orion's arms, every cut across his tiny cheek that she should have been too young to know how to patch up. “we love you,” their mother had said, and the words had felt like a lie. but feathers – aya – had persephone’s heart in her hands. she held it as gently as one would a baby bird. with orion, persephone was content. with aya, for what felt like the first time in her life, she was happy. 

the alteration aya had worked so hard on was a set of embroidered crocus flowers stitched into the coattails’ lining. the work was meticulous. she’d always had an eye for detail. purple and green and gold thread, every line a work of art in itself. persephone sat hard on the foot of the bed with the coat in her lap, eyes wide, wishing she could feel the flowers’ ridges as her prosthetic fingers brushed over their surface.

“aya –” 

“mm... i love when you say my name.” aya sat beside her, leaned against their shoulder. 

persephone raised her eyebrows with a dry smirk. “feathers.” the rollback earned the pout she wanted to see, before she leaned down to press a chaste kiss to aya’s lips. “i love it, aya. thank you.” it wasn’t often she caught the little bird off-guard. those rare moments were all the more precious; persephone burned aya’s blush into her mind, took in every detail of her face. the two moles dotting the left side and the dark pools of her eyes. the way her short hair hung in sheafs around her ears like bundles of black grain, thick and shiny.

“don’t look at me like that.”

“like what?”

“like you want to eat me.”

persephone bared her teeth, sunk them ever-gently into the soft skin of aya's shoulder. both of them collapsed into giggles, then kisses; eventually, deep and tangled slumber. 

––––––––––––––––––

“you’re meeting them at the opera?” orion asked, head craned over the sink as he worked dye through his hair. he had been dumped again. her twin went through boyfriends like a gambler went through cash; he was noncommittal and unlucky to boot. persephone was sliding into a tailored black suit with cufflinks provided by fletch themself: wolf heads, snarling, open-jawed. looking back, it was a message she hadn't seen. barreling toward the goddamn iceberg but too busy staring up at the stars to notice it. fletch's important meetings with persephone often took place often at the city’s most luxurious venues. this time, they sat in balcony seats at the opera, discussing the progress of the job in between numbers.  “you are doing so well, persephone.” they spoke without looking at her. their left arm was folded primly in their lap. the right brought a pair of binoculars down from their face to rest on their knee.  “thank you,” she replied, a little flutter of pride erupting in her chest. a job well done. a lover waiting at home. home –– the word felt alien. exciting. it was the kind of word most people took for granted, until they were ejected from every place they attempted to settle into. eventually, there was no such thing. but now... perhaps there could be. “... the job has changed.”  persephone tilted her head up to meet fletch's gaze, their molten-silver eyes boring into hers with a perfectly unreadable expression. changed? after everything, after her pain of their punishment and the loyalty built up during recovery, persephone dare not question them. if they told her to fling herself off of a balcony, she would be confident that they would take care of her until she was healed. they would not let her die after spending so much time and money reconstructing her into a better fighter. at the same time, if she did rebel, orion was within their reach. they could hurt him, kill him, or worse at any time. “what's the new job?” whatever it was, persephone could still visit aya as frequently as time allowed. even if fletch sent her to skovlan or severos across the sea. she would come back; they had nothing but time. 

“oh – it is the same target. the job has changed from protection to assassination.” 

“i’m sorry?”

the world dropped beneath her feet.

“do not make me repeat myself, persephone. you have twenty-four hours to take care of her.” the opera was over. fletch was already standing, rosy yellow lights gleaming off of the armored pauldron sitting atop their right arm. persephone did not stand. assassination. that was not misheard. take care of her. the same target. assassination. the job. take care of her. they knew what that meant: kill her.   a cold hand on her shoulder broke persephone out of her reverie with a flinch, but the spasm did not make the touch any gentler. fletch's fingertips pressed into the area where flesh and metal came together, pressed against the scars and the nerves that had been too badly damaged to heal. they did not stop until she gasped. take care of her.   “ah, and be sure to deal with the family afterwards. frame it to keep eyes off of the unseen. make it quiet. mr. shimura will pick you up in a carriage at exactly this time tomorrow, persephone.” their words, flippant and light, rolled off of their tongue as they exited their row.

–––––––––––––––––– aya could tell something was wrong the moment persephone walked through her door. their mind was a million miles away, eyes locked in a thousand-yard stare. eyebrows knitting together, aya worried at her lip.  “how was your meeting?” she asked, soft hands moving to pull persephone’s coat off of her shoulders. the cold had fluffed her wings up to twice their size. even now she was beautiful. even in her idle moments, when she had not yet started her hygienic routine, everything – everything was beautiful. it was a special kind of fate that befell people like them. people who were born, kicked in the teeth repeatedly, and then died. some were born hopeful; that was when it hurt to watch them be torn apart. persephone did not respond. she was too busy going through every possible scenario in her mind: betray her loyalty to fletch for aya, and they would undoubtedly be angrier than they were when the twins tried to leave. all three of them would end up dead or worse. fletch would make sure aya died slowly. they would make sure persephone watched. then, they would turn to orion.  even beyond the consequences, something in persephone had broken when fletch took their inhuman strength to her shoulders and tore her limbs from their sockets. something had broken and healed wrong; their hands were still buried deep in her chest, wrapped around her heart from the inside. she didn’t know what she wanted. she didn’t know how to rebel anymore. it had to be done. it had to be done or the world would come crashing around her feet. “aya,” they whispered, voice breaking halfway through the word. their arms found their lover’s shoulders, pulled her closer. aya. blackbird. 

“darling –” her voice was muffled in persephone’s chest, wings and shoulders wiggling in her grip to try and break it. "what are—"

“please. please, just—stay with me like this.”

aya looked up at her, wide eyes searching her face and finding nothing to latch onto. “... alright.”  something seemed to click in aya’s head then. she stopped asking. there was a look on her face that shifted between acceptance and a haunting sort of emptiness; she knew, persephone had no idea how she knew but she did. aya had always been smart, perceptive. she could read people like no one’s business. every passing hour felt like sand slipping through their fingers on that last day. persephone hovered around her lover relentlessly, grooming her wings, pulling her into her lap, pressing kisses to every part of her face and body. soaking in the smell of jasmine and letting her lips feel the softness of aya’s skin where her hands couldn’t. they carefully avoided the subject of what was wrong and instead made the most of every second, every breath. it felt like a dream. so many nights, now, are spent reliving that last day. hellhound listens to the heartbeat of a ghost and tries to recall what it felt like to kiss her. all that’s left is a single black feather adhered into a page of her notebook, cast over in resin so that the edges will never begin to disintegrate. the very same tattooed up the back of her neck, out of place among the rest. all that’s left is a phantom in hellhound’s subconscious, who appears to draw her out of dark places and keep her from being swallowed whole. all that’s left is memory.

–––––––––––––––––– they stood in front of aya’s favorite false window. persephone was behind her, gaze fixed on the scene in front of them. its artificial sunlight swathed them in peachy gold, a forest melting into a beach with trees stretching high into the sky. the light source was structured in such a way that it looked like it was filtering through the treetops, dappling the girls’ skin and catching on their clothes and hair like spun stars. aya would die without knowing the world was dark. that, if anything, was a mercy. sluggishly, persephone slid the knife she’d had since she was a child out of its holster on her thigh, gripped it with a hand that, were it made of flesh, would be trembling too violently to function. void knew the rest of her body was. “i can hear your heartbeat.” aya’s voice came soft, head turning the smallest bit so that persephone could see the hint of her eyelashes haloed by light. they were slick with tears. “it’s okay, love,” aya whispered. “it’s okay.” persephone didn’t even need to apologize, and aya had already forgiven her. there was nothing crueler than this. nothing crueler than the steady way the girl drew her last breath before the blade cut across her throat. nothing crueler than the way she gripped persephone’s other hand in hers, the quivering of her fingers the only betrayal to the fear she was trying so hard not to show. they were both pretending to be stronger than they were, it turned out. persephone gripped aya’s bleeding, twitching body as she collapsed to the floor, their throat choking on quiet, wracking sobs. they held her through it, kissed her forehead, rocked back and forth. sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed. it wasn’t supposed to be like this. it wasn’t supposed to end this way. it wasn’t supposed to end this way. it wasn’t supposed to end this way. it wasn’t supposed to end this way. it wasn’t supposed to