#the hands are kinda scuffed but I’m not working on this any longer than I already have.

[tainebot01]

Happy Halloween Everybody! In honor of International Spooky Day, I've decided to draw the only GF character that genuinely managed to actually scare the living daylights out of me. This is not an exaggeration - this guy made Child Me feel real fear.

[stellocchia]

I think it's been more than two months since I pushed my "Wilbur is remembered far more competent than he is" agenda in your asks.

So let's rectify that, shall we?

Wilbur is pretty fucking incompetent. He's never been that amazing charismatic smooth talker we characterize him as (not that I'm not absolutely behind that too)

Like. Who did he ever successfully smoothtalk? The Lmanbergians? None of them were ever hesitant to join from the very beginning and Eret betrayed them pretty easily when Dream manipulated them.

Techno? Techno wanted to join them, he was the one who reached out to them. There was no convincing needed and Wilbur never convinces Techno of anything Techno wasn't already willing to do by himself.

Dream? Definitely not during the revolution and Dream's support during Pogtopia was Dream following his own agenda, not being influenced by Wilbur in any way.

He couldn't even get Quackity to let him into Las Nevadas.

Nah, the only person Wilbur ever smooth talked is TommyInnit. The fucking powerhouse of this cell. And even that's not completely true. Tommy hasn't been convinced by Wilbur of anything since the very beginning of the Lmanberg revolution. Not during Pogtopia. And not even now (it's not smooth talking if it's just exploiting mental exhaustion and trauma and all that. Tommy isn't convinced of what they're doing.)

Really. Not even Tommy, per se.

He just got Tommy extremely loyal and attached to him.

And honestly, that's all he needs.

You don't need to have influence over everyone, you just need to have strong influence over the right person.

And that's what Wilbur had and has.

Wilbur's accomplishments are just pretty much him having a vision and Tommy throwing himself at it to make it come true.

Wilbur had the idea for L'manberg but Tommy was the one leading the troops. Tommy was the one who negotiated for their independence and got it when Wilbur was negotiating their surrender. Tommy was the one who FOR NO REASON built the escape tunnel they escaped through when Dream blew up L'manberg and he was the one who built the lil panic room at the end. Tommy was the one who's home became the embassy to L'manberg (something Wilbur very much pressured and kinda manipulated him into btw. I'm never not gonna mention that lil detail when the embassy comes up)

Wilbur had the idea and stood around looking pretty. My guy literally stood around looking pretty, without armor, during battles. Just. I love him.

And let's not forget that Tommy was fckin great at being the general. The SMP was so much better equipped and still, L'manberg was kinda winning. To the extend that Dream saw the need for TnT (which was hidden) and the betrayal through Eret (which was hidden)

Dream felt the need to pull two deceitful moves to keep if not even gain the upper hand.

If I'm not mixing stuff up here, correct me if I'm wrong.

And stuff like the tunnel weren't even expected of Tommy. My boy just thought of that on his own and did it on his own. Noone knew it existed. Noone expected it to exist.

After independence Wilbur is implied to have been leading but he generally wasn't around too much. Tommy was keeping order in the more face to face kinda way. He tried to navigate people's personal conflicts and make sure things didn't escalate and just. He did so well.

And Pogtopia? Oh, Pogtopia.

It's a bit more difficult here, since they were no longer on exactly the same side and goals are more muddled but still.

(and I want to make it clear that I'm in no way trying to shame Wilbur for mental health issues or anything. This isn't about that. I'd never fucking even imply that)

Tommy kept morale high. He made sure that other people were fine, when there was a chance. He tried to reassure Wilbur when Wilbur was spiraling, he asked Tubbo if he was happier, he told Tubbo to be safe, he recruited Quackity when he saw the chance while making sure that Quackity's intentions were sincere enough (he didn't just naively offer Quackity a place in Pogtopia and risk it being a trap).

He avoided any kind of destruction to L'manberg as much as possible.

He rallied people.

Really, his one actual flaw was not "turning" on Wilbur. His unwillingness to give up on him or even just incapacitate him or limiting his ability to act as he wanted was what ended up costing him everything. His unwillingness to interfere with Wilburs plans beyond talking to him and threatening him with a crossbow that one time ended up making the 16th possible. And he can hardly be blamed for that.

And Wilbur, during Pogtopia... Well... Nobody liked him, he made everyone uncomfortable and most people just kinda tolerated him because... Yeah...

Without Tommy troop morale would have been abysmal thanks to Wilbur. He constantly put himself and his side down, labeling them as villains and thus morally inferior. He pitted his own people against each other, spread paranoia between his people. No communication or actually planning involving other people. Still refused to wear armor.

And don't get me wrong, that's the point. He wasn't on their side. Obviously Tommy added more to their victory, Wilbur didn't want their victory. But still I just wanna praise my boy Tommy, he was. So amazing. Boy fucking peaked.

He's so good in tactical warfare or whatever you call it.

And I wanna just make it clear that this isn't criticism of Wilbur. Not at all. This isn't criticism at all. This is just about the big fanon perception of Wilbur as this great and mature leader.

Tbh this is actually more about showing people how amazing Tommy was and PLEASE I WANT FICS TO HAVE TOMMY BE MORE OF AN EFFECTIVE POWERHOUSE

Regarding my former ask I just wanted to clarify again that I'm not trying to critique Wilbur or anything.

It's really just that I think it's hilarious how people remember him as way more put together and competent than he really was.

-

Yeah, honestly one of the biggest disservice people have done to c!Tommy in this fandom is fail to portray him as the badass general that he actually was. Like, sure, Wilbur's title was as "general", but he never did anything for it. He gave a few speeches, but then the work was left up to Tommy. Like, genuinely, rewatch the Eret betrayal vod, Wilbur says it openly that he's leaving it in Tommy's hands. And Tommy does manage to lead his troops into an advantageous position! They get their enemies to retire at one point during the very first battle!

Then, of course, there is the betrayal, but, once again, Tommy didn't give up. He built the tunnel for their scuffed escape beforehand and, when everyone was just about ready to give up, he went against Dream in a duel and then traded the discs for their independence without loosing a beat.

Tommy was a BIG asset during that war!

Wilbur mostly was and still is kind of a wreak. And it's not his fault, 'cause mental health is an absolute bitch and he wasn't doing too hot after the war, then it got worse with Pogtopia and even worse during the 13 years in Limbo. And now we are where we are now with Wilbur being... not a great individual.

But still! In Pogtopia Tommy was the de-facto leader. And yeah, that was because Wilbur wasn't on their side anymore, but they didn't entirely know that. Or didn't wanna see that.

Tommy himself was hoping that Wilbur would "come back around" if he managed to get back their country. That was a big motivator for him. And he did everything that was in his power to do to not lose either Wilbur or L'Manburg. He tried talking to Wilbur multiple times, tried persuading him that there was another way, he never bought into Wilbur's ideals, he recruited people and he lead the troops once again. It wasn't Techno that lead the troops (despite him being a much better fighter) it was Tommy. And once everything was exploded and Techno and Wilbur betrayed them? Well he kept encouraging people. Literally I'm begging everyone to watch that vod! Tommy was there at every step of the way, telling Niki that it wasn't over, telling Quackity to keep fighting and, after that, you know who was there to validate Tubbo's presidency? To rally people behind him? It wasn't Tubbo. Tommy gathered everyone by the L'Mantree and got their spirits high once again.

He is just genuinely amazing.

And, like, yeah now Wilbur managed to manipulate Tommy to an extent to be by his side. But that's not that much of an accomplishment anymore because Tommy has just been through so much that he's exhausted now, as you said. Like, remember when Tommy said he wanted to be on Wilbur's side because "he gets things done"? Well, I'm still waiting to see that one honestly...

[huggybearsunshine]

The Things We Left Behind Part 7

[Part 7] Second half of season 8 episode 10 Torn and Frayed.

A/N: TW for themes of self harm (angelic but still)

“I mean, come on,” Dean paced behind Kevin as the prophet attempted to ignore him, finally resorting to putting on his headphones to drown the man out, “How long’s it take to get a calf skull from Egypt?”

He looked at his watch before noticing that Kevin was no longer listening.

“Kevin?” he asked to no response, “Kevin.”

He snapped next to his ear just in case but still received no reaction.

“Your mom’s hot,” he waited, and upon feeling certain that he couldn’t be heard, he added, “Pretty sure I’m dating the Angel…”

He looked for a reaction, but still nothing, until his phone ringing practically made him jump out of his own skin. A glance at the screen had him rolling his eyes at the timing of his vampire friend.

Almost as bad as Sam’s.

“Hey, I thought I told you to go underground.”

“Hey,” Benny greeted him, “I am so far underground, I’m breathing through a straw, brother,” he chuckled uncomfortably, “Look, uh… what happened with your friend Martin back there- it… wasn’t supposed to go down that way.”

“I know, Benny,” Dean assured him, “Not your fault…”

“You did this old dog a real solid,” the vampire continued, “and uh- the way you stood up for me-”

“Well, shoe on the other foot,” Dean scuffed his feet on the floor as he paced around, “You would have done the same…”

“Yeah,” Benny’s voice broke a bit, a struggle to the sound, “I hate to ask you for much else, but I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’re anywhere near the Catskills?”

“Working a case on the other side of the country,” he frowned, “Why? What’s up?”

“Yeah, just hitting a little rough patch, I guess…” Benny’s weary voice rumbled through the receiver, “You know, doing this whole solo thing…”

“Benny, one day at a time, man,” Dean cut in.

“You know what,” Benny shook his head at himself, “Uh… cup of coffee sure would do me good…”

“Alright,” Dean cringed, knowing this wouldn’t go over well with anyone, “Soon as I’m done with this case, I’ll- uh…” he ran his hand through his hair exhaustedly, “I’ll be there, okay?”

“Yeah,” relief washed over the vampire like water and a slight smile tugged at his lip, “Alright, brother. Thank you.”

Dean hung up, pausing in place with his eyes on the phone as if it had betrayed him somehow.

“Sure your boyfriend is gonna like that?” Kevin asked without even looking up and Dean’s feet made a loud scrape as he whipped around.

“Wait, the headphones… you weren’t listening…” Dean stumbled verbally.

“That’s what I wanted you to think…” he turned, a slightly more sympathetic look on his face, “I’m pretty paranoid these days… Sorry.”

Dean inhaled a breath that he didn’t know he’d been refusing to take until it turned sharp in his lungs.

“If it makes it any better, I kinda always had a feeling about you two…” the prophet added.

“Really doesn’t, but it’s fine,” Dean shifted uncomfortably, “Where’s your mom anyway?”

Dean was desperate to talk about anything else at that point. A fact that seemed to amuse Kevin as a mischievous glint threatened within his eye. It was as if he wanted to tease Dean, but exhaustion inevitably won out like it often did these days against the personality he once had.

“Somewhere safe,” was his simple answer.

“You kicked your mom to the curb?” the hunter withdrew slightly in surprise.

“She was too distracting…” he tossed the headphones aside, “I couldn’t focus…”

“Yeah, but your mom’s your mom,” Dean scoffed, suddenly in a bad mood though he couldn’t place why.

“I can’t enjoy a world I need to save, Dean…” Kevin sobered, eyes meeting with the other’s, “I can enjoy it when this is all over with. For right now, there’s nothing more important than this.”

Dean’s eyes dropped when Kevin’s did, full of emotion and fixed on the floor.

“What if the world is never safe…” Dean finally spoke up again, “What if you’re waiting for a time that’ll never come… Could you do this,” he waved a hand vaguely around, “forever… Alone?”

“No,” Kevin admitted honestly, focus once again trained on the tablet in front of him, “You shouldn’t either…”

Dean’s mouth opened to speak, but the silence was instead filled with the sound of wings.

“I got what we need,” Cas’ voice pierced what remaining quiet there was in the room, forcefully pulling them from their moment.

“Bout time,” Dean’s gaze shifted toward him before taking in the form of his giant, little brother, “What’s he doing here?”

“Don’t worry, Dean,” Sam jumped in without missing a beat, “Once we save Alfie, I’m out.”

“Oh, once we save Alfie?” Dean’s frustration peaked, “Don’t hurt yourself, Sam… Cas and I can handle it.”

“Not according to Cas,” Sam crossed his arms defiantly.

Dean turned his eyes toward the Angel in question.

“I told you we didn’t need him,” he reiterated, an almost petulant sound to his voice that he had not meant to put into it, “Did he at least apologize to you?”

“We need everything, Dean,” Cas took in a steadying breath, “And an apology isn’t necessary.”

“Oh, the hell it isn’t-“

“I am…” Sam interrupted, focused now on Cas alone, “Sorry, Cas… I didn’t mean-”

“I know that, Sam,” Cas softened but only for a moment before squaring his shoulders again, ���Now I need both of you, as you say, to stow your crap. Can you do that?”

The brother’s just stared stubbornly refusing to answer until the matter was dropped. With Sam alone offering what could’ve been a minute nod at most.

The mission though proved to be a mess from start to finish. They got through to Alfie well enough, but less predictable was the complete mental breakdown Cas experienced upon reaching the other Angel.

“What’s wrong?” Dean fell to his knees before the other man who was crouched on the floor in hysterics, but when Cas remained unresponsive, he stood once more, “Okay, time for plan B.”

“Plan B?” Sam asked before watching Dean fling himself into the iron door, “Ah.”

But sure enough, after a couple of minutes the men were in, and Cas was on his feet again as if nothing happened.

“Dean?” Cas looked for him in the frenzy once he had Samandriel freed from his restraints.

“Cas, go!” Dean called back and the two celestials instantly vanished.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” Cas propped the other Angel against baby’s passenger side door, “I’m taking you home.”

“No, you can’t take me back there, Castiel… I told Crowley… things… Things he shouldn’t have known,” Samandriel clung to Cas’ lapel as he pleaded, “He got to our coding, our secrets… Secrets I didn’t even know we had!”

“What secrets?” Cas’ brows dropped low.

“Heaven,” he replied pointedly, grip tightening even more around the Angel’s coat, “Naomi.”

A vision flashed before him, but it was fogged over in an instant.

“Naomi,” the name echoed in his mind.

“No… W-who’s Naomi?” he voiced aloud.

“Who is-“ Samandriel’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head, “Listen to me. Listen to me closely. I’ve been there! I know!”

Castiel’s vision began to go in and out as if on autofocus.

“They’re controlling us, Castiel!” Samandriel’s voice bellowed, trying desperately to reach him.

“What do you mean?” Cas looked pained as the confusion persisted.

“Castiel,” a woman’s voice screamed and he was suddenly in a white chair with her looming over him. Naomi. “Kill him!”

“What does he mean ‘They’re controlling us’?” he pressured.

“Castiel!” her voice cried back in frustration as if chastising a misbehaved dog.

“Who is controlling us? Why did I see your face?” he was practically begging her at this point, only a distraction as his hand slipped under the sleeve of the opposite side, “Why was I so afraid? What did you do to me?”

“This is a direct order!” she pulled him to his feet roughly, “Kill him!”

He felt himself being pushed back only to still be standing by the impala with Samandriel again, a blade falling into his hand and swinging forward before he could even react.

He sunk down with him, feeling the ground flatten under his knees while simultaneously looking up at Naomi from that same white chair.

“What did I just do?” his voice shook.

“You killed a traitor,” the woman in the white room corrected.

“Samandriel was… good,” his eyes watered, “And I was trying to atone…”

“Samandriel was broken,” she insisted, “He revealed the existence of something I would die to protect- any of us would die to protect.”

“I just murdered one of our own to protect a tablet?” Cas looked sick.

“You’re a hero, Castiel,” she moved closer, “You have done heaven a great service.”

“And that’s what I tell Sam and Dean?” he gathered, hand once again shoved up into the other side’s sleeve before he was pulled back by the sound of Dean’s voice.

“Cas! What the hell happened?”

“He was compromised,” he looked up, robotically repeating the words he was told to say, “He came at me. I killed him in self-defense.”

“Cas, you okay?” Dean looked horrified as blood dripped from the Angel’s eye.

“My vessel must have been damaged in the melee,” but the hunter could see something in his eyes screaming for him, “I have to go.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Dean shook his head before stepping forward.

He stared at the Angel, holding the gaze in a way they had perfected over years of pining stupidly after one another, and Cas was completely caught off guard as the cold of the Enochian-engraved cuffs hit his wrists.

“Dean,” he growled.

Dean felt a wetness on the end of the Angel’s sleeve before he could release his wrists, eyes rising worriedly toward the other’s awaiting gaze before he yanked the sleeve up to see it.

The seraph had carved the words ‘They’re controlling us’ into his arm.

“You’re staying with me this time,” Dean ground out through clenched teeth.

“With us,” Sam corrected.

“You sure,” Dean turned, “Cause whatever you decide… decide. Both feet in or both feet out. Anything in between is what gets you dead.”

His own words seemed to settle on him and he made a face that said he had called himself out a bit with that one.

“You and Cas get in the car… I got something I gotta do…” Dean pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked at it carefully.

Sam dropped a hand heavily onto Dean’s shoulder as he passed, and Dean vaguely heard the doors click shut behind him. One and then a few moments later, the other. And then the phone was rising to his ear before he even knew he’d dialed.

“Dean, I thank you mightily, bud,” the rasp of the vampire’s voice rang out, “I’m in a hard way here. How close are you?”

“I’m sorry, man. I, um…” Dean replied, eyes drawn as always to Cas’ as he watched him like a hawk from within the car, “I’m not gonna make it.”

“You mean now, or…”

“Listen, Benny, everything you’ve done for me… I will never forget, but, uh… This is it,” he finally broke the connection, finding the ground easier to take in than that uncompromising blue gaze.

“End of the line?” Benny guessed.

“End of the line,” the hunter confirmed.

“Yeah, well, I never liked these cellphones anyway,” he laughed to lighten the heaviness that had dropped onto both of them.

“You, uh… You stay good alright?” Dean couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“You too, Dean…” Benny shook his head, “and uh, thanks for the ride.”

“Yeah, man… adios.”

Always the adios.

——————————

@spuffy-destiel @destieliscanon5nov

[the-shiftshop]

Hey Diary - Part 4

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3 and SIDE STORY 1 of the Hey Diary Series

The day ended unexpectedly fun. Everyone was so confused why Keith and I had been laughing together, eating together and even sitting side by side in class today as if Keith never had bullied me. Some even tried to confront us, asking if Keith held me hostage. Keith had been dragging me all around with him. He even asked me to play ball with Peter and Tom, who seemed more closer than usual. I would make assumptions that my recent changes are still affecting them, but I already had deleted that log, and these two would, time by time, give hints that they’re nothing more than a friend, so I shrugged it off.

On my way home, I couldn’t get the fun out of my system. I finally felt so free to move. It’s like I can finally do whatever I want and be whatever I want to be.

Then I suddenly remembered what Keith had asked me this morning.

“Make me old enough to be a teacher for a day.”

It got me thinking about what he’s planning to do once more. It’s not that I don’t trust Keith. It’s just that I’m wondering what his goal is. It’s probably just because he wants to experience being old, or being a teacher. He looked so exhilarated when I told him all about the Diary App, so I’m pretty sure he just wants to give it a try.

At home, I didn’t waste anymore time to tinker with the app as I am very tired and I already want to fall asleep. I carefully wrote down on the app, thinking of the desired outcome I am aiming for.

Monday

Hey Diary,

Today was fun. It felt like I was friends with Keith, Peter and Tom ever since the first day we met. We all had fun together and it felt like all my problems are fixed. This morning, I talked to Keith about this Diary App. I have trusted Keith on this, and I do hope he wouldn’t take that for granted. He was super amazed with this app and the ability of it to change reality and he specifically gave me one request.

I wish that would come true, I wish Keith would turn into the person he want him to be just for a day, and that he would be aware of any changes that may occur.

With that properly typed out, I pressed save, then in just a few seconds, I lost consciousness on my bed.

---------

As soon as Felix fainted in his room, Keith was lying on his bed in the frat house, tossing and turning as he feel his body contort in uncomfortable ways. It wasn’t painful. It just felt like his body is growing far more foreign in every seconds that pass by. It’s like his body wanting to grow numb, but he can still feel pain if he try to pinch himself. With his fingers still pinching his cheeks, he noticed hair poking out to them. He proceeded to feel his face with both his hands, realizing that he’s growing a full beard. Finally recognizing what’s going on, he stopped moving around, and he instead just lied on his back and let it all happen.

He moved his hands down to his growing torso, feeling each muscles expand in his touch. He’s growing, that’s for sure, and it’s not just his body. His mind started to fog up a little, making him wince for a bit.

“I should be working on my lessons for tomorrow-” He blurted out unconsciously. He stopped himself midway, realizing what he had just said. That was the first time he said that. And not only that he meant he’ll study for a lesson, he knows he meant that he’s the one teaching them tomorrow.

He finally decided to stand up. His eyes widened when he saw that it had suddenly gone dark. Not only that, but his beddings changed. His shock soon changed into amusement when we quickly see the night change into day then back to night simultaneously, starting off slow, then it sped up. Even the weird feelings all over his body start to feel more prominent. Memories of years of teaching poured out into his brain. Names of all the student he should know popped out in his mind. Charles, that up-to-no-good student but gets straight As in his class; Marie, that campus nerd who kept asking him weird questions; Lawrence, that jock who needs to keep up with his quizzes. Keith already knew some of these students, but he started to see them in a different light. These are the students he teach, not his friends, not his classmates, not his football teammates.

Keith fell back on his knees as he started to feel tiredness.

It was exhausting feeling all of these happen in just a few minutes. It hurts his eyes to see the outside change between night and day as if like flashing images. His vision started to blur and in replace to his clear sight, a thick round glasses appear on his face.

He remember finishing college and finally started his first practice teaching. Now he’s a fully pledged professor. Everyone liked him. He can even remember students confessing their feelings for him, but of course, declining these for his job. He can remember going into classrooms, not to sit with the crowd, but to stand in front of them. He knows how to make a hard topic fun and he knows his students enjoy his class as much as how he loves to teach.

Tiredness was replaced with pleasure as he arched his back, placing both hands on his crotch, then giving a loud satisfying moan. Feeling his cock ballooned through his shorts. He slowly humped against his hands as he put more pressure on them.

He remember tons of hook ups from college up to recent. Remembering women bouncing on him, kissing him passionately, touching him with deep romantic and sexual connection. These thoughts of women is making him hard. His colleagues had been asking him why he haven’t been properly dating anyone yet, or even planning to marry anyone since he’s already nearing age of marriage, but he just enjoys having flings with a lot of people more than sticking to one, at least, for now. He knows when he will find that right person, and that person has not come yet.

He realized that both of his hands are already in his underpants, pawing that hard cock with one hand, while the other is teasing his tip. He finally had let both of his hands stroke his large shaft. He pulled his cock out of his shorts, then finally gave into pleasure.

“A-Ah! Yeah! Damn!” He cussed in his new deeper voice. Not only that he noticed his voice, he realized that his cursing got more softer, less of that slurs, but more of that expression used to show immense satisfaction. “Aww.. This feels so...”

He cut himself as he finally real his climax, cumming all of what seemed like a 14 year stock of cum all over the floor. The cum stain on the floor disappeared soon enough and his room straightened up more. Finally the quick changing of time came to a full stop.

It was morning and it’s time to take a shower and go to school.

---------

Wish was completed. Please take a picture and attach to the log to confirm change and to keep the new reality.

I stared at the pop-up message in my phone. Peter and Tom are laughing beside me while they eat their lunch. I haven’t seen Keith since morning. I’m kinda worried if I messed up with something. The suspense is killing me and I don’t like this. Tom waved a hand in front of me.

“Dude. You’re been staring in your phone since the time you got here. You fine?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just wondering where Keith has gone to.” I said.

“Keith? Who’s Keith?” Tom asked, before giving me a shocked face. “You don’t mean Professor Keith, right?” He chuckled, “Didn’t know he’s your type.” He joked.

I gave him a confused look, then realizing what he meant, I quickly tried to reply back. “N-No! It’s not like that-”

“Tom, don’t tease him. Let him like whoever he likes.” Peter laughed.

“I mean, I should’ve been saying the same. But then, who wouldn’t fall head over heels for Professor Keith? He’s damn ripped. Unlike the other professors here who focus on growing their stomach and ego, more than growing their muscles.” Tom continued eating his food.

Keith’s a professor now, huh? I guess it worked.

After lunch, we proceeded to class. More than usual, everyone had been talking about Keith. I was sitting on my chair, still staring in my phone as it display the same message. I haven’t used this phone on anything else yet.

My attention switched to Alex who walked in front of me. I haven’t seen Alex in 2 days. He looks like he wants to ask me something. I looked at him and he opened his mouth. “Hey, Felix, uhm... Can we talk-”

“Okay, class back to your seats.”

A deep voice came booming through the room. Everyone sat back to their chairs, including Alex who looks disappointed.

I looked at the man by the whiteboard. He was wearing a denim dress shirt and a black jeans. His round glasses flare with the florescent light in the room. Everyone in the room is staring at him. Most girls are looking at him with hearts in their eyes.

The man dropped his things on the table, then started roaming his eyes around the room. “Before we start our lesson. Felix, a word.” He called onto me. I looked around to see everyone looking to my direction, most of them in shock. “Come now.” He said, walking out the room.

I hurried out to follow him somewhere. He didn’t bother looking back, and I just rushed to follow him. He finally stopped where there are barely no students around. He sat down by the window and stared at me. I just stared at him back, looking from his head to toe. He scuffed and gave me a short chuckle.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He grinned.

“I- Uhm. Sorry, prof. I don’t swing-”

“Nah! I’m messing with you, man!” He laughed. “It’s me! Keith! Well, it’s Professor Keith for you now.”

My eyes widened. This man is Keith. It worked. I mean why am I so surprised right now? I’m the one who knows about this Diary App.

“I’m enjoying this knowledge so much! I know about A LOT of stuff I never knew before. So this is how it feels to be a professor.” He flexed, touched his muscles, and basically showed off. He pulled out an apple and tossed it around. “A students gave this to me today. I never received any offer from anyone.”

“You like it?” I asked him.

“I like it? I LOVE IT! Though, I might not stay like this forever, at least I don’t want to.” He replied.

I raised my eyebrows. “Why?” I asked him.

“Well... For now I want to enjoy being this kind of adult.” He answered.

He stopped for a while, running his fingers against his chin. He then took a bite from the apple he was holding, chewing it thoroughly, then swallowing.

“The reason why I’m asking your help is... I want to experience being different people for the whole week.”

[blouisparadise]

Here are some of the amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of September. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Hard Candy Dripping On Me (Til My Feet Are Wet) | Explicit | 1997 words

Louis gets fucked on a plane. That’s it.

2) Fucking Nightmares | Mature | 2151 words

Louis has a nightmare. Harry comforts him.

3) You Could Take A Lick (But It's Too Cold To Bite) | Explicit | 2469 words

“You look kinda thirsty.” Louis croons softly.

Harry leans back in his chair and tilts his head to the side. His eyes are covered by the pair of expensive shades, but Louis feels his eyes drifting down his backside as he lays on his stomach.

“Why don’t you bring me a bit of that ice cream, darling?”

Louis and Harry have fun in a summer day.

4) Interview With The Vampire  | Explicit | 4135 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Robert Pattinson.

Working at an alpha magazine wasn't always easy for an omega like Louis, but he's just landed his biggest interview yet with an A list actor who has asked for Louis especially. Unfortunately, the interview is with Rob Pattinson, the biggest pain in the arse alpha on the planet.

Inspired by Rob’s interview in GQ Magazine and not actually about vampires

5) Conozco La Vida | Teen & Up | 4761 words

Note: This fic contains no explicit smut, but since it’s omega Louis, we’ve included it. 

"I have a son," he declared, there was a very thinly veiled layer of hesitation.

Harry was unaware in the direction which this conversation was heading but chose to stare at the man instead.

"He is an Omega," he dropped the pivotal piece of information.

Harry's attention was hooked now.

"He has been raised in an Omega convent all his life, he hasn't been in the presence of any Alpha who isn't his immediate family."

"I am still waiting for you to make a point."

"You could take him as an Omega."

Harry did not react, his face remaining perfectly free of betrayal of any sort of emotion and leaned back upon his chair, his leg crossed upon his knee. "You are selling your son to me?"

6) It’s Hard For Me To Go Home | Not Rated | 4890 words

Don’t call me baby again.

7) So Baby, Let's Keep It Secret | Explicit | 4638 words

“I’ll leave with you,” Harry said after a beat, sounding sure of himself.

“What!? No!, you can’t leave with me, Harry, you have a life here. You have a job and friends an-”

Harry kissed him in the middle of his rambling. “Which means nothing if I don’t have you.”

Into You Music Video AU.

8) ZOMOS | Mature | 5659 words

Is it easy to forget everything and start afresh? Is it easy being served with hateful glances and insults when all you wish for is to be loved? Is it easy to make it seem like everything is alright when in reality your world is crumbling into pieces with every breath you take?

Is it easy to be the omega who is unwanted by their alpha?

9) Your Biggest Fan | Explicit | 9075 words 

Just like everyone else, Louis has a few habits that he can’t seem to break. Guilty pleasures, rather. His nails are perpetually short because he can’t quit biting them, the bottom of his shoes scuffed from tapping his foot constantly. Sometimes his leg gets a cramp from bouncing it so often underneath his desk. That isn't too bad, he reckons, just some average teenage coping mechanisms.And also, occasionally, minor instances of theft.

10) Making A Splash | Explicit | 9557 words

“You want this?” Harry muses, fisting his cock as he drags his hand lazily up his thick length. Louis eyes the motion and nods his head absentmindedly. “You want to show everyone at this beach how much of a slut you are for Daddy’s cock?”

“M‘your slut,” Louis immediately replies, inching closer, inching closer with his eyes glued on Harry’s glistening cock, precome shining under the sun as it dribbles out his slit.

Harry grins widely and stops the movement of his hand to grip himself at the base again, pushing Louis’ head down. “Show everyone how much of a slut you are.”

11) Hung Up High in the Gallery | Mature | 14006 words

When Harry’s best friend, Louis, comes to support him at his art show, he decides they need to do some celebrating afterwards. How fast do the lines between friends and lovers get blurred ... or better, get painted?

12) My Home Is Your Body | Explicit | 15341 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Henry Cavill.

He had seen who had made his senses go haywire. His ex was in the front row, five feet in front of him. He felt his eyes on him even as he mechanically made his way to the end of the runway, hoping to God he didn’t look like a maniac. Everything was a blur. He somehow managed to walk the rest of the way without falling or emoting anything. Why was he HERE? Of all places.

...where Louis is a successful omega model and the last thing he expects is his ex to become the co-partner of the new company he works for....

13) There's Nothing Like It (Nothing At All) | Explicit | 15471 words 

Note: This is a sequel to this fic.

His hands are outstretched on the mattress like he’s reaching out for something, reaching out for Harry. It makes his heart swell, almost bursting with affection and love. He only waits a bit longer before reaching over to turn off the light and pulling Louis to his chest, smiling when the omega immediately sighs in contentment, nuzzling into his skin happily.Tomorrow, he tells himself. Tomorrow, they’ll talk about it.-Or, Harry isn’t ready for things to change, and the end is just the beginning.

14) Seven Simple Words | Explicit | 15535 words

It’s not like he and Louis were a couple. No, they might have been a lot of things—best mates and colleagues with a seemingly convenient friends-with-benefits arrangement—but never a couple. It wasn’t Louis’ fault he didn’t feel the same way and couldn’t reciprocate Harry’s feelings in the way he’d wanted, the way he’d needed. Harry had allowed himself to get in too deep, his entire being aching to be loved back by the object of his affections. But in love, as in life, you don’t always get what you want.

15) Works Like A Charm | Explicit | 18061 words

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone.

One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts.

Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts.

Three: They do not get along.

So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.

16) The Way This River Runs | Explicit | 27417 words 

It’d be so easy to just open his mouth and plead with Harry, to scream I’m sorry until his voice disappears, but he can’t. Be it his pride or his ego or his insecurities, he just can’t do it. The worst part is that he knows Harry would probably forgive him.

But Louis doesn’t want phony forgiveness. He doesn’t want Harry’s soothing words and pity embrace, thinks he might just break altogether if he was offered them. He feels like he’s made of glass recently and it’s to the point where he kind of wants to tip over the edge, just to see if he’d shatter. Just to see who’d be there to pick up the pieces if he did.

17) Give Me Love | Explicit | 41041 words

Louis doesn't feel like a good omega, Harry doesn't remember how to be an alpha, and they figure it out together.

18) Falling Out Of Fashion | Explicit | 42123 words

Harry Styles has been the established face of the Grimshaw House of Design for two years. It’s a prestigious and coveted modeling contract Harry took away from once-famed supermodel Zayn Malik. With the model transition Grimshaw’s designs went from a more urban, Zayn-forward aesthetic, to a Harry-favoring flowery, flowing femininity in the Grimshaw designs for men.

So when Harry sees a dress Grimshaw made for a famous Marvel actress, “only a tease”, Nick says, of the evolving look, Harry knows Grimshaw is shifting his aesthetic.

Harry wonders if he can pull off the look.

19) Three Days In February | Explicit | 189346 words

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

Ridiculous amounts of banter and angst, a lot of Harry and Louis alone together, a healthy dose of OT5 friendship, and one very magical weekend.

20) Boss Bitch | Explicit | 386901 words

Harry had always wanted to work for this successful mafia; the mafia that everyone knew, everyone feared. Led by none other than the pahntom

"L'eue Courante", whom everyone knew existed, but had no other clues who this person could be. The only thing known was a high heel the phantom once left.

So this person had to be woman, Harry assumend. And man, was he wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[angelthebedsheet]

“unprepared”

midoriya izuku x reader

x gender neutral reader

a/n: needed the creative juices to get flowing so i can try my best to update. been in love with genshin. kaeya and lisa i am in love with you. your quirk is not specified!! 

q/n = quirk name

contains kissing, whole lotta fluff shit, emotions, loving midoriya hour!!!

—————————-—————————————————

There were many things Izuku was and unprepared was rarely one of them. He was always at least 3 steps ahead. That is until he got with you.

He was unprepared from the first day he met you. Starry eyes gazing upon your curly hair and s/c skin that looked more vibrant under the sun. He was unprepared to even hear your lips part to utter an introduction to him. To hear you greet him every morning or chirp his name through the phone. He was even more unprepared to fall in love with you.

He was unprepared for you to become his significant other. Someone who’s supposed to love and care for him and was unprepared when you genuinely wanted to be him. He wouldn’t lie about it. He isn’t the most confident person you can meet. The years of bullying he faced ever since Bakugo manifested a quirk and he didn’t make his confidence take massive blows. Bakugo’s quirk included. He was surprised when you were so adamant on hyping him up every second you could and the fact you didn’t let him become self-deprecating.

“I-It wasn’t that great, Y/N. I’ve done better and I feel like I’ve failed others like usual.” Midoriya stuttered as he looked at his scarred hands. The same hands that were once smooth were covered in what he called his mistakes. You gently grabbed his chin and tilted his head up so you could see his emerald eyes that always had that child-like glimmer of wonder and curiosity in them. “All that matters is that you did your best in the current moment. As a hero, you aren’t always going to be able to do things how you wish you could. The only thing that makes is if you put as much effort and passion into this. Don’t belittle your efforts, Izu. You amaze everyone. Me included. You try your best to handle these battles even though you’re still learning how to control your quirk.” You said softly as you looked into his eyes. You moved your hand to gently hold his cheek. You watched as his eyes glossed over, bottom lip slightly quivering. He leaned into your touch as he gently held your wrist.

“That’s admirable, Izuku. You win some and lose some. Just know I’ll always be here you be your little cheerleader. Know that there’s always going to be someone out there who’s proud of you no matter what you do.” You said, wiping a stray tear from his cheek with your thumb and pressing a kiss to his forehead

He truly wasn’t prepared for your constant gestures of love and affection. From the surprise teasing kisses.

You tapped his shoulder. Midoriya hummed and looked up from his homework to be met with your lips pressed against his. He slightly gasped before his eyes fluttered close, face heating up. Just as he was about to cup your cheek, you pulled away, causing him to slightly huff from the lost of contact. “What was that for?” He mumbled with a furrowed pout. You cheekily smiled before patting his cheek. “Just because.” You said, turning back to look down at your worksheet. Purposely ignoring the slight pout on Midoriya’s face before he quickly huffed, now distracted from his homework.

To the meaningful kisses during late nights where you would just let him rant while you helped combed out the daily tangles from his curly hair.

“And it’s just hard with all this stress on me.” He mumbled, wincing at the feeling of you combing out his tangled ends. “Sorry Zuzu— But I understand. Well, not how you exactly feel but I understand what you mean.” You said, softly as you sprayed some leave in conditioner in his hair. “No, no, I get it. I just wish I didn’t have all this pressure on me sometimes. But it’s mandatory especially with All Might trusting me, so I’ll just have to work harder.” Midoriya said, making you furrow your eyebrows. “Anht. Izuku, you deserve a break.” You said. He turned to look back at you as if you had just told him, you didn’t really like All Might. (Although, that statement was true you would never tell him that. It’s a secret you’d take to the grave. You had a small personal vendetta against the abnormally sickly tall man that could barely last a couple minutes without hacking up blood into a handkerchief.)

“Take a break? B-But I can—“

“Says who? Yeah you may be in the hero course, have a powerful quirk, and All Might of all people being your mentor. But, you still need a break. We’re all teens. We need to have fun and let loose.”

“I....”

“So after this I’m twisting your hair up, putting on your bonnet, and we’re gonna have a free day tomorrow.”

“Baby I appreciate it but—“ You cut him off. “I never said this was an offer. We’re doing it. Tomorrow’s Saturday and you need the break more than anyone. You always push yourself past your limits and go above and beyond. As a hero, you can’t always work to make sure everyone’s safe but yourself. You need to be selfish and here’s one of the times.” You said, cupping his cheek. His bottom lip quivered as he quickly sat up on his knees to press a kiss against your plush lips. He held onto your knees to push the kiss deeper. You only dropped the comb and slid your arms around his neck. He smiled against your lips and stood up. You pulled him down on the bed and lightly chuckled. He smiled wider and rested his forehead against yours, ignoring the tears that pricked his eyes from how loved he felt.

He was unprepared when you leaped into battle immediately, taking a hit that was meant for him. 

Your eyes widened as you looked over at Izuku who was currently giving his all, using OFA against a villain. You ran as fast as you could, determined to protect him as you noticed something he didn’t. The villain had an extra move up their sleeve that would be a painful hit on Izuku. It would take longer for him to heal in the current vulnerable state he was already in. He didn’t deserve to be the main target majority of the time he was just trying to get an education. Everyone else were already working hard to take down the remaining villains and you’d be damned if you let Izuku end up in the hospital again. Activating q/n, using it to your advantage, you propelled yourself to yank an unsuspecting Izuku out of the way. Two different yelps were let out. 

Your yelp of pain as the villain’s powered up fist collided against your side, sending you tumbling back and Izuku’s yelp of surprise as he had stumbled back from the force you have previously used to pull him back. He quickly snapped out his confused state to make a mad dash towards your body that was hunched over, cradling your side. He slid on his knees, not caring if he scuffed them up, and gently held you. “Baby. Baby, hey hey, open your eyes.” He exclaimed, panicked. You winced as you pried one eye open. “’zuku?” You grunted out. “W-We’re- I’m gonna move you out of here.” He said as he gently scooped you up in his arms. “B-But you have to fig-” You were interrupted by his stern voice. “You’re more important!” He exclaimed before running off, using OFA to make himself quicker. 

The quick and short trip to your safety went by in a blur as you faded in and out due to the immense pain you felt in your side. You were soon laid down against something firm. You didn’t bother to even look as it hurt to voice any snarky comebacks you had. “L-Let me see.” Izuku voiced out, shakily. “Huh?” You winced. “Let me see how bad it is. May I?” He said, not even looking anywhere but your side. You only nodded as you felt his rough hands delicately remove your hero suit as if he was unboxing a glass figurine. His breath hitched as he looked at the blooming bruise on your side that was almost too painful for him to look at. “W-Why would you take that hit for me?” He whimpered as he lightly grazed his gloved fingers across the bruise so lightly it was like he never even touched it in the first place.

 “Because I hate how much you go to the hospital-” You hissed as you slowly adjusted yourself. “-just for using your quirk so much. If you had taken that hit, it would’ve much worse for you. You didn’t even notice that move before I stepped in. I want to protect you as much as you protect me.” You mumbled. Izuku’s casted a shadow over his eyes as he let your words soak in. You watched as green lightning crackled around him. “I’ll get someone to watch you. I’m gonna go get that villain.” He said as he leaned in to press a kiss upon your lips. You kissed back as much as the pain in your side let you. He pulled back and you caressed his cheek. “Give em hell, Zuku. Go beat their ass for me.” You said before he nodded and ran off. He was filled with rage as he ran back into the field. He was a man on a mission and nobody was get in his way. Unless, they wanted to catch his fists. Literally.

He was unprepared for the stupid little things you’d whisper late at night just to get an amusing reaction out of him. 

“You know, All Might’s kinda hot.” You whispered, earning a bewildered snort from Izuku. “I’m sorry, what?” He whisper shouted as he shot up to look at you. You snickered behind your hand as you slowly sat up. “I’m joking, Zu!” You giggled out. He groaned and grabbed a pillow to gently hit you in the face with. “That’s gross!” He whined. “What you telling me you never went on Wattpad and searched up All Might x Readers?” You whispered, deadpanned. Izuku went silent as he looked away. “Wait you deadass?” You exclaimed. He shushed you as he wacked you in the face with the pillow. You started laughing as he whisper shouted. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” He repeated as he kept hitting you with the pillow. 

But, he was fully prepared to love you unconditionally.

He kneeled down, opening a small black box, revealing the ring you always stared at with sparkling eyes. “Will you marry me?” He said as he looked up at you with watery eyes.

[olsone13]

I Wrote it in Your Shower

A bouquet of flowers and some Italian food inspire a song

A/N: lol okay so i was oddly inspired while working this evening and this is what happened. Please be kind and any feedback is greatly appreciated!!! I also didn’t edit this very much after the initial writing of it...

TW: None really, sexual behavior implied but very, very lightly. 

The library was quiet. And that’s the way I liked it, just me and the books and my music. They had lives of their own that lived in the people that borrowed them and lost themselves between their pages. The books came back to me, always a little different than when they left me. I was on my break, reading the latest novel I had become absorbed into in the old leather chair by the window in the back corner of the library. It had the best natural light and no one seemed to bother me when I was back here, even though it was the best spot in the library. As the music flooded my ears and my eyes skimmed the pages, I saw a pair of scuffed boots standing a little too close to my chair to be an accident. Pulling an earbud out I asked the individual belonging to the boots what he needed.

“If you really need help, I can take care of it but I’m on break and Catherine at the front desk would be more than happy to help.”

“Oh, um, actually I was wondering if I could just sit and join you. I need a moment,” he said with a sigh. He looked familiar but I couldn’t place where I knew him from.

“Uh sure, it’s my favorite spot in the library and I’m in a good mood so have a seat,” I said as I shuffled myself and my sprawled lunch away from the other leather chair.

“The name’s Harry. And thank you for sharing your spot.” A soft smile reached his eyes as he looked back up at me. It was the I realized who he was and that he was singing to me in my headphones right now.

“Y/N. And of course, anything for you Harry” I said as I turned my phone screen towards him, to show that he was in fact the person I had in my headphones at the moment.

“I won’t tell anyone your secret, that you’re here, if you don’t tell anyone about my favorite spot” I winked at him when he quickly realized I knew he exactly who he was.  

“Deal,” he smiled back at me again, relief replacing the worry that had quickly appeared.

I finished my food and the remainder of the chapter I had started, all while Harry’s eyes never really left my space. He would occasionally check his phone but it felt like I was an animal being observed in a zoo. I started to gather my garbage and the book to check out since it had hooked me by chapter 1, asking Harry if he was staying any longer.

“I’ll be a bit longer I think. I like this space y’know? When are you done with work, I owe you a coffee or a drink or something for saving m’skin back there” He said as he shifted in his chair.

“I’m done around 3, so like an hour and a half, I know a cute cafe down the block and we can walk since it’s still nice out.” I quickly pushed myself out of the chair, walked to the front counter and tossed my garbage. The rest of my time passed quickly and I seemed to find every chance to visit the back corner to put away books or to just peek my head around the corner and catch his eye.

I clocked out and put my name tag on my desk so I wouldn’t forget it tomorrow. I threw my tote bag with my laptop and other work materials over my shoulder and picked up my purse. I went to go grab Harry, only to find him waiting for me outside the library specialists office.

“A specialist huh?” He asked me as we walked toward the staff parking lot.

“Uh yeah! I have always loved research and books and so I found a home here and I do some side projects with local colleges to assist on research materials and stuff.” I said as I unlocked my car door and threw my work bag and cardigan into the back seat. I was left in the sleeveless dress and loafers I had thrown on this morning.

“The cafe is just down the street a little if you’re okay with walking, otherwise I can drive us.”

“I think it’ll be nice to walk, just uh show me the way.” I started off down the path that cut through the park and towards the main part of old downtown. As we approached the café, I finished my story about how I had ended up in town. Harry opened the door for me and I walked up to the counter ordering a large caramel iced coffee, my drink of choice since I was 16 and needed an excessive amount of sugar to down the bitter drink. Harry stepped up and placed his order as well, grabbed both of our drinks and then picked out a small table in the back corner of the café.

“Wow a big ‘back-corner’ kinda guy huh?” I chuckled as I sat and grabbed my drink from him.

“S’habit.” He shrugged as he took a sip of his drink.

2 hours later and we were finally stepping out into the darkening main street. We walked back to my car and I looked at Harry again, asking where he was staying.

“Oh uh don’t worry bout me, I’ll find a ride” he said as he kicked a rock across the parking lot.

“Let me drive you there so you don’t get picked up by some weirdo, please?”

“A’right” he nodded like he was pressuring himself that this was the best decision, and got into the passenger seat.

After pulling into the hotel parking lot, Harry and I looked at each other for a moment before he said, barely above a whisper,

“Thank you for the normal day today” and getting out of the car. I waved back to him as I drove away and watched him disappear into the hotel doors. Cursing myself for not asking him to stay longer or at least get some way to contact him, I drove back to my apartment. I laid in bed and distractedly read my book. After reading the same page over and over again, I gave up and turned off the bedside lamp.

Morning came entirely too fast, and my dream of kissing Harry was cut short. I shook the sleep from my head and hopped in the shower before getting dressed for another day among the books.

“There’s something on your desk, came in as soon as I opened the doors this morning dear,” Catherine told me as I walked into the library.

“Thanks!” I called back as I entered the shared office space. When I looked at my desk, my jaw dropped, a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers was sitting on my desk. I pulled the card out as I set my bags on my desk chair.

“To being normal and back-corners. Call Me - H”

Harry Styles had just sent me flowers AND he wanted me to call him? I thought to myself, as I got my desk set up for the days work. I wold be doing more research than front desk work today, which meant more time to stress over whether or not I was actually going to be calling him. By the time lunch rolled around, I had dialed his number 6 times but never actually called. Yes I was a grown woman, reduced to jello by one celebrity crush, but who wouldn’t be? I dialed the number and held my breath, praying for the voicemail.

“Mornin’ was waitin’ for you t’call me.” I could hear the smirk as I stammered out a hello.

“Well, I uh, you know was busy. I’m a professional you know?” I said as I walked into the staff room to grab my lunch, which was a sandwich again. I sat down on the plastic chair and Harry asked me about my day and what had happened so far.

“Oh you know, the usual. I walked in to a giant bouquet of flowers and then trying to focus on very important research but focusing on the wrong… erhm… subject” I said through bites of food.

“The wrong subject huh? Why don’t you tell me all about this wrong subject at dinner tonight? 7pm work for you?” He asked.

“Bold of you to assume I have no plans, but yeah 7pm should be great.” I said with a little smile, knowing he was grinning from ear to ear by the way he sounded on the phone.

“Text me your address and I’ll pick you up. My turn to drive, love” He said as he hung up the phone. Did I really just get asked on a date? Tonight? What was I supposed to wear?

I smoothed the black dress down and picked up my purse. It was simple, but it was flattering and we were just going for some Italian food at the bistro by the river. Harry pulled up in front of my building and I walked over to the car. I slid into the front seat and looked over at Harry who was wearing a floral shirt, flared cords and some boots.

“Well you clean up nicely, although the flared pants are a dead give-away” I said as he started to pull away.

“What are you talking about?” He looked confused as I chuckled to myself.

“Well clearly people know you’re here, otherwise you would not have been hiding in my library yesterday. Those pants are a dead giveaway that it’s you, they’re nice though. I like them.” I finished with a shrug. He just looked at me and shook his head not saying anything.

We enjoyed dinner, wine and sharing stories about out lives, mine seemingly more boring than his. The drive back to my apartment felt too short and I didn’t want the night to end, so I took a chance.

“If you… want to… you can, uh come up to my apartment. Nothinghastohappenthoughifyoufon’twantitto” I rushed through at the end. I could feel my cheeks darken, the wine from earlier also contributing the their rosy shade.

“I would love to.” Harry parked the car and followed my into my apartment. As soon as I opened the door, I kicked my heels off and let out a sigh of relief. I walked into the kitchen and took down two glasses to pour us some more wine. Harry wandered around my small one-bedroom and looked at the pictures and books that littered every conceivable surface. I handed him his glass, and his hand lingered on mine for a moment before he plopped down on the couch.

“Well, s’alright if I end up staying here? Don’t feel like driving anymore and I sense that bottle won’t last long” He said as he took a sip of his wine.

“Yeah, I’ll grab you some clothes if you want to sleep in uh not corduroy pants and some blankets and stuff” I said with a giggle, the wine from the restaurant hitting me as well as the half glass I just gulped down. I grabbed some big shorts that I kept for god knows why and an extra large shirt that I usually used as a smock for house projects as well as a blanket and pillow from my bedroom.

“More wine?” I asked after I set everything down on the floor besides the couch. He followed me into the kitchen nodding his head to indicate another glass wouldn’t hurt anything. Before I could even think about it, Harry’s lips crashed into mine. The kiss was warm and smooth and tasted like pasta with the wine he had just finished. Wine and extra bedding forgotten, we didn’t sleep much that night.

I woke up to Harry singing in the shower, something about sunflowers if I heard him correctly. I rolled over and threw on an old t-shirt from the floor and made breakfast.

I was in the library when I heard the song for the first time. Harry’s new album had come out recently and I had finally had time to listen to the whole thing while I was working on putting loaned books back in their place. It was the song from the shower, but it was on his album. Did he write a whole song about that night? I felt my heart rate pick up. Harry and I hadn’t talked much since that night and hardly at all while he was writing the album. I pulled out my phone and hopped he still had my phone number.

“I listened to the album, it’s so good H. I think my favorite was the one about kissing in the kitchen lol” I sent the message before I could overthink it anymore. My phone buzzed again a couple minutes later and I smiled as I saw who it was from.

“Well I would hope so, wrote the bloody thing in your shower after all.”

[dawnwave16]

dad Bruce Wayne only Marinette doesn't know till she has been shipped off to him thanks to lila's lies. So she has to hide the fact she us ladybug and the new guardion while the bat family have to find the fact they are the bat family Mean while Jason has started a betting pool on when the newest member of the family joins the bat family

Sorry, this has taken so long! While I read a lot of Maribat I’m not very familiar with how they are in canon so I’m not 100% sure if I got this right! I also kinda ran out of insperation near the end so if it feels rushed that’s why. :)

Story:

A bug amoung the bats.

To the staff of the plane, the girl sitting in the window seat just in front of the right wing was quiet and withdrawn.  To her family, she was untrustworthy and a risk to their livelihood.  To those who she used to think of as friends, she was a backstabber and a liar who hid her bullying tendencies behind an innocent face.

The truth was she was none of those things.  Her name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and what she was, was beyond angry.  

She had arrived home after the battle with Miracle Queen only to find her bags sitting for her by the door. Her parents had given her two hours to box up everything she deemed worthy of being sent to her new home as well as any trinkets she might want to take with her in her hand luggage before they had handed her a bus pass, a one-way plane ticket, a letter to her new guardians and told her they could no longer risk having her under their roof so they were sending her to Gotham to be with a family there that could hopefully get her back onto the ‘right path’.

A soft sigh escaped Marinette as she stared unseeingly out the small window.  Slowly a tear rolled down her cheek before she angrily swiped it away.  As if she didn’t have enough to deal with, she thought angrily.  Now she would have to hide the fact that she was Ladybug as well as the newly christened High Guardian of the Miraculous from people she didn’t know.  Who knew how well that would go.  

Another tear escaped her eyes as she thought about how she had been betrayed.  Looking back, she wished she had told Adrien that Lila had threatened her in the bathroom that day.  Or that she hadn’t blindly believed him when he’d said that she would out herself if they took the high road.  She wished she hadn’t tried to deal with everything by herself instead of telling her parents before Lila had gotten to them.  But most of all she wished that her trust in adults hadn’t been completely destroyed by it all.

Now she was alone and heading to a country she had limited knowledge of, where they spoke a language she wasn’t confident in speaking (although she understood more than she could say) and to a city that had more villains than Paris.

By the time her plane landed in Gotham airport, Marinette had a new mask in place.  She refused to let herself be hurt again and if that meant that she had to hide her true nature, so be it.  From now on, the world would see the ice queen she needed to be even if she wasn’t sure how to be one yet. The seatbelt sign flickered off as the captain announced the time and weather conditions before wishing them well as they disembarked.  Marinette took her time gathering all her things and making sure she had everything she might need, to hand.  

The letter from her parents sat in the front pocket of her bag like lead.  The miracle box was in the main compartment of said bag next to a blank sketchbook and a few odds and ends.  She had been too upset to design during the flight. 

Reluctantly, Marinette disembarked the plane and retrieved her bags from baggage claim.  Once she had everything she scanned the waiting crowd for whoever was meant to be fetching her.  Spotting her name on a card being held by a distinguished older gentleman she slowly made her way over to him, trying not to drag her feet despite waiting to.

“Sorry to keep you waiting sir.  I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Marinette introduced herself in stilted high-school english, emotions locked behind a blank mask that would make an assassin proud.

“Oh God, it’s another Demon Spawn,” the man’s companion muttered.  She flicked her eyes over him.  Where the man holding the card was wearing a formal suit and looked neat and representable, the one who had just spoken looked like a biker.  A scuffed brown leather jacket hung open over a black muscle t-shirt.  Ratty jeans held up by an equally scuffed belt covered his legs.  The bottom of said jeans were tucked into well worn combat boots while a white steak in his hair added to the ‘dangerous’ vibe rolling off of him.

Marinette returned her attention to the older gentleman.

“My name is Alfred Pennyworth, Miss Dupain-Cheng.  Welcome to Gotham.  Please ignore Jason, he tends to act before he thinks.” His voice was cultured, Marinette noticed even as she nodded.  When he indicated that she was to follow him, she tightened her grip on her bag  and the luggage trolley and did so silently. 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Jason watched his new sibling closely.  Her face was guarded but her body language screamed that she had been hurt and badly so.  Her stiff posture reminded him of Damian despite her being closer to Tim’s age.  The strange thing was that as far as Jason could see the stiffness seemed to be more of a defence mechanism rather than her true personality.  He sighed, what was it with his family always attracting those that were damaged to the point where they hid?  And why was it that both of Bruce’s biological children were the worst damaged?  Did the universe hate Bruce that much?

Although Jason didn’t know it, Alfred was thinking along the same lines.  

The trip to the mansion passed in relative silence as Marinette pulled out a cell phone and quickly started messaging all of the people that had requested commissions to explain that their orders would be delayed.  Her parents didn’t know about this phone, nor did they know about the fact that Marinette was a very successful designer with an exclusive customer base. They didn’t even know about Edna Mode mentoring her whenever the designer for the heroes had time. They thought she was still trying to get a foot in the door of the industry.  It didn’t help Lila had claimed Marinette was trying to use Adrien as a way to get to his father either.

By the time the trio reached Wayne Manor she had caught up completely.  She had also managed to further freak Jason out with how quiet she was.  As far as he knew teenaged girls were ever this quiet even when they were on their phones.  From what he remembered, girls talked non-stop no matter what.  Well most girls, Cass seemed to be the exception and now, so did Marinette.

The meeting with the rest of the family was just as icily polite as the one she had given at the airport.  All she did was hand an envelope to Bruce before saying she was tired and retreating to the room Alfred obligingly led her to.  Jason turned his attention to Bruce, who had made a strangled sound.

“B?”

“She doesn’t know…” was the choked reply.

“What?” Dick queried in confusion.

“Marinette.  She doesn’t know she’s my daughter.  Sabine never told her.”

“Holy…” Jason breathed while Damian froze.  

Damian had been willing to hate her just because Marinette had a better claim on Bruce due to being older than him but how could he hate her now?  She didn’t know she was Bruce’s daughter at all!

* * * * * * * * 

Over the next three months the bat family discovered very little about Marinette.  She hadn’t reacted as they had expected to the news that she was Bruce’s daughter at all.  Instead of bouncing off the ceiling in excitement she had become even more withdrawn, appearing only for meals and to attend school as was required. 

All of the boys had tried to get closer to her but had been rebuffed which had just added to their frustration too.  Eventually Tim had turned to his hacking skills and what he had found had left him in a cold fury.

“Tim?” Dick asked cautiously.

��Is everyone here?” Tim’s voice was noticeably trembling as he spoke.

“Yes,” Bruce grunted.  He was just as frustrated as his sons.

“Spill already, Replacement,” Jason snorted.

“Right, well apparently our sister wasn’t always this cold.  Judging from the records I’ve  been able to get my hands on she used to be a virtual ball of sunshine.  She was class president, she helped at the bakery, did charity work and bent over backwards from all those she considered to be her friends.  I’m not sure what changed though.  It looks like it was almost overnight that all her ‘friends’ started targeting her over social media, she was expelled but that got repealed fairly quickly, and suddenly she was the class parier.  It doesn’t make sense.”  Tim sighed as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

There was silence for a while before Damian growled and stalked out of the room.  Dick shared a look with the others before running after him.

“What are you planning?”

“Just to get some answers, Greyson.”

The two soon found themselves at the door that led to Marinette’s room and Damian raised his hand to knock.  A sound made him pause, it was almost like a…

“No way, did she just laugh?” Dick breathed.  Soon both boys had their ears pressed against the door.

“Look, Uncle J, I get you want to send Fang after the little bitch but that would just give him indigestion.” Marinette was saying which made the two eve’s droppers eyes widen.  Uncle J? Fang? And did she really just swear?

“Yeah, I know you are angry but really what more could be done?  I tried exposing her lies.  I tried warning the class.  Heck I even tried taking the high road but in the end she won.  I’m now in Gotham and none of those that I trusted to support me are here.  I never thought Tom and Sabine would fall for her lies!  They know I have multiple sketch books and that one of them is inspiration only.  They know the books are colour coded.  So why would they even think I’d copy someone else’s ideas!”  Marinette’s voice was raw with pain and defeat as she spoke which stunned the boys. 

There was a pause as Marinette listened to whoever was on the other end of the call then they heard a loud sigh.

“Do what you feel is best Uncle J.  I just don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive them.  Tom and Sabine raised me yet they still turned on me and sent me away.  I grew up with most of the people in my class yet they still believed that I could bully someone. They turned on me so quickly I almost got whiplash from it.  If that’s the thanks I get for trying to protect them, for trying to make sure they don’t fail to reach their dreams, then I wash my hands of them.  Doesn’t stop it from hurting though.”

Dick and Damian shared a look.  Marinette was chatting away in French but thanks to them learning it they were still able to understand everything.  Slowly they straightened up and made their way back to the batcave to report what they had heard.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  

Marinette closed her eyes as she thought about the last three months.  Bruce had enrolled her in Gotham Academy and she was working as hard as she always did to make sure her grades were as high as possible.  She was pretty sure the whole school thought she was a total snob what with her ice cold attitude to most things but she didn’t care.  The only ones she showed her true self to these days were Edna, Jagged and the clients she had amassed before leaving France, the Kwami’s and her online Boyfriend Roy. 

She had met Roy by chance after attending a masked ball with Edna almost a year after she had started being mentored by the pint sized designer. Roy had tried to wriggle out of having to attend any future balls by behaving badly but Marinette had derailed his plan when she had simply grabbed his ear and told him to either quit his behaviour or she’d deal with him. He had tried to fight back but had found himself hogtied in a measuring tape. Once he had calmed down and Marinette had repaired the rips in his blazer the two had discovered they had a fair bit in common and they hadn’t stopped talking since.

When Jagged had called her to check on her she had decided to give him the full, unedited story. While he hadn’t been impressed he understood where she was coming from. Why should she have to keep fighting to help others when they wouldn’t do the same for her? Marinette flopped backwards on her bed as she thought about everything she’d learned. Bruce being her father had been a shock but it did explain why she had blue eyes. She didn’t care though. The family the man had built showed her he cared about family more than wealth so why hadn’t she known about him beforehand? Why had her mother sent her to him as a punishment? 

A knock at the door had her sitting up and making herself look presentable in a hurry.

“Come in.”

“Marinette? Can we talk for a bit?” Bruce asked her cautiously.

“Sure.” Marinette kept her mask of cold, indifference in place as she replied. “What can I help you with?”

“I know coming here and finding out I am your father was a shock but I was wondering if you could tell me about what happened for you to be sent here in the first place? I will understand if you don’t want to but I want you to know I’m here for you if you do.” Bruce said carefully. Marinette looked over Bruce’s shoulder and saw Tikki and Wayzz nodding incouringly at her. The kwami’s didn’t like how closed off Marinette had forced herself to be but had understood.

“Will I have to change again if I do tell you?” 

“Not change per say, maybe just drop the mask around the family a bit. As much as you are comfortable with anyway.”

Marinette studied Bruce for a moment before making up her mind. She’d tell him about the school issues but there was no way he’d be finding out she was Ladybug anytime soon. Secret identities and all that cam first. 

[wouldpollyapprove]

Edge of London

Request: Hello there! Can i request a sean wallace x reader, where the reader is billy’s friend and one day she takes him back hom cuz he was high so that’s when sean meets her and the family is quiet surprised seeing that she’s so shy and delicate, sean tries to win her but she is insecure and thinks that sean is just too “good” for her, fluffy at the end

Requested by Anonymous

Sean Wallace x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: drugs

A/n: I am kinda in love with this. This was supposed to be longer but once I wrote what I have for this part, I knew there had to be more than one part, so I decided to turn it into a series. I already have part two written and it’ll be up tomorrow. I hope y’all like this and I do have more Sean fics in the works.

Part Two / Part Three

Masterlist

Putting the car in park, Y/n couldn’t help but be intimidated by the townhouse she pulled up to. It wasn’t like it was going to eat her, but it reminded her of all she didn’t have. She’d grown up in a small house at the edge of London that only knew how to fall apart. Her family never had the money to repair much and moving was never an option. Dirt poor, Y/n lived with what she was given, but like everyone, she had always wished for more.

A grumble from the passenger seat brought her gaze back to the man beside her. With a sigh, she rolled her eyes at her friend who was half asleep.

Thirty minutes before parking in front of the brick townhouse, Y/n was woken up by Billy. Normally, she won’t have minded him calling her, the two would often have long conversations about god knows what. But this time was different. It was one in the morning and Y/n had just gotten into bed after getting off work. Working in a pub meant she was always on her feet and with it being a saturday, that meant the place was packed. There was no rest, no moment of peace until she got home.

She wanted to savor what peace she was given, drift off to sleep, and wake up refreshed in the morning. That was impossible when her phone rang, casting the room in light. Picking up it up, she placed it by her ear. “What?”

“I…” Billy drifted off.

Y/n didn’t need him to say much else. There were many times before his family made him get clean that he would call her, high off his ass. It was always her that he called, always her that brought him to her house so he could sleep it off. Never once had she taken him to his house. It was always because of his dad and brother. They were hard on him, that’s what Billy said. They didn’t understand the pressure of being in a family that yearned for success no matter the costs. 

“Where are you, Billy?” she asked, throwing off the blankets and searching her room for warm clothes. Through his incoherent grumbles, Y/n was able to make out the address and was on her way.

If this were before he had gotten clean, Y/n would have let Billy sleep on the sofa at her place, but she knew that after his dad died, he needed his family. There was no way his family could understand him now if he never let them in. From what she knew, they weren’t the most understand, believed he was nothing but sick. But her friend couldn’t get better without the support of his family, she wished for him to get clean, but he needed more than just her support. 

Opening her door, the chilly air ruffled her hair as she walked around to the other side of the car. “Come on, Billy,” she mumbled and opened his door. She helped him up, grabbing his arm and throwing it over her shoulder. With little help from him, they slowly made it to the front steps of the house. He was muttering on about some cat he’d seen at a sushi bar as Y/n tried to get him up the small set of stairs. It was a challenge but they finally made it to the door. Hesitantly, her fingers formed a fist and tapped her knuckles against the hardwood.

If Billy was in his right mind, he probably would have laughed at her for being so nervous, tell her to go right in. But she couldn’t do that. Not when his family knew nothing about her. Y/n was aware the Wallaces trusted few and knew it wouldn’t look good to find a stranger in their house after what happened to Finn. So, there she stood, struggling to keep dead weight standing, waiting for someone to answer the door. It was an ungodly hour, but there had to be someone who would answer.

After a few persistent knocks and Billy telling her to knock the door down, footsteps could be heard from the stairs. The door swung open, a man in sweats, chest bare, stood before her. Angered from being woken up, he looked ready to kill before his eyes landed on hers and, instantly, softened. Y/n gave him a weak smile and nudged Billy forward. “I didn’t mean to wake you, but, um, Billy called me and I didn’t know where else to take him.

For the first time, the man, who Y/n assumed to be Sean, her friend’s brother, noticed his brother. Lips turning down in a frown, he didn’t know what he was going to do. Billy had been clean for so long, he should have known he would relapse after their father’s death. “I’ll take him,” he offered, opening the door further. 

With the weight off her shoulders, Y/n followed behind and closed the door. Sean walked them into the living room, guiding his brother onto the couch. He turned back to Y/n and motioned for a blanket draped over a chair behind her. In silence, she handed it to him. Taking the material, he draped it over his now sleeping brother.

Once Billy was comfortable, Sean gestured towards the dining room as not to disturb his brother. He came to a stop next to the liquor cabinet. Looking at the woman before him, he could see her hands shake from nerves. He hadn’t noticed before, but she was pale in the face, maybe from the late hour or her obvious nerves. There was something about her jitters that made his tough exterior soften, there weren’t many people in his life that aired their anxiety at all. “Thank you,” he smiled. 

She shook her head, wringing her fingers together, “There’s no need to thank me. It’s not the first time I’ve had to do this.” 

Sean glanced back at his brother than to her, face scrunched up in confusion. “Are you two…?” He raised a brow.

A shake of the head answered his question. “No, I’m just the friend who lets him crash on my couch.” A quick glance at her phone told her it was best to leave. She wanted to stay longer, even with her jitters. Sean wasn’t too horrible to talk to or look at for that matter. But remembering the hour brought back all the excuses as to why she couldn’t. He was a rich man’s son and could have any woman in the world. She was Cinderella before the fairy godmother arrived and didn’t need to get her hopes up by believing he would choose her at the end of the story. “I-I should get going,” she met his eye only to tear hers away. “I can show myself out.”

Barely out of the room, Sean called back to her, “I didn’t catch your name?”

She stopped and turned on her heels, “It’s Y/n.”

“Y/n,” he repeated. Mouth open to say something more, he cut himself off when his brother’s friend headed towards the door. He let her leave, the door open and close. Grateful that she brought his brother home safe, he wished she had stayed longer. Not one to show many emotions, he was intrigued. There was something about the woman that pulled him in. Perhaps it was the fact that she was eager to leave or that she didn’t act like anything special.

Sean couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but he knew he had to see her again. Hopefully, with his brother’s help, that could happen. 

*~~*~~*

The next morning, unaware of his surroundings, Billy woke up. There were few memories of the night before, but all of them told him he should have been on Y/n’s couch. He remembered calling her, the poor girl helping him into her car, and a slow walk to a door. In his mind, he believed that was her door, but sitting up, he was mistaken.

She had taken him home.

A snicker came from the opposite side of the room. He turned, frowning when his eyes landed on Sean, who was leaning against the door frame. “Rough night?” his brother teased.

Billy rolled his eyes, stretching his arms above his head. “Don’t bother with the lecture, I don’t wanna hear it.”

With a shrug, Sean pushed himself off the frame, “Wasn’t going to give one,” he stated and walked out of the room. 

That was bullshit. With their father gone, Sean had taken his place when it came to dealing with Billy. Though he didn’t give the same lectures word for word, they all held the same meaning: he wasn’t good enough.

Billy pushed himself off the couch and followed his brother’s footsteps to their dad’s old office. Stopping in the door way, he watched his brother’s every move. “Why aren’t you lecturing me?”

“I think you already know what I’ll say, that should be enough.” He scuffed at his brother’s words.

Folding his arms across his chest, he knew something was amiss. “Yes, because Sean Wallace believes everyone already knows what he’s going to say. Please,” Billy spat. “What do you want?”

Looking up from the paperwork he was searching through, Sean let out a sigh. Of course, his brother knew him well enough to know it was only an act. “Y/n, who is she to you?”

“She’s a friend, why?”

His brother nodded, going back to the task at hand. “She’s not the one supplying you drugs? Is she?”

Running a hand over his face, Billy couldn’t believe what his brother. Stepping in place of their father, Sean could only ever see the worst in people, believe they were hiding behind lies. “No! Hell fuckin’ no! She doesn’t touch alcohol, Sean.” That earned yet another nod. “Why do you ask?” Sean may have been hard to read at times, but he was an open book around his brother. His intentions could be seen when he tensed at the question. “You don’t even know her and you already like her, don’t you? That’s why you’re not yelling, uh? Need me to give my blessing and take you to her?” By the last question, his laughs bounced off the office walls. 

“Well?” Sean asked, brow raised. 

A grin spread across his face, his brother nodded. “Why not?” He shrugged and turned out of the office. From down the hall, he said, “But I doubt you’ll win her over, she doesn’t like pricks.

*~~*~~*

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[darkhymns-fic]

The Stars Pull Us Together

Having recently transferred to Luin Academy, Colette prepares to start on one of her first assignments - which she needs to use the school's own observatory for.

She didn't expect to literally run into Lloyd on the way.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: For Colloyd Week, Day 4: Stargazing! Because I need to write at least one modern au fic of them.

--

It was still early evening when Colette arrived at the observatory, the sun just teetering at the edge of the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink. There were only two of the dome structures, a bit smaller than she expected, just off to the side of the campus grounds and overlooking the undulating hills that made up the Asgard terrain. The autumn season made the air brisk, the wind slightly strong as it tugged at her hair. She had to hug her books close, hunch her shoulders just to withstand the sudden cold.

I just need to get inside, she told herself, feet crunching against the gravel. A hand reached out to the door handle of the first observatory, pulled on it and… found it stuck? Oh…

It took Colette a good minute to realize that this was the wrong observatory anyway, once she saw the construction sign to the left of her, half-hidden in the shadows. Slightly embarrassed, but at least relieved that no one was around to see her blunder, she then walked to the second observatory.

She sensed there was something different here, until she noticed the rows of potted plants that lined the steps and small ledge that circled around the building, from small ficuses to even a charming aloe vera. It was a pleasant spot of greenery over the stark whiteness of the observatory’s walls. There were no construction signs here – unless you counted the little greeting by the small steps (with a small cactus plant placed next to it) that said, ‘Welcome to the Luin observatory! Please watch your step!!!’ The letters looked to be handwritten, and Colette couldn’t help but draw her attention to it, marveling a bit at the multiple exclamation marks…

And by looking at it, she didn’t watch her step at all.

Colette flailed, and by doing so, she had let go of her books to fall to the ground. She was about to crash headfirst into the door until it suddenly opened inward, along with a shout of, “Whoa what-!?”

So she wasn’t the only one at the observatory tonight. 

Papers falling around them like lost wings, a groan beneath her chin, and Colette was ready to faint from the shame of not only falling down, but bringing another person down with her… “Ah… I’m so sorry…” she voiced, blinking open her eyes to find herself inside the observatory now. It was mostly bare except for a few laptops on a nearby desk, a coffee maker to the side, and of course, the great telescope that was in the middle, its end pointing upwards to a currently shuttered roof.

Another groan. “S’okay… I kinda walked into that one anyway.”

The voice was familiar to her. Colette looked to see a guy half-seated, one hand planted against the floor. His plaid jacket caught her eyes on the rich redness of the fabric, reminding her suddenly of winter flurries that would freeze her cheeks, and summer storms that always came by so fast, and how he would try to shield her with a broken umbrella… “Wait, Lloyd?”

He blinked, looking so confused for a moment that she wondered if she was mistaken. But the tousle of brown hair on his head, going off in different directions, told her otherwise. “Hold on a sec… Colette! It’s you!”

“Y-yeah!” When he smiled, she was brought back to the boy with the scuffed sneakers, whose home she’d visit that was off the road, overrun by bramble on the way. “I haven’t seen you since we graduated.”

“Right, like that was what, three years ago?” Lloyd mused on that as he tried to shift upwards, and then couldn’t with Colette still half on him. “Um.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” She giggled as she hurriedly got to her feet, trying very hard to not slip and fall again. She inwardly winced at her laugh, that nervous tic that she could never get rid of, even now. “Guess I’m still a klutz.”

“Don’t worry about it… It’s good, because I’m still catching you!” He laughed too, and the sound brought back even more memories out on the grass, with the sky stretching overhead that, for a brief moment, she was lost in it.

Lloyd looked older, now that she got a better look at him when she wasn’t at a tilt anymore. There was only the hint of a stubble at his chin, but his hair had grown out more, even as it made the same waves that she remembered back from childhood. He wore similar clothes from high school still, with his plaid jackets, his frayed jeans, and his work boots. It was so familiar, that she wondered if maybe they had never separated at all.

“…Colette, you alright?” Lloyd asked her, in a tone that felt comforting all at once. “You didn’t really hit your head, did you…?”

“Ah, no no, don’t worry! I’m still just… surprised to see you!” Her hands clasped each other as she looked up at him, noticing the few inches he had gained in height now. “Does this mean you go to Luin Academy too?”

“Oh, well… about that…” Lloyd’s gaze shifted to the side, and she thought she caught something pass in his expression – that is, until a flying piece of paper smacked him right in the face. “Ack!”

“Oh no, I forgot!”

After a hectic dash of Lloyd and Colette trying to grasp the sheets that had escaped her textbooks, some of them flying far back outside to the second observatory, eventually they’d gotten them all. Or, Colette hoped they did. But at the end, she was shivering and felt a little winded from chasing about various articles that her professor had given her all over the grounds.

“It’s seriously cold out. You don’t have a jacket with you?” Lloyd had latched shut the metal door, leaving them both in the observatory that was basically one mid-sized room with a giant telescope in the middle. Colette noted the metal staircase on the side, leading to the curved ceiling and any other mechanisms that she missed. There was even more of an assortment of plants here, some set nearer the ceiling while others were at the table she sat at. There was the soft hum of a laptop next to her, which she carefully placed her books near. Lloyd was already brewing up coffee, the scent quickly filling the air.

“I didn’t think I’d need it.” Colette shivered in her blouse. Though long-sleeved, the material was still light. She gratefully took the warm mug he handed to her, heating up her palms. “It gets even colder out here than back at home.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Lloyd took a seat next to her easily. “I can give you one of mine if you want.”

“I’m sure I still have the last one you gave me!” She laughed, making sure to swallow her sip of coffee before doing so. Not too hot, not too bitter. In fact, it had a sweetness to it – of vanilla creamer – and she was surprised he still remembered.

“That old thing?” Lloyd asked with such curiosity in his eyes that it made her smile even more. “It’s fine if you wanted to throw it away! Does it even still fit?”

“Yup! It fits me like a blanket still!” And it was true, that old spare jacket that Lloyd had once given her as a joke gift, but she had treasured it all the same. It wasn’t uncommon for her to wear it often when they went to school together, getting stares from other students, but neither caring at all.

She clutched the now half-full mug, looking at Lloyd with a bit of awe. He was holding his, its surface a bit more scratched, but fitting him oddly well. “You know, I thought you went to that other college?” he asked, scrunching his forehead as he tried to remember the name. “The…Spirit…something?”

“The Spiritua University,” Colette corrected kindly. “But, I was having trouble adjusting, so I transferred to Luin instead. Sorry, I think I forgot to tell you that in my last email.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Lloyd rushed a hand through his hair, grinning. “I kinda…forgot the password to that email anyway… Genis was supposed to make me another one but he’s been busy over at Palmacosta.”

“I haven’t talked to him much either.” It had been so many months without seeing her old friends – yet here was Lloyd before her, as if walking straight out of her memories.

Maybe she had been staring for too long – a nervous chuckle from Lloyd, the exact same tone that she remembered from years back. “It’s probably weird to just find me here, huh?”

Colette shook her head. “I don’t think that’s weird. I think it’s lucky that we’re able to find each other again.”

Lloyd visibly relaxed his shoulders. “Heh, you know, I think so too.”

She took her time studying him even more, from his more grown-out (but still messy) hair, to the way he sat on the plastic chair. The lights inside of the observatory were dim, just bright enough for reading, but not too much light pollution to make using the telescope difficult. It felt relaxing being in here, with him.

She remembered his words from earlier, then gently asked, “How come you are here though?”

It only took a moment longer before Lloyd explained himself. “Well… I did actually try to get into Luin. Did the application and everything. I think I wrote the longest essay of my life too. But… my grades really held me back anyway, I guess.”

Lloyd had still been undecided when she left for school back then. He would travel instead, he told her, or he’d take over Dirk’s specialty workshop. She’d never asked him if he’d wanted something else entirely. “I’m sorry.”

“You dork, you’re still apologizing for nothing after all this time?”

“I can’t help it!”

Another laugh, feeling as warm as the dim lights around them. “I don’t think I’m a good fit for it anyway.” Lloyd shrugged, but she saw the grin still on his face, boots tapping the floor in barely concealed excitement. “But you know? One of the teachers read my essay and contacted me! He…kinda kept talking about all the spelling mistakes and junk, until he told me about a side job I could do here. I wouldn’t have to be in classes but he said he’d teach me anyway.”

Even Colette was stunned at this random act of kindness from a stranger. “Really?

“Yeah! And, it definitely seemed a little weird that he just offered, but then I thought, why not? So that’s why I’m here!”

Curious on the story, and having her suspicions, she asked. “Who was the teacher that spoke to you?”

“Oh, it was…” Lloyd scrunched his forehead, but then his eyes lit up, remembering. “Kratos Aurion, I think. Maybe you know him? He really liked what I wrote.”

“He’s my astrophysics professor! I’m actually doing an assignment for his class.” Colette was slowly figuring out what he must have written. She gauged it from where they sat at, from the past nights they’d both lay on the grass of his backyard, matching patterns in the black as much as they could go. “You did always like the stars, didn’t you?”

The same smile she would sometimes think about before she slept beamed at her just then. “So do you. That’s why you’re here, right?”

She nodded, feeling more excited than before – or maybe it was just the caffeine in her system taking over. “And now you work at the Luin observatory. That’s great, Lloyd!”

“Yeah! But uh… I didn’t realize that you basically needed to know math to be an actual astronomer… So I just clean up things here and make sure stuff is working alright. It’s good enough!”

Colette giggled, looking around at the small room, neatly tidied up, just how much coffee he drank in here. “You even got some of your plants here too!”

“Hehe, well at least the ones that at least don’t need much sunlight. So no flowers or anything..”

So natural had they fallen into the rhythm of talking aimlessly like they used to, that Colette nearly forgot why she was here. It took the beeping of her phone alarm – to warn her of the small time window that she had – to jog her memory, as well as Lloyd’s.

“Oh shoot, sorry! You came here to use this thing, didn’t you?” Lloyd quickly got to his feet, downing the cup of coffee in one go, surprising Colette that he could do so while it was still fairly hot. “I may not be smart, but I’ve been learning how to operate these machines. It’s not too hard once you get the hang of it.”

“Ah, well, maybe then…” Colette went to grasp the papers, at the numbers she had written out hastily over the gridlines. “Professor Aurion gave me some coordinates to look up, can you use these?”

She suspected Lloyd wasn’t as bad at math as he claimed. Because when it came to something he really liked, he always did try his best. He looked at where she pointed, then gave her a thumbs up. “You got it.”

Luin’s observatory was a first for her, but she had used such things before. She gathered her notebook in her lap, looking over at the telescope that was bigger than most. It swiveled gently as she moved it to the right, checked over the viewing piece. It was well-maintained, which she had expected.

“Ready?” Lloyd called from the side, hands hovering near a panel.

“Ready!” she called back. Her hands turned the dial of the telescope, and then adjusted the contraption just a bit on its tripod so that it hit the exact angle for her. It was a tall piece of equipment, so she had to perch on a metal seat just underneath to view it properly.

Once the lights dimmed even lower, the ceiling of the dome shifted. She could see it rotate to the coordinates she had told Lloyd of. Another small shake, and then the middle shutter of the dome slowly panned open, revealing the now clear night sky, the blanket of stars up above.

Sometimes it was a gamble when the skies would be good for observing, especially during the cold seasons – but the cold season was also the best time to stargaze too. That was one thing that she remembered from back then.

And looking at the stars had always calmed her.

“Can you see through it okay?”

“Um, just a bit…” She tried to get more comfortable in her seat, but the metal of it was prodding her leg, and soon she knew she had edged out too far to nearly stumble off.

By then, she already felt hands on her shoulders, Lloyd quickly climbing up to join her in the observing seat. “Do you need me to be your seatbelt?”

Colette hoped her happiness didn’t show off too obviously, but his hands felt even stronger too now. “Hehe, maybe for a little while if you don’t mind it.”

She leaned back to the telescope and near the eyepiece, hands gently placed on the handles while she felt Lloyd nearby, keeping her steady.

The night was clear, and the coordinates Lloyd had set the observatory had been right. She didn’t have to get used to any haziness, or peer through a cloudy sky. The stars were so numerous, painted against greyscale, or an old film reel. But she found the cluster she had been looking for, and already set to write down her findings.

“Lloyd, you should see this too!”

“You sure? I’ve looked through it plenty of times this week.”

Colette shook her head, bringing Lloyd’s hands from her shoulders to the telescope. “I think you’ll like it.” She winked at him. “Besides, have you seen it from this spot?”

“Ya got me there.” And like an excited kid, which she had already suspected had never left him, he looked through it too, hands handling the telescope with care and precision. Colette craned her head to look past the instrument to the sky above. While specific nebulae and clusters were hidden from her, the stars to the naked eye were still spread out, like a trail through the dark.

“That’s awesome! That’s the Hercule something, right?”

“The Hercules cluster, yeah!”

It was and yet wasn’t like stargazing out in the fields, with just the crickets and the gentle breeze for ambience. A metal room instead of outdoors, (though the plants helped) and the sky partially blocked from the roof, but she still saw the same light in Lloyd’s eyes – always whenever he would look up at the starry skies.

“So, what did Kratos wanted you to do for this?”

She tilted her head. “You know, it was kind of strange but… he just said I should count the stars here.”

Lloyd turned to her in disbelief. “Huh? Wait… all of these stars? There’s too many! And just plain impossible!”

“He said that too! That an average human lifespan isn’t enough to count every single one…not to mention new ones appear while others fade away.” She tapped her pen against the paper, feeling a smile curve her lips. “But he said we should try anyway.”

“Man… this guy’s weird.”

“Hehe. But he’s very kind. Don’t you think?” Colette took Lloyd’s hand, held it like it was second-nature. “I told him about Iselia. I wonder if he figured out that we knew each other.”

“Huh.” Lloyd gripped her hand back, still half perched on the side of the observing seat, not at all mindful to the height. “He could’ve just asked one of us.”

Colette, feeling more confident then she had in years, scooted a bit from her seat and gestured for Lloyd to come near. “There’s room for both of us here! Maybe if we counted together, we could get it all.”

Lloyd barely hesitated, sitting next to her in only a somewhat tight fit. But she didn’t mind the feel of his jeans pressed against her leg, the scent of him comforting in its familiarity. “I bet I could count more! Though, can we even share the telescope between us?”

“Hmm…we can take turns!” And even as they did at first, giggling as both tried to take their stay at the eyepiece for longer, they eventually leaned back to watch the stars through the open shutter, clear from light pollution and misty clouds.

She had always liked the stars too, she thought, with Lloyd leaning against her shoulder, eyes bright as the night continued, way past the closing hours for the observatory. But now, she knew the exact reason why.

[g0dspeeed]

Unconditional Positive Regard, 4

To finally meet her, Adam Smasher feels relieved. 

Well, kinda.

=====================

Intake

Towering over her with enough girth to block out the sunlight from the street windows was Adam and his dwindling patience. He could feel the hot coals of his temper start to heat up as the terrified receptionist tried desperately to avoid eye contact.

It would be simple, he thought. The only thing that separated his frame from her own was a large desk counter. With one hand he could flip it on her, break some bones and crush her skull if she kept stammering as stupidly as she was.

“Um, do you, do you have the extension number-”

So simple.

“If I don’t know her fucking name, then why would I know the extension number?” he snapped.

“R-Right, um. One, one moment, please, Mr. Smasher, sir.”

Red eyes rolled at her incompetence. Been in the building for less than five minutes and his composure was already diminishing. The receptionist worked quickly on the screen in front of her, her blue optics lighting up intermittently. His glare settled on the frozen form of the other receptionist. She, too, deterred her gaze away from his own and busied herself at her side of the counter.

Pitiful, he thought.

No spine.

“The, the only thing I can see in our calendar is a note about scheduling a future appointment, sir.”

“I know,” he breathed. “Make me an appointment with Services. Now.”

“Oh, we, um, we don’t typically do walk-in appointments-”

“Today you do.”

Adam’s cold stare ended any argument that the receptionist prepared to make.

She pressed a button on a switch board.

“Hi, I have a Mr. Adam Smasher here for a walk-in appoint-Yes, I know that, but he insists to be seen. Well, can you check? He’s at my desk…”

At the receptionist’s rising panic Adam couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Didn’t take much for that fear to kick in. Just a little physical presence and she was malleable to his whim.

A moment later, she ended her conversation and looked up at him with a weak smile.

“They said to wait in their lobby on the Services floor,” she stated.

Without so much as a thank you, Adam turned from the poor woman and headed towards the elevators. He smirked to himself as she exhaled behind him.

Even though the Arasaka Netrunner lacked proper access to the information he sought, Adam wasn’t planning to relent any time soon. For one, the job depended on it. Second, Adam knew that he simply would have to gain intel the more direct way, in an approach that was familiar, easy, and frankly more enjoyable.

Deep, deep, deep in the dark depths of his mind there lied a third reason. A reason that Adam would deny ‘til his dying breath if someone were bold enough to ask. A reason that sounded like curiosity, but actually teetered more so on the line between obsessive and slightly enamored.

But he would never admit that.

Not to a single soul.

The elevator doors opened on the Services floor, allowing the soothing fragrance of flowers to fill his senses. The lobby was empty like before, void of any witnesses as Adam stepped out of the elevator and approached the double doors. There was that same sense of determination in him, one that was resolute on getting this meeting over with and finally answering some of those damned questions that kept him up at night.

However, before he could grab the handle, the doors swung open. Out stepped the same doctor from before, Dr. Estrada, greeting him with that million-eddie smile.

Adam grimaced immediately at feeling the man’s positive attitude rolling off him like radiation.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Smasher,” said the doctor warmly. “May I call you Adam?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’m glad you decided to reschedule. Some of us were worried that you wouldn’t.”

Though annoyed, the doctor’s greeting also brought on a wave of confusion. The words as well as the man’s smile seemed oddly sincere. The doctor’s eyes held a friendliness in them with no hint of any fear or resentment from what occurred in the lobby during their first encounter. Another new kind of interaction, a change that was unsettling to the hardened merc. Those who were on the receiving end of Adam’s wrath seldom stuck around for a round two, let alone approached him with such confidence and genuineness that the man before him showed. Never broke eye contact. Never spoke in a small or mumbling voice laced with anxiety. There was a strong reminder of that initial meeting, however, one that the doctor would have a difficult time hiding. Ugly, purple bruises colored his neck in a pattern that matched the length of Adam’s fingers. His head moved stiffly.

“Have you deposited your weapons into our reservoir?” Dr. Estrada asked. When Adam didn’t respond, his hand gestured towards the reservoir unit and he added, “After they’re deposited, please also turn off your combat cyberware.”

A pause.

Adam squared his shoulders.

“And if I refuse to listen to this bullshit request?” Adam grumbled.

The doctor appeared to contemplate, as if truly mulling over Adam’s question.

“If you choose to refuse, that’s fine. We would have to reschedule for a different date.”

Another pause.

“To be honest,” continued Dr. Estrada, “You could walk in there completely ignoring our request without much issue. Our staff only has defensive cyberware programmed, and not even everyone has the full modifications so there wouldn’t be a lot of resistance. Not really anyone back there has any experience with combat, much less any violence other than that from who we work with, but…”

The man shrugged.

“She still wouldn’t see you,” Dr. Estrada concluded. “She keeps her word, keeps her promises, and when she sets an expectation, she won’t back down. Ever. And that’s just something you’re going to have to get used to, my friend.”

When it became clear that the doctor wasn’t going to offer anything more or elaborate, Adam found himself in disbelief. Again he felt unsettled. The words shocked him in their sincerity and his response, Adam’s own lack of anger or bitterness, was so foreign.

“Who the fuck is she-”

A loud scream cut through Adam’s words, upsetting the peaceful atmosphere of the floor. The doctor’s body stiffened and his hazel eyes lit up as he received new data.

Before the doctor could explain anything, another shriek ripped through the air, this time drawing out longer and with an even higher pitch.

Dr. Estrada’s smile vanished as he quickly exited through the double doors.

The whine of scraping metal echoed beyond the doorway, followed by the floor shaking as if something large and heavy was suddenly dropped.

From his place in the lobby, Adam could hear chaos build and build along the chatter of nervous voices that muttered and called out to one another in hushed tones.

Seeing that it was clear that the doctor wasn’t going to return anytime soon, Adam chose to cross the threshold.

The other side of the doors consisted of a large open space that was attached to several hallways and lined with tall windows. The space itself held many desks with computer screens and office supplies. Adam recognized some of the women from his first visit. Already appearing alarmed by whatever was happening, the sight of Adam Smasher stalking through their office certainly did not alleviate any of their fears. Before he could interrogate them, another scream rang out with enough volume to make him wince. He headed down the closest hall, towards the source of the dreadful noise.

At the hall’s end there was a group of concerned women, Dr. Estrada, and a couple in civilian clothes. The couple was holding hands, both looking more terrified than the others. All stood by an open door. Their postures were rigid.

Dr. Estrada acknowledged Adam as he approached the scene.

Again, before Adam could ask what the hell was happening, another scream cried out followed by a deep, shaky sob.

It was only then did Adam realize that the pained voice was that of a child.

Dr. Estrada motioned for the merc to come closer, though he pressed a finger to his lips as he did so. Adam complied, his eyes peeking into the open doorway to see what the commotion was about.

The room was destroyed. Absolutely torn apart. Books, papers, and other office supplies littered the floor, along with broken glass, a shattered computer monitor, and a large couch completely flipped over and on its side. One piece of framed art hung crookedly above a large dent in the wall, the metal bent and scuffed.

Small whimpers could be heard with breaks of short sobs in between. It was there amongst the wreckage and debris of the office did Adam see two forms huddled behind the flipped furniture. A small child, a girl, stood hiccupping in a pink, frilly dress. Her shoes were gone, but that wasn’t what made her so striking. All of her limbs were artificial, all new and polished chrome.

The girl couldn’t have been any more than five years old.

Her modified hands were gripped into tight fists at her side as she stood before the crouched body of the woman.

Her.

The woman with the golden eyes.

Adam swallowed at seeing her again.

How poorly his memory served in recalling their vibrancy.

Dressed casually in a pair of dark jeans and a graphic t-shirt, the woman spoke calmly to the child.

“You’re very sad that our time is over,” she said. “I see your tears.”

Once more, the girl cried out. Adam winced at the painful noise, but his attention never turned from the woman’s face. The woman did not react at all.

“I hear you,” she stated. “You don’t want to leave, but it is time to go home-”

“No!” yelled the girl. “I-I don’t wanna go home-”

“I know. I hear you, but our special time is over for today. I will see you next week-”

“No!”

The girl’s metal hands then reached out and grabbed the woman’s face. Those in the hallway gasped.

But Adam, without a second thought, stepped forward and completely entered the room.

Both the woman and the child quickly looked up and stared at the large merc as he stood before them.

The child’s anger disappeared, twisting into pure fear at the sight of Adam’s glowering presence. Her small hands detached from the woman’s face as she drew closer to the woman’s body for comfort.

“You’re okay,” chided the woman softly into the child’s hair. “He won’t hurt you.”

“He looks mean,” argued the girl, her wide eyes never turning from Adam’s scowl.

“He does,” agreed the woman, a hint of amusement in her own voice. “But know what else I see?”

With a raised finger, the woman pointed to Adam’s exposed arms.

“This man has a body like yours,” shared the woman tenderly. “See his arms? See his head? See his face? Some of his body is different, too, and that’s okay.”

She winked at Adam playfully. His scowl, though still very much present, weakened slightly at the unexpected act.

“Its time to go home,” the woman repeated, this time a firm tenor to her words. “You can choose to walk with me to the elevator or your parents can help you. You have a choice.”

Stare never leaving Adam, the child nodded her head and took the woman by the hand. As if leading her away from danger, the child pulled at the woman’s hand with a new urgency. The woman mouthed for Adam to wait in the room as she rejoined the others in the hall. The door closed behind them.

Mentally, Adam was already kicking himself over how easy it was for his focus to be deterred, let alone how he reacted to seeing her in person again. Why he decided to insert himself in the chaos with the child, he had no clue. Didn’t give a fuck about children. So long as they stayed the hell away from him, there would be no issue. But something disturbed him in seeing how the child grabbed her, how the woman contained the pain she felt in the child’s sudden hold on her face.

The woman’s words and how they were said weren’t lost on Adam either. Not one bit. How this woman was able to deescalate tense situations and how similar her dialogue with the child was to their own exchange in the lobby infuriated him.

Is that how she perceived him?

Like that of a child?

“Sorry about that.”

Angry red eyes fell upon the woman as she closed the door behind her and began tip-toeing through the mess in the office. A small smile touched her full lips as she went to stand behind a metal desk.

“Sometimes its hard to go,” she continued with a shrug. “And although I appreciate your desire to help, please don’t interfere next time.”

Adam scoffed.

“I’ll do what I want.”

Sensing his attitude, the woman’s smile flattened into a pressed line.

“Yeah, I know, Adam,” she returned. “I know that you’ll do whatever you want. Which is why I’m glad you decided to come back so we can go over how exactly this all will work out.”

“’Bout fucking time,” he groused.

To his surprise, the woman scoffed and shook her head.

Adam immediately crossed the room to stand over her. He savored how far she had to crane her head up to meet his eyes.

“Something I say amuse you?” he challenged darkly.

What he expected was her instant submission.

What he expected was her to avert her eyes like everyone else, to deny she did anything or apologize altogether, and to wait for his next command.

What he didn’t expect was what came next.

“Yes, actually,” she stated, not even hesitating to pay back his hard stare with one of her own. “Yes, I find it amusing that you’re so inconvenienced by your own stubbornness and are trying to blame me for it. You had the choice to cooperate with our policy and chose to strangle my colleague because we held up our expectation, then you have the nerve to come into my workplace, my office, demand for an appointment, and then proceed to complain because of the stalling that you yourself created. Does this normally work for you? This whole standing-over-me-tough-guy routine? Because I can do this all damn day. I really can. Know why? Because I do do this all damn day, but last I checked we both are pretty busy adults and I’d like to not have my time wasted by your outdated ways of handling things. Or is this some kind of foreplay to you?”

Oh.

Oh, where was he to begin with that?

It took every ounce of patience and self-control to not pick her up and shove her against a wall. No one spoke to him like that. No one questioned him the way she did, whether there was some truth to her words or not. Fortunately for her, she was named as a person of importance to Arasaka. Fortunately for her, there were still many questions that she held the answers to, her value in that light being the only reason she still breathed and was alive to argue with him.

“Who,” he began, his voice low and tightly controlled. “The fuck are you?”

A smile, one that hinted at some little victory, he figured, one that somehow made Adam even angrier, pulled at her lips.

“Bothered you, didn’t it?” she said. “Thought it would. You’re not used to waiting-”

“Answer me-”

“I’m Lumen,” she answered. “Dr. Lumen Furi.”

Not bothering to wait for his reply, the woman stepped away from the desk and began tidying up the office. Adam watched as she began making small piles of all the trash and debris, his anger still very much pulsing through his body. Anger from how she was talking to him, how she dared to tease him and make smartass comments in response to his voiced frustration. That anger was there, true, but more so was Adam upset with himself for how he allowed it and how learning her actual name brought some relief.

“The contract,” began Lumen. “Is one that I don’t really like.”

“What is it?”

A sigh.

Her face wore a look of disdain as she turned to speak to the merc.

“I’m conducting research on cyberpsychosis and crisis intervention,” she said. “I want to know if mental health crises are related to cyberpsychosis and even though I think it is, its 2070 and people still think that it’s just a hardware problem. They’re not looking at it seriously, at least not from a mental health standpoint, so I need hard data to prove my theory. And that’s where you come in.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Myself, Dr. Estrada, and some of the other researchers will be working with law enforcement and a Trauma Team convoy to provide crisis support to different neighborhoods in Night City. As you can imagine, it can be pretty risky work and we’re sorta ‘ride alongs’. Trauma Team has enough on their plate and covering our asses isn’t something they need to be concerned about. Arasaka is already backing our research, so-”

“Why?”

She shrugged.

“I guess they want in on the medical market? Not entirely sure. Don’t really care. What I do know is that they offered your services to aid in our groundwork.”

“In security.”

“Yep.”

“For how long?”

“Three months, once or twice a week, depending on the city region and time of day. Starting next week now that you decided to show up.”

His tempter bristled at the snarkiness in that last comment, but he decidedly shifted his focus to the contract instead. The jobs that he detested the most were that of security or protective services. He’d prefer that the only ass he cover was his own, and often the target was too slow, dumb, or fragile to make his job any easier. Although the woman appeared to be in good shape and proved her intelligence in their limited interactions, her ability to defend herself wasn’t clear, not yet. If anything, all she proved to him was that she enjoyed throwing herself in the middle of dangerous situations, a trait that wasn’t valuable to her new bodyguard.

“Fine.”

The word caused the woman to perk up. The sight entertained him.

“But I have limits,” he added. “Hard ones. And if you refuse to abide by them, you’ll either die or this contract is null.”

Her arms crossed, but she looked at him with expectation.

“Going to teach you some basic self-defense so you don’t get yourself killed. Until you do that with me then I won’t allow you to go into the field. Period. Next, I want to know what cyberware you do have and outfit you with defensive cyberware should anyone get too close.”

“Isn’t that your job?” she quipped. “To make sure no one gets ‘too close’?”

“Something tells me that you’ll fuck it all up and I’m not about to let you ruin this for me.”

He caught it. Small, but he saw that flash of rebellion, that grain of resistance, before she checked herself and pursed those lips shut.

“Last,” continued Adam. “You get a tracker.”

“Why-”

“Because I fucking said so. That’s why.”

The two stared at one another with enough intensity to start a fire. She didn’t balk at his stature, nor at how harshly his eyes took her in.

“Might I suggest a compromise?” she questioned.

“I don’t do compromises-”

“Humor me.”

When he didn’t argue, she resumed.

“If I have to have a babysitter, then I also would like a tracker for you.”

“What good-”

“Because I fucking said so.”

At that, Adam couldn’t help himself. He stomped towards her with enough force that she stepped back, pressing herself against the desk. His frame enveloped hers, all black camouflage and large arms caging her in on either side of her hips. Sitting on top of the desk, she gaped with wide eyes up at the furious mercenary, his face inches from hers as he towered over her body in muted rage.

“This is my job, my fucking ass on the line, and I’m not letting anyone, anybody, fuck up all the shit I had to do to get where I am,” he declared, voice shaking. “I don’t give a shit about who you think you are, I’m the one who says how this contract will go. Me!”

That’s it, he thought, his eyes unashamedly studying every curve and how that primal fear shattered that confident front of hers.

That’s what he liked to see.

The fear.

The uncertainty.

He got drunk on it, finally, the sight of her weakness, the proof that she was like everyone else.

Standing so close to her body, Adam picked up on the deep notes of her perfume.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled, a new lowness coating his voice. His body shifted to stand more directly between her knees, causing her legs to spread. “Is this that ‘foreplay’ you were bitching about, Lumen?”

No response came from her at first.

Nothing.

Nothing new for him to be challenged with.

Nothing special.

But just as he felt that familiar burst of empowerment swell in his chest, the woman did something to instantly snuff it out.

Gently.

Kindly.

With a soft hand, the woman reached up and cupped Adam’s face. His own hand shot up to grip her wrist, a hard warning. It was ignored. Completely ignored as her thumb lightly stroked his cheekbone with an easy slowness. He swallowed.

As his smirk fell as did the look of uncertainty from her own face. Golden eyes glittered with something warm, something that Adam couldn’t quite define. A raw energy hummed between them as she held him there, held him in a paradoxical space of peace and a primal urgency to do something more.

A small smile.

“I love your eyes,” her voice said in a near whisper. “Red. They fit you.”

Just as his mouth parted to reply, an incoming call crossed his HUD. Adam moved away from her and the desk as if her hand burned. Her smile remained as he answered the call, the client on the other end simply informing him that he was running behind and would be late to their scheduled appointment.

“I’ll see you next Wednesday,” stated that woman above the sound of the client’s words. “You can go.”

And that he did. Adam held his composure, but never has he left a client as quickly as he did that that day.

[smuckersblr]

Crybaby parody part 2

I’m back stinkies! Here’s your starker for the day, better eat up because this the last part<3

"Fuck you, Barnes, I do have more taste than you, remember the last guy you fucked? Yeah, he wasn't even a 4 outta 10!" Peter growled, waving his hands for dramatic effect, Bucky's arm around his shoulders falling and then going right back to their resting place once his flailing seized. "I'm just sayin' Pete, I don't like the guy, he doesn't really fit your type." Peter looked around his friend group, wide-eyed and waiting for people to rush to his side to defend him. But all he got was silent nods with avoided eye contact. "My type? My type! What the hell do you mean by "my type"."

 Wanda scratched the back of her head and awkwardly made eye contact. "You dated a guy who was a professional underground fighter who was covered in tatts." Natasha stepped in, once Peter looked in her direction. "Yeah, remember that one time you had that fling with that mafioso kid?" Bucky laughed and pulled Peter closer to him. "So basically me." Peter pulled back from Bucky's grip, shaking his head in disbelief, and laughed at his friends. "You guys are insanely right, but that doesn't mean I'm not allowed a little range in the men I choose to date." 

The diner was scattered with the usual squares near the windows doing everything in their power to ignore the crybabies that evaded their space. Peter stirred his milkshake absently, a lost look on his face that didn't suit him well. Bucky, sitting at his claimed spot right next to Peter, brushed Peter's cheek with the hand connected to the arm that was wrapped around the teens' shoulders--trying to bring Peter's focus back to his friends. Then there was Wanda and Natasha, both in front of them and Sam at the diners front counter, trying to flirt up with the waitress working in that area. "Let's just change the topic." Peter mumbled under his breath, sulkily sipping his milkshake and ignoring Bucky's laughter and that imposing arm wrapped around his shoulders. Peter only allowed Bucky to be touchy with him because that was just Bucky, it was his love language and they've been friends since diapers. "Ok well since Peter's got a thing for a square, I guess it's only fair that I admit that the tall blonde is pretty attractive." Natasha said offhandedly, picking up a french fry and eating it with an argue-with-me-I-dare-you look. Wanda nodded with the same look and Bucky scuffed. "The dude is a total ass, sure he's an 8 but he can't even stand being near me even when I have no other choice since dumbass Mr. Braxton sat us together." Peter looked away and tapped his fingers against the dark wood of the table, "Well that's because any sane person can't stand an hour sitting next to you without getting a little agitated." the girls laughed loudly, Peter bit his lip to hide his smile that was slowly growing. Bucky gaped at Peter and huffed, pulling his arm away from Peter and pouting to himself and his burger. "I'm not agitating, you are." was his lame comeback, which made Peter pity him enough to give a pat to the big guy's bicep. "You know I'm kidding Buck, I can't stand an hour away from you and you know it." Peter cooed while leaning on Bucky with a pouty lip and big eyes. Bucky tried to hide his smile and coughed to hide his laugh. The girls were still cackling by the time Sam came back over to their table, making Wanda scoot closer to Natasha so he could sit on the edge. "What'd I miss? What's Bucky bitching over now?" Sam looked around at his friends, purposely ignoring the death glare from Bucky. "He's just butthurt that Peter said it's agitating to be around him for an hour." Wanda stirred her salad poking at a crouton. "He's not wrong." Sam shrugged and reached over Wanda to steal some fries from the middle. "Says the guy who got kicked outta fifth period because he couldn't shut up." Peter blocked out the rest of Bucky's and Sam's bickering once his attention had snagged on one fellow student across the diner. It was just the back of the teen's head, but Peter knew that group who sat with that teen from anywhere, it was Tony. which was startling to say the least, because instead of the usual baggy formal clothing he would always wear to school, was a leather jacket of all things and his signature neatly gelled hair, was now a messy nest. It gave him a "just had sex and didn't bother to fix my appearance" kinda look. Peter loved it. "Uh, I gotta pee." Peter's abrupt voice made the conversation his friends were having pause, Nat giving him a weird look. "Okay..." Bucky took his arm off its resting place and he stood up to allow Peter out from the corner of the booth.

Peter didn't bother pretending to head towards the bathrooms then sneak back out to discreetly say hi to Tony. He made a bee-line to the squares table. The conversation at hand was terribly nerdy, but the person who was mid-rant about some video game(Bruce?) stopped his rambling. The guys' eyes were saucers once Peter made it behind Tony. the whole table setting their sights on him. The last pair though were the ones Peter only sought out. "Hey, Pete." Peter's heart fluttered like a damn damsel, he bit his lip and held his hands behind his back coyly. "Hey Tones, lookin' good I see you've taken my comment to heart." Tony knew the reaction he would receive from Peter already, but the actual visual of Peter fucking Parker blushing and biting his lip like a coy schoolgirl was a fucking treat of its own. "Yah well I thought it was time for a change in the wardrobe." Steve who sat beside Tony tried hiding his laughter with a cough behind a fist, his other friends also not buying Tony's false nonchalance. "I love your hair too, looks...." Peter reached out one hand and combed his fingers through the brown strands before saying: "Sexy.".

"Really? I thought it was giving me very much... homeless man chique." Rhodey snickered, the other two idiots laughing at his jab. Tony turned around sharply and gave his best death glare to the idiots. "Shut it." He tried to discreetly hiss under his breath, but of course, Peter heard and to Tony's horror, joined in his friends' laughter. "Oh great now you too?" Tony moped, crossing his arms on the table and laying his head down on them, hiding his embarrassment. "No, no, Tony I'm sorry I just-" Peter couldn't finish talking without another fit of giggles coming out. "You can't lie to me Tony, that was pretty funny," Tony grumbled to himself, trying to play out his little moping sesh even when Peter sat in the empty chair next to him. But he couldn't ignore Pete any longer once he felt him lock his arm around his own. A tuft of hair tickling the side of Tony's face, and then the butterflies started. "Forgive me, Tony." Peter whined, rocking Tony side to side from shaking his arm. "No it's too late, you hurt my feelings." Tony sat back in his chair once more and looked in the opposite direction from Peter, trying to tune in his friends' conversation that slowly started up again in the midst of their teasing. "Tony~!" Tony was really trying here, he only had so much willpower in him when it came to Peter. "Nope, I've already decided that I can't forgive you." Peter humphed and crossed his arms, sagging in the chair he had claimed as his. Then an idea struck. Peter had gotten close once more, this time whispering into Tony's ear: "What if I kissed you to make it better?" and Peter knew he had won this little game they were playing, right when he felt Tony tense up and slowly looked over to Peter. God did he just want to devour him right there and then, but no, Tony didn't want their first kiss in front of all his square friends. As cheesy as it was, he wanted their first kiss on their first date. "Go out with me." Tony knew Peter was taken aback at this, but there wasn't any hesitation with his answer. "Okay..."

-------

Their first date was a fiasco to put it shortly. Tony had the idea to go out at the local movie theatre in their town, he knew there was going to be a scary movie playing that night, which in his mind equaled discrete hand-holding and maybe a make-out session halfway through the movie. And of course, that didn't go to plan once they walked through the rows to try and find their seats, apparently, it was packed that night, and to his luck, the theater was filled with Crybabies. Peter had told him it was fine, he would make sure they didn't say anything stupid to Tony, but sadly that wasn't the problem. The problem was that there was someone constantly putting their feet on the back of Tony's seat throughout the first half of the movie. Tony's hand was sweaty so he couldn't hold Peter's hand like he originally wanted to. They had also gotten candy along with their popcorn and Tony totally forgot that kissing someone with chocolate breath is so not appealing. So to say their first date was a shit show would be putting it mildly.

But Tony should've known that Peter would make things better than they turned out that night. On the way home Tony's hand was taken off the wheel and settled on Peter's thigh by Peter's own doing. Tony had given his thigh a squeeze and didn't remove his hand from its place until he stopped in front of Peter's house. Tony being the gentleman he was, walked Peter to his front door, rubbing his (still) clammy hands on his shirt before Peter turned around to face Tony once more. And that was when the night had turned around from being a failure to a semi-amazing-but-totally-amazing first date. Peter had leaned in and kissed Tony's cheek, of course not without plastering the front of his body to Tony's. Tony stood there that night, holding Peter against him. Not wanting to let go and having to wait a whole night before being able to see him again. And then... "My parents aren't home."

It was like TV static in Tony's head, his whole body freezing up, then relaxing in a split second. "Oh.." was all Tony dumbass Stark could say to that. But amazingly, he got inside the house with Peter, being led straight to Pete's room where Tony would never admit out loud that he was dreaming to see. "Sorry about the mess, Natasha was helping me find my outfit for tonight." Which made sense once you saw all the clothes strewn out on Peter's bed. Peter's unmade bed, wow Tony's good-boy side is showing. "It's fine, it smells nice in here." What the fuck! Tony mentally face palmed himself and immediately wanted to die and never face Peter ever again.

"Why thank you, Mr. Stark, you know your compliments mean a lot to me." Peter grabbed Tony's hands and pulled him deeper inside his room. The moon's glow gives Peter's face a beautiful pale blue glow that makes Tony's heart stop for a second. "Really? I'd assume you get them often." Peter smiled and turned around, messing with the records that sat next to a dusty blue record player. "Sure I do, but their words mean nothing compared to your's Tones," A soft lilt of trumpets slowly started along with violins. Peter gave a little twirl and toed off his shoes before slowly waltzing towards Tony. "Your words set my skin on fire," His arms reached out, the devilish smile on his soft lips never dropping along with his hips that swayed side to side. "Your voice makes my heart stop," He placed Tony's hands on his hips, reaching for his shoulders and laying his head against his collar bone. "You make me feel brand new, Tony..." Tony didn't realize he was slow dancing now with Peter, his mind was currently reeling with Peter's own confession. He might love Peter. "Stop, before you make me fall for you, then you won't be able to get rid of me." Peter's soft laugh was muffled by Tony's rumbled shirt, "Who says I wanna get rid of you? What if I want you all to myself?" Tony didn't know what to say for a second, the song carried on to fill the silence between the two slow dancing in a dark bedroom that smelt like tulips. "Then you can have me."

(A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this! I think imma end this lil short story here since i dont really like the idea anymore and sorry about it taking a while, I had no more brain juice left in me:(  But get ready for more stories to come!!

[sleepingrenjun]

nervous | ML

the gorgeous banner was made by the one and only @hyuckiebabie

Genre ♡ angst, badboy!Mark Lee 

Length ♡ 16.9k

Pairing ♡ Mark Lee x reader

Warnings ♡ character death, violence, making out, mild swearing, mild alcohol consumption, kinda mafia, uhh shitty parents? Basically just angsty badboy!Mark, it’s rather tragic I do apologise.

Playlist ♡ nervous playlist

Summary ♡ You find yourself falling deeper and deeper into Mark’s fiery touch despite the dislike you once felt for him. But Mark Lee is dangerous and nefarious despite his gentle desire to love and protect you; the two of you are star-crossed and you will forever be damned into the very pits of hell.

-

Your clothes were beginning to stick to your skin, the rain blurring each and every neon sign into one big mess of colour against the onyx canopy of the sky above the city. The faint sound of cars screeching along distant streets could only just be heard over the music blaring through your earphones. You stumbled ever so slightly against the sudden outcry of wind as you rounded a corner and looked up through your lashes to see the refreshingly familiar street which housed your favourite late night coffee shop. You looked down again in order to give your cloudy eyes a break, eyeing your slightly scuffed, and now very soggy converse as you trudged a little further until you made it to the door of your beloved safe haven.

 You used your right shoulder to help you push the heavy door open, relieved to see that the lights were still on. You pulled your earphones out, shoving them into your tote bag unceremoniously.  

 “Oh hey, y/n,” you looked up to see Donghyuck smiling sleepily at you from his position behind the counter as he raised his golden hand in a small wave.

 “Hi Hyuck,” you threw a lopsided smile in his direction before carefully drying the soles of your shoes on the mat which lay before you.

 “It’s a little late for you, is everything okay?”

 “Yeah, yeah, I just got caught up with uni work, I guess,” you tell him as you take your phone out of your soaking wet hoodie pocket, before tapping on the screen, thus confirming that it was indeed later than you had realised, 10:53pm. He hummed in understanding as he continued to steam-clean the tea cups which sat on the polished granite in front of him.

 Donghyuck studied at the same university as you and so he understood that sometimes the workload would cause you to spend hours on end in the dusty, old university library situated on the top floor of the main building. His major was in English literature, and if he wasn’t in the coffee shop working then he could often be found studying with his nose buried deep in a coffee-stained book with his exhausted round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Donghyuck was lovely, in every sense of the word. His strawberry blonde hair looked gorgeous against his honey-stained skin. He was warm and flamboyant and just, quite simply, alluring. His raspberry-stained lips were soft and full, just as his cheeks were. Donghyuck was the type to wear tight black jeans paired with an eccentric, ill-fitting jumper and a pair of beaten up doc martens, yet he wore it so well.

 You weren’t exactly friends, but you had a sort of routine. You confided in eachother more often than you liked to admit, but only inside the safe environment of his workplace, you didn’t really speak at any other time. Every Thursday, without fail, you would stop by to order a latte from the lonely coffee shop that he worked at. You were studying fine art, which meant you had to spend a lot of time at the university, whether it was using the studios for various workshops, or losing yourself in copious amounts of books in the library in order to help you write extended essay after extended essay. With that said, it was usually between 7 and 8pm when you stopped by to order your coffee on your way home, hence Donghyucks concern.

 “The usual?” he spoke up after a moment of tranquility.

 “Mmm, please,” you hummed in response as you fiddled with the slippery metal of the rings on your fingers while you waited for the coffee you had been looking forward to for several hours prior. You took out your money and left the correct amount by the till and then proceeded to make your way quietly over to your usual round table before flopping down languidly, the table was situated by the window, allowing you to watch the world outside go by peacefully as you tapped your nails along the surface of your phone screen restlessly.

 The coffee shop was warm and cozy, the smell of coffee beans welcoming anyone into the glowing space. Your weekly visits were something that you looked forward to now, although you did sometimes make an appearance at other times, Saturdays, for example. Occasionally you popped in for a cup of tea in the morning and engaged in polite conversation with Taeyong, the owner of the place. Taeyong was delightful, in a different way to Donghyuck, though. He was sharper and had a witty sense of humour to match the bubblegum shade of his hair. He was kind and wise beyond his years and so much more – but you didn’t have the same unspoken understanding with him that you had with Hyuck. Perhaps that’s why you looked forward to Thursdays, Donghyuck understood you without even trying, as did you with him.

 Donghyuck slid the disposable cup onto the table in front of you, snapping you out of your daze.

 “Thanks,” you smiled up at him before you realised that he was, in fact, now sitting opposite you at the table, with a coffee of his own in hand.

 “What’s on your mind, princess?” he asked you with a cheeky smile as he leaned back into the chair before sipping a little of his coffee. You chuckled at the nickname and hummed as you thought of how to reply.

 “I’m just exhausted, Hyuck,” you said as you let your head flop softly onto the rough wooden surface of the table before closing your eyes gently.

“Uni deadlines are exasperating; my parents are driving me mad and I just really need to sleep” you breathed out drowsily as you peered up at the boy through half closed eyes.

 “Yeah, I feel the same. Uni has me really stressed too,” he cupped his steaming coffee with both hands and leaned across the table, “what’s up with your parents, though?” he squinted at you, genuine curiosity adorning his friendly face.

 “Just the usual, you know,” you sighed after taking a long gulp of coffee, not feeling up to explaining everything to him at 11pm on a Thursday. Donghyuck vaguely knew about your relationship with your parents, if you could even call it that, although you liked to avoid bringing your friends into that side of your life; you weren’t proud of it.

 “Care to elaborate, princess?“ Your reply was soon cut off by the sound of the front door opening suddenly and the fierceness of the storm outside immediately filled the peaceful room, the sound of the ‘open’ sign hitting against the wall alerting you to the fact that you were no longer alone in the coffee shop.

 You looked up in surprise and proceeded to try to fix your composure at the realization that the person who had entered the premises was none other than Donghyucks best friend; Mark Lee. The two were polar opposites. While Donghyuck was late nights by a crackling fire and cups of steaming hot chocolate, lazy afternoons spent surrounded by blankets and makeshift pillow-forts and summer evenings spent reading during the golden hour. Mark Lee was everything that Donghyucks general aura protested against – he was burning hot embers and cigarettes, sunrises and motorbikes screeching along empty streets at 4am. Mark Lee was cold yet hotheaded and harsh and a lot to take in. You had only seen him from a distance, picking Donghyuck up from the university on the back of his bike. The two were so different but they were the best of friends and it baffled you.  

 “Hyuck, what the fuck is taking you so long? Let’s go-,” he voiced as he ran his hand through his damp hair and shook his head a little, completely ignoring your presence. He was clearly irked about something, his eyes were dark, black almost, and he was clutching his bike helmet under his arm tightly. Hyuck looked across the room to the vintage clock which was perched just above the coffee machine behind the counter, before muttering a profanity to himself and looking up at you with apologetic eyes.

 “Shit sorry y/n, I completely forgot, I was meant to close up 10 minutes ago,” it was nearing 11:15pm now.

 “Oh yeah, it’s fine, I should probably get back home anyways” you offered in acceptance before tearing your eyes away from the two boys in front of you to look out of the window at the storm you would have to brave once more. Mark cleared his throat as he made eye contact with you for the first time,

 “are you two done now or…?”

 Mark opened the door, a subtle hint that he was leaving and that Donghyuck should hurry up if he wanted to accompany him to wherever the two were off to at this hour. You scoffed as you took in his appearance, his damp, jet black hair was falling into his eyes in soft curls, his tanned skin was wet, and the neon yellow hoodie he wore under his signature leather jacket had darkened by at least two shades from the rain, as had the black skinny jeans which were tightly clinging to his legs.

 “Will you be okay to get home?” Hyuck asked you as he turned off the coffee machine and motioned towards the door with a light tilt of his head. You nodded and replied with a “yeah” as you swiftly picked up your takeaway coffee cup and headed out the door which mark hadn’t managed to hold open for you. Hyuck followed you out after turning the lights off and grabbing his own helmet, locking the doors behind you. You nodded towards Donghyuck, turning away from the boys you clutched your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep warm as you walked in the direction of your shared apartment.

 “See you, y/n.”

 You turned your head and waved in return at Donghyuck who was smiling at you as he put his jet-black helmet on whilst he leaned on the back of Marks motorcycle. Mark offered you a smirk as he took a long drag from his cigarette before dropping it to the floor and putting out the glowing stick with a swift movement of his foot, his tattered black converse catching your eye. You continued forward in the torrential rain and not a minute later you could hear the revving of the engine as Mark and Donghyuck pulled away and sped past you, Mark deliberately not avoiding the growing pool of floodwater on the street next to you, splashing dirty water at you in the process. “Fucking fantastic,” you groaned in exasperation.

 -

 It was the following Tuesday when you next saw Donghyuck with his best friend in tow. You were packing up your things after a long day in the library, sneezing and sniffling every so often; you had managed to catch a rather bad cold after walking home in the pouring rain last Thursday. You had just turned around after placing your last book in your beaten-up bag when you heard Donghyucks contagious laughter coming from your left, he and Mark were walking towards you and away from a small group of three boys you often saw Hyuck hanging around with between classes, you weren’t sure of their names. Mark was once again holding on tightly to his helmet as he mumbled something to the velvety boy beside him and ran his other hand through his disheveled hair.

 You fished your phone out of your pocket and turned it off airplane mode before stuffing it back into your pocket and looking up, just in time to hear your name being spoken from a few feet away.

 “Hey! y/n!”, Donghyuck exclaimed, looking surprised to see you, “you got home okay then? On Thursday?” he queried, stopping before you, causing Mark to roll his eyes at his friends genuine concern.

 “Yeah thanks, Hyuck. What are you guys doing here?” you chuckled in reply, it wasn’t unusual for you to greet him in the library as you both spent a fair bit of time there, Marks appearance, however, was a little less common.

 He was obviously there to pick Donghyuck up, probably just to take him home or to a party or something; what was unusual was that he didn’t usually come inside. If you ever saw him at the university, he would be leaning against the outside wall, by the doors, often holding a cigarette in one hand and his phone in the other. He was a couple of years older than you, only a year older than Donghyuck, and although you knew that he had graduated from the same institution that you attended, you didn’t know what his major was, not that you particularly cared. Your train of thought was interrupted by Donghyucks reply,

 “Oh, Mark just needed to talk to Jaemin about something,” he gestured towards his friend, who was clearly already bored with your conversation.

 Just as you were about to speak, your phone started ringing. You took a deep breath once you saw the caller ID, before picking it up and holding it to your ear.

 “Dad?” you breathed out, his timing could not have been worse. You had a complicated relationship with your parents; your father was controlling to say the least, and it frustrated you to no end.

 “So, you finally decided to pick up the phone then?”, he greeted you harshly. “I’m sorry, I’m in the library, my phone was off,” you offered him an apology, hoping it would suffice. You looked down at your shoes and wrapped your free hand around your waist, turning away from the two boys who were waiting patiently before you, hoping to gain some privacy for what would most likely not be an enjoyable conversation with your father.

 “You’re always sorry, it’s not good enough y/n,” he complained, “anyway, I called because I need to ask a favour from you.” He only ever called you when he needed something, and he certainly wasn’t one for pleasantries, he always found a way to try and make you feel bad about yourself – although you’d grown a sort of immunity to it now that you knew what he was trying to do. You remained silent, signaling for him to go on, “your mother and I are hosting a dinner party tonight” you place your hand on the back of the chair in front of you, “and we expect you to attend, can you be at the hotel for 7pm?”

 Your grip on the chair tightened to the point that your knuckles were beginning to turn white, you looked at your watch and groaned softly so that he wouldn’t hear, it was already 6:47pm. “Dad I don’t think-“ you started, knowing perfectly well that you wouldn’t be there on time – it was nearly a 40 minute walk to your parents’ hotel from the library.

 “Great! See you then, don’t be late!” he cut you off, not allowing you the time to tell him that you wouldn’t make it for 7 before he ended the call. “Jesus Christ,” you exclaimed as you let your iron grip on the chair go, moving the same hand to push your hair out of your face.

 “Is everything okay?” you turned around to see Donghyuck and Mark both staring at you in confusion.

 Your parents frustrated you a lot. They could never be bothered to make time for you but the second they had the opportunity to use you to their advantage, they would milk it. Your father loved to patronize you and put you down while your mother loved to brag about all the wonderful things you were supposedly doing, she loved to make you sound like their perfect child, when really, they were nothing but disappointed in you. They were disappointed in your art major and disappointed that you chose not to intern at your fathers’ company – you wanted as little to do with his illegal activities as possible - so disappointed that they actually felt the need to lie about practically everything you did.

 “Oh, yeah I just-,” you paused, trying to clear your head and come up with a way of fixing the mess you were about to get into, “sorry but I have to go, I have to be somewhere in like 10 minutes and it’s a 40 minute walk so-,” you rushed out, panicking as you grabbed your bag, flung it over your shoulder and proceeded to walk quickly down the hall towards the staircase. You didn’t make it very far however, as Donghyuck managed to grab your wrist and turn you around.

 “Hey, wait!” he exhaled deeply, “do you need a lift? Mark can give you a lift, right?” he suggested, turning to his friend in question.

 Mark looked as horrified as you felt at the thought of being perched on the back of his bike, “yeah, not happening,” he exclaimed, “she doesn’t even have a helmet or anything-” Donghyuck cut him off by thrusting his own helmet into your arms unceremoniously “now she does!” he retorted cheekily, throwing a smug smile in Marks direction.

 “No, Hyuck really-” you started, the idea of being in such close proximity to the stranger not sitting right in your stomach.

 “Donghyuck, what the fuck?” Mark exclaimed in obvious annoyance at the lively boy who had seemingly already made the decision for you both as he sauntered off down the hall, leaving you alone with his best friend.

 -

 Mark didn’t speak to you as you made your way down the stairs side by side. You felt your heartbeat speed up as you walked through the automatic doors and saw the back of his motorcycle come into view. The model was sleek and rather elegant, the matte black of the main body suited Marks nefarious persona perfectly and the egg-yolk yellow accents made it all the more beautifully daunting.

 “Ever ridden a bike before?” Mark exhaled at you, already knowing the answer to his foolish question.

 You shook your head, “I haven’t. But you already knew that”.

 Mark nodded his head in response before putting his helmet on and climbing onto the bike in front of you. You mirrored his actions and secured Donghyucks helmet into place with shaky hands; the jet-black helmet was a little big for you, but you managed to fight against the strap until it was tight enough that you felt somewhat protected. You shuffled into the small space behind Mark and had barely just lifted your feet off the ground when he revved the engine and kicked off, sending you surging forward into his firm back in order to not fall off.

 Mark snickered at your immediate reaction, “you might want to hold on, sweetheart,” he told you in amusement as he turned his head towards you slightly. “I’m gonna need directions,” he announced as he turned back to the road and pulled out of the university car park, the sudden acceleration encouraging you to grab onto his shoulders firmly in an attempt to balance yourself.

 “Yeah, okay. Continue down here for a bit and then take a left just before the gym.” You instructed as you assessed the road before you.

 “Alright,” he responded casually, veering off to the right to overtake a car, causing you to stiffen even more.

 Sitting on the back of Marks bike was rather unnerving, but it was also thrilling and rather freeing. You could feel the wind in your hair and you were able to let yourself go a little. You closed your eyes for a moment and embraced the carelessness you felt bubbling up in your stomach; if your parents ever found out that you’d been on the back of a boys motorbike they would be livid, but in that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You leant forward and informed Mark about the next turn he needed to make, to which he responded with an okay and as if sensing your sudden carefree nature, he applied a sudden pump of pressure on the gas and sped up even more. He was trying to scare you, to irritate you, and it was working. The wind in your hair suddenly felt too cold, too loud, and the traffic surrounding you too fast.

 “Mark,” you warned him as you moved your hands from his shoulders to wrap them tightly around his waist. “Hey, slow down!” you shouted in his ear once you realised that he wasn’t letting up.

 “Relax, baby. You’re alright,” he chuckled over his shoulder, sounding completely unbothered.

 You tightened your grip around him and closed your eyes as you tried to calm down, no longer finding the experience enjoyable. You could feel the soft flesh of his toned stomach through his shirt; the vibrations of Marks laughter as he felt your grip tighten and your forehead press softly into his shoulder. He was warm and deadly and you could feel your hot blood rushing through your veins. You breathed him in slowly; his aroma was cigarette smoke and peppermint; his shirt stained with the faint scent of his cologne and cinnamon. You hated to admit it, but Mark Lee smelled heavenly despite being the embodiment of Hades himself, and it was intoxicating.

 “Sweetheart, you need to look so you can direct me,” he said blatantly, you opened your eyes briefly before closing them again with a shake of your head.

“Take the next right and then pull up on the left just before the hotel,” you breathed out.

 Mark was soon slowing to a halt and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in. “Thank fuck that’s over” you exclaimed before releasing your grip around the devilish boy in front of you, feeling slightly embarrassed that you’d been holding him so tightly. You swiftly removed your helmet and thrust it into Marks arms with a mumbled thank you before turning on your heel and heading towards the front door of the building. You faintly heard Mark calling your name, but you weren’t really listening as when you reached the door you felt your stomach drop, your dad was waiting for you and he was furious.

 Ten minutes later, you were seated next to your mother and opposite to your father, you were trying to settle the growing pit of nerves in your stomach as you knew you would be confronted by your dad soon enough. Around an hour into the meal, one of your parents’ guests decided to ask your mum about how you were getting on at uni, they were trying to make polite conversation, although your mothers response irked you rather.

 “She’s doing great! She’s loving her classes, aren’t you honey?” she directed at you with a knowing look in her eye. You simply nodded and replied a polite “yes, it’s great.”

 The same guest then went on to ask what it was you were studying, to which your parents simultaneously responded with ‘law’, as if rehearsed, which it most likely was. You knew your parents had never been happy with your decision to study fine art, and you couldn’t say you were surprised to hear that they were lying about your major, but it pissed you off, nevertheless. You clenched a fist underneath the table as they continued to brag about how well you were supposedly doing at law school. The evening continued like that for the next hour; your parents telling their ‘business partners’ about all the achievements you had made and how proud of you they were. Your family was built on a mound of lies.

 You knew that they were careful about what they told you about their business, but you were alert enough to be aware of the fact that the deals they made were not what might be expected of a typical hotel chain. They lied in front of you to try and cover the illegal activity that was going on, and while you weren’t entirely sure what that involved, you had an idea.

 Your parents walked with you to the entrance of the hotel when the dreadful dinner party was over, and you braced yourself for what you knew was coming.

 “You’ll never guess how our y/n arrived here earlier, love.” Your dad gestured to you while speaking to your mum.

 You looked down at your feet and fiddled with the hem of your jumper in anticipation. Your dad was business suits and stainless steel while your mother was sterile surfaces and fake smiles and you hated it, you hated them and the stupid lifestyle they had dragged you into. Nothing about it was real, nothing about it was fair.

 “She arrived on the back of a boy’s motorcycle,” he informed her with disgust evident in the tone of his voice, his facial expression unsettlingly straight. Your mother gasped in horror and you had to hold back from rolling your eyes at her dramatic reaction. “y/n what the hell were you thinking?” she asked you with a raised voice, anger evident.

 “I needed a ride, it’s a forty-minute walk otherwise!” you responded honestly. You weren’t going to let them manipulate you into apologizing to them.

 “Imagine what the guests would have thought if they’d seen you arrive in such a bedraggled way!” she screeched at you, to which you just responded with a shrug; not having the energy to argue with her.

 “You will reply when your mother addresses you, y/n.” Your father seethed through his teeth at you, anger taking over his stout features. You turned away from them in an attempt at getting away from their suffocating presence, talking back to them was not going to get you anywhere. But before you could walk through the now half open door, he grabbed onto your wrist harshly, “if you pull another stunt like this, there will be consequences, y/n, and stay away from that boy, he’s bad news.” He spat the coarse words into your left ear no louder than a whisper.

 You could feel your eyes beginning to water a little, “don’t touch me.” You breathed bitterly before yanking your wrist out of his forceful grip and slamming the glass door behind you.

 You finally let yourself go once you were outside, the tears flowing freely and silently down your cheeks. You were tired, exhausted even, of trying to mask how much their actions hurt you. Nobody at your university had a clue, not your roommate, Lisa, none of your art class acquaintances, not even Donghyuck, who you often found yourself confiding in when things got a bit too much and you found yourself on the verge of a breakdown.

 You were looking forward to getting home, your apartment was cozy and warm and just what you needed after dealing with your exasperating family. Your parents had bought you a 2 bed flat on the top floor of a crumbling apartment building, which you had the pleasure of choosing. After being brought up in a mansion-like house that didn’t even look lived in, you opted for something small and homely so that you weren’t rattling around in it. Two weeks after moving in, it still felt a little empty to you and so you advertised for a roommate – that was when Lisa came into your life. The two of you had your differences but you loved each other, you supposed she was probably your best friend, not that you were one to give people titles. Lisa was away on a two-week trip to Florence with a few of the people from her major, meaning you had the place to yourself; you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

 “Dinner party went well then?”

 You turned around and were met with the sight of Mark leaning against the wall next to the door of the hotel, he was somewhat hidden from view, his dark clothes melting in to the ebony of the sky. He held a cigarette between his lips and a lighter in his left hand, he took a long, slow drag before plucking it from his lips with his free hand and blowing the smoke in your direction.

 You stifled a cough and rolled your eyes at his actions before continuing in the direction of your apartment, “why are you still here, Mark?” you asked him as you lifted a hand to wipe the tears away from your rosy cheeks, curious as to why he’d hung around for you.

“I thought you’d want a ride home,” he shrugged as he caught up with you, lifting the cigarette again and this time leaving it hanging from his pink lips, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

 “The last thing I need is for my parents to see me on the back of your fucking bike, again.”

 Mark chuckled dryly in response, “did your dad give you a hard time?” he cooed, clearly finding your upset state funny. When you didn’t show any signs of amusement, his cheeky smile turned into something more sincere.

 “I heard what they said to you, you know,” he gave you a pitiful look, “I’m sorry that they treat you like that.”

 You raised your eyebrows and bit back a laugh, “cut the crap, Mark.” He looked a little taken-aback by your curt response, giving you a questioning look as he slowed to a stop beside you. “Don’t act like you suddenly care,” you sighed at his obliviousness, turning to face him.

 Mark Lee was not known for his kindness, caring nature. He was known for being cold and troublesome, he was like a snake; constantly shedding his skin and becoming a different version of himself. One minute he was dangerous and sinful and all things devilish and red, yet the next, he was soft like the feathery wings of an angel with kind eyes; and it was impossible to tell which version of himself he would present to you each time you met.

 You looked at him, really looked at him and took in his appearance. His soft dark hair was falling in his eyes with a slight parting in the middle, his sun-kissed skin rich and deep under the soft, golden light of the street lights you were bathing in. Your gaze fell to his cherry-stained lips and to the glowing stick he held between them, soft clouds of smoke occasionally leaving his lips as he exhaled. The heartbreaking truth was that Mark was attractive, you found him attractive and you didn’t know how to stop the way your breath hitched when you looked into his dark eyes. He was looking at you, observing you in the same way you had been observing him, and it was unnerving. His eyes flitted between your own and your lips briefly before he pulled his gaze away from you and towards the now-familiar motorbike which was sat just a few feet away from where you were stood.

 “Come on, let me take you home.”

 You didn’t talk to Mark as he drove you home aside from directing him to your apartment, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though. You were exhausted, and you found yourself feeling a little numb as you clutched Marks waist tightly and pressed a cheek into his back as you closed your eyes. You couldn’t find the energy to think about your father seeing you on the back of Marks bike. If he saw you, then so be it. You were utterly sick to your stomach of the way they pried and warped you into what they thought was the perfect child, the child that their fellow businessmen and women would want to hear about. They objectified you and they underestimated you and it royally pissed you off.

 You found yourself almost enjoying the feeling of betraying them, perhaps you’d take it up as a hobby. Perhaps you’d befriend Mark just to get under their skin, you’d undoubtedly relish in that feeling if you were a little more like the boy who you currently had wrapped in your tight embrace. But you weren’t like that, you were good and caring and you had so much love to give yet nobody to give it to. You couldn’t intentionally play someone like that, it wasn’t within your capability, nor was it your true desire. You didn’t want to use Mark, no matter how perfect it would be or how much it would irritate your parents. So, you pushed your delirious thoughts aside and tightened your hold on Mark as if to thank him for not asking too many questions or rubbing in your ill-fated situation. In response you felt a tight squeeze on your left thigh as he reached back to comfort you subtly, and that was all that was needed for you to begin to feel a little better.

 Mark pulled up outside your apartment building after what felt like forever. You heaved your heavy body off the padded seat behind him, your worn shoes scuffing against the edge of the pavement as you did so, causing you to stumble forward briefly before a strong hand gripped at your waist and pulled you back. You turned around at the sudden feeling of Marks arm wrapping around you, only to notice that you were standing a lot closer to the raven-haired boy than you’d anticipated. He had leaned off his bike a little in order to reach you and you now found yourself brushing up against his jean clad thigh.

 “Easy there, princess,” you could feel his hot breath on your cotton-candy stained cheeks and you struggled to appropriately place your gaze. You’d never been this close to him, face to face anyway, and you found it unsurprisingly intimidating. You observed and noticed his perfectly placed eyebrow piercing, the two silver balls gleaming even in the dark of the night. Marks eyes were deep and dark, black almost, a heavenly contrast to his honey-stained skin. They were half lidded and verging on sultry as he blinked and brought his eyes to meet with yours, his tongue briefly darting out to wet his lips before he gently brought the hand which wasn’t wrapped around your waist up to eye level. He hesitated briefly before he lifted his hand and started to unfasten the strap on the helmet you had borrowed from Donghyuck, “here, let me get that-”.

 Your breath caught in your throat as his hand brushed against your soft skin, the rough texture of his calloused hands contradicting your own smooth, milky complexion. You looked into his eyes as they were concentrated on removing the heavy helmet; he looked so innocent like this, so pure and refined. It was almost like the fire inside him had been dampened momentarily and the ice around his heart was beginning to melt, of course that wouldn’t last. You knew that the next time you saw him, it would be like this hadn’t happened. He would go back to smirking at you or blanking you entirely. It would have been a moment of utter serenity if it weren’t for your caged heart beating at ninety to the dozen inside your chest. You were nervous. Mark made you nervous.

 Once he’d lifted the helmet off, he realised he was still holding you and quickly moved his hand from your waist to rub the back of his neck, you became suddenly all too aware of your close proximity and took a small step back, clearing your throat and crossing your arms in the process. He roughly planted said helmet into your arms with an “I’ll see you around” before he kicked off and left you standing by the side of the road, looking a little flustered.

 Needless to say, the second your head hit your pillow that night, you were out like a light.

 -

 You entered the coffee shop two days later, Thursday, at your normal time of 7:15pm. Only this time you had more of a purpose; you, of course, were looking forward to your latte, but you had also brought Donghyucks helmet since Mark had left it with you.

 “Donghyuck!” you greeted the familiar face as you made your way towards his position behind the counter. “Here” you lifted the heavy black helmet onto the counter for him to take. He thanked you as he took it from you and went to put it in the back room.

You took the chance to look around the room, noticing a few familiar faces, mostly students huddled over their laptops or buried in a pile of dog-eared books. You spotted your usual round table and smiled at the site of the empty chair sat by it. You would soon be just like most of the other customers in the coffee shop, head down and engulfed in a heap of Gustav Klimt books, your chosen artist for this semester.

 “Hey, have you seen Mark around?” you were brought out of your thoughts by the return of the radiant boy in front of you, who was now busying himself with making your coffee.

 “Not since Tuesday, why?”

 “I haven’t seen him since then either, he normally drops me off for my shift today, but he didn’t show,” he replied sounding a little concerned for his troublesome friend. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” you hummed in response.

 You thanked Donghyuck with a warm smile as you paid him for your coffee before taking it over to your table and getting your notebook and a couple of books out of your scruffy bag. The next hour went by relatively quickly, you alternated between writing notes and actually annotating the books in front of you; you had a bad habit of defacing books. Whether it was folding pages or actually drawing on the pristine pages, you enjoyed making them look used and a little haggard.

 You had been so engrossed in your work that you hadn’t noticed Mark’s brief appearance in the cozy coffee shop, he was only present for about 30 seconds before Donghyuck excused himself and stepped outside to talk to his friend. You had your head down when you left through the heavy doors, you weren’t listening as they hushed their conversation at the sight of you, and you didn’t notice when Mark, who was sporting a bruised cheek and a bloody lip, cast his gaze over to you from behind his friends’ shoulder.

 You were living in your head as you walked home that evening, thinking up your future, where you wanted to live, and what you wanted to be doing. You’d just decided that you liked the idea of settling in Paris or somewhere similar when you felt the first sign of rain hit your cheek. You cursed to yourself as you pulled your hood up over your head in an attempt to shelter yourself from the inevitable downpour. You were never prepared when it rained, you usually just wore a hoodie and jeans to uni and you had never got into the habit of carrying a jacket or an umbrella around, you should probably change that, though; it rained a lot in your city.

 Not even two minutes after the rain started, you heard the screeching of tires on the wet road as a familiar looking bike skidded to a stop alongside where you were walking.

 “y/n get on!” Mark yelled over the deafening downpour surrounding you, taking his helmet off as you jogged over to him.

 You weren’t sure why you decided to listen to him, especially after he tried to scare you the last time. Perhaps it was because you knew you’d be home in a fraction of the time if he took you, walking would be at least another twenty minutes. Or maybe part of you actually liked the idea; somewhere deep down in the burning embers of your soul, you quite enjoyed the cryptic boys’ presence. He was everything you had stayed away from up until now, and although you would never admit it aloud, you found yourself reveling in the risk of it all.

 You tried to refuse his helmet, saying that he needed it more, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Just put the damn thing on,” he argued, only moving off once you were sat behind him with his helmet sat snugly on your head.

 Your arms curled around him in the same way you had recently become accustomed to. He was soaked through to the bone and cold, so cold, it seemed Mark wasn’t one for dressing according to the weather either. While you were at least wearing a hoodie, he was only wearing a t-shirt, a white one at that. His muscular back suddenly became painstakingly obvious through his soaked shirt and you tried to focus on the road ahead as you rested your chin on his left shoulder.

 Not even 10 minutes later, you had arrived at your apartment building.

 You jumped off the bike as soon as it had stopped moving, keen to get inside and rid yourself of your drenched clothes as soon as possible; a hot shower sounded absolutely wonderful right now. You expressed your thanks and looked up at Mark to return his helmet to him once you’d wrestled to get your wet hair untangled from the strap, only to see that he had his head hung low and turned away from you.

 “Hey, Mark?” he hummed in response, seeming somewhat distracted. “You good?”

 “Huh? Yeah, I should really go-”

 “Why won’t you look at me?” you hesitantly reach across and hear a sharp intake of breath from him when you grip at his jaw, turning his head to face you for the first time that night. Your breathing faltered at the sight of his black and blue cheekbone and your eyes scanned the rest of his face to discover that his lip was also rather swollen and coated with dry blood.

 “Mark…” you whispered as you ghosted your hand over the tender skin, blinking down at him as his hand gripped at your wrist.

 “It’s fine, y/n,” he gritted his teeth, still not looking up at you.

 “Who did this to you?” you thumbed at his puffy lip gently, the question more rhetorical than anything else.  

 You had never seen the boy before you look so worn out. In fact, you weren’t sure if you had ever witnessed someone being hurt like this before. You blinked twice and moved your hand away from him in order to brush your own disheveled hair out of your eyelashes as you realised that the rain was only becoming heavier.

 “Come inside,” you said unexpectedly, surprising both yourself and the bloodied boy sat before you. You tugged at his sleeve, “just let me help you, as a thank you of sorts”.

 “I really shouldn’t, I-,” you didn’t let him finish, you instead found yourself dragging him away from his beloved black and yellow bike and into shelter.

 He followed you up the stairs until you were on the top floor, you had your key in one hand and his bike helmet in the other. He didn’t speak as you walked up the five flights of stairs, the only sounds were your sopping wet shoes squelching each time you took a step and the shaky breathing coming from the pair of you.

 You stepped into your small apartment with Mark in tow, switching on the lights as soon as you were in the door. You placed your stuff down alongside Marks helmet on the long wooden coffee table in your little living room before disappearing into Lisa’s room to find something for Mark to change out of his wet clothes into. When you walked back into the living room, he was still standing there, hands clasped together and rocking back and forth on his toes lightly.

 “Here, I think this stuff should fit you.”

 Lisa sometimes had boys over, usually they were just one-off flings but sometimes they’d come often enough that she had managed to accumulate a growing pile of their clothes. You’d found a pair of loose black shorts and a large light-grey hoodie that looked around Marks size.

 You directed him to the bathroom so he could change, before turning to your own room and stripping off your drenched clothes, changing into a pair of sweats and a loose fitting shirt as quickly as you could. You grabbed some wet cotton wool and a bag of frozen peas to help take down the swelling, you didn’t have a first aid kit in your apartment, so this would have to suffice. You found Mark sitting on your sofa when you returned, his head leaning on one of his hands whilst he texted someone on his phone with the other. He heard your fluffy sock-clad feed padding against the hard wood floor as you neared him, looking up and instantly turning his phone off and placing it next to him once he realised you had reappeared.

 You knelt down in front of him, placing the frozen bag on the floor beside you and turning your attention to the injured boy.

 “Stay still,” you could feel Marks eyes following your every move. You dabbed at his wounded lip, trying to help take the edge off the sting he must be feeling. You steadied yourself by placing your free hand on his shoulder, causing him to turn his attention to you rather than whatever he found so interesting behind you.

 “Where’d you get the clothes from?” he gestured to the hoodie he was now wearing.

 “Oh, they’re from Lisa’s- my roommate’s ex, I think,” he nodded at your reply.

 “Don’t move,” you whispered as you held his head still and wiped away the remainder of the blood. “It’s not like they’d be from my ex, given that I don’t have one. Or a current boyfriend, for that matter.” Your weak attempt at a joke fell flat as you suddenly realised the implications of what you had just said. Your eyes grew wide, “that was stupid, I don’t know why I said that. I just-”

 Your ramblings were cut short when Mark gripped your arm and took the bloody cotton wool from your hand, dropping it to the floor while keeping his half-lidded gaze on you. He moved your hand to hover just above his heart, resting it there. You kept your eyes on his hand as it covered yours, not daring to look up at him for fear that you may crumble. You felt like putty in his hands and all he was doing was touching your hand. Your face flushed as your hands began to tremble subtly.

 “Do you feel that?” you did. You could feel his heart beating rapidly, just as yours was. “Baby?”

 You dragged your eyes up to meet his and nodded delicately as you let yourself tug at his hoodie a bit, trying to cease the nerves rising up from the pit of your stomach to the very tips of your fingers. Mark lowered his head until his forehead was brushing against yours from his elevated position on the sofa. You could smell the faint scent of cigarette smoke coming from his lips, which were now barely three inches from yours.

“What are you-,” he rubbed his nose against yours and murmured a barely-there “shh,” as his eyes fluttered shut.

 Mark pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips and moved his soft grip from your hand to angle your face up towards him, bringing his other hand up to cup your jaw before moving to plant a slow peck on your plump lips. “y/n?” you hummed when he pulled back a couple of inches, keeping your eyes closed. You didn’t want him to stop and you hated yourself for it. You tugged at his hoodie again, hoping he would understand your signal for him to continue. You didn’t have confidence in words, opting to not say anything and instead moving your left hand up further to reach the nape of his neck, pulling him into you.

 The feeling of having another’s lips pressed against yours was unfamiliar and yet, strangely addictive. Your breathing was getting heavier in sync with his as he left long, drawn out kisses on your lips, alternating between your bottom lip and your top. You found the angle was getting a little awkward and so, with the help of Mark, you sat up on your knees, only staying like that for a moment before you found yourself situated on his lap with your legs on either side of him.

He barely paused for breath before capturing your lips again, this time prodding at your entrance with his slick tongue. The sensation was effortless with him, your lips slotting together over and over again with such ease and precision. His tongue massaged against yours as he relocated his calloused hands to rest around your waist, squeezing the soft flesh as your shirt rode up slightly.

 You let out a soft whimper as his cold hands touched your hot skin and you threaded your fingers through the damp locks of hair at the back of his head, your other hand clenching and unclenching, taking fistfuls of his hoodie as you tried to make the feelings in your chest evaporate. The air was hot and sticky, and you gasped into each-others open mouths, you couldn’t get enough of him.

 Kissing Mark Lee made you feel more alive than you had ever thought possible, it was both heavenly and sinful, and he took all your breath away as if it was nothing. He tasted sweet and smoky and he was enthralling for he was the devils incarnate, yet the most celestial being you had ever laid eyes on. You hated him, you wanted to hate him. But he was radiant and god-like and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, for Mark Lee was magnetic and you will forever be drawn to his sacrilegious self.

 You were panting and breathless as you took his lower lip between your teeth and looked into his amorous eyes, but he winced, and you found yourself pulling away from his swollen lips as a coppery taste lathered your tongue. You were flush against him; your immediate proximity making you blush, given the circumstances. “Sorry, I forgot- about your lip I mean,” you stammered out, feeling rather flustered.

 “I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” Mark leant forward to press his lips to yours again messily as he dragged his hands along your thighs, he couldn’t seem to sit still.

 “Mark,” you tried to pull away again, you knew he was using this situation as a distraction. He hummed as he ran one hand up your side until he was cupping your jaw, trailing his wet lips down the side of your neck. “Mark, stop.” You said firmly just as he nipped softly at the flesh under your ear, pushing him tenderly by his shoulders until he was far enough that you could look at him properly.

 “Did I do something?”, his panicked eyes searched your own for an answer.

 You sighed, “no,” as you slid off his lap and made yourself comfortable on the sofa next to him. “I just- why?”

 “Why what, baby?”

 “What did you do to deserve this?” you asked him tenderly as you crossed your legs and turned to face him, tracing your fingers from his harsh eyebrow piercing to the soft skin of his cheekbone. Under the soft light of the lamps in your living room his bruises were faint and indistinct, but they were still there. The black and blue painted on his skin somehow looked pretty, it was a deep contrast to his normal warm tone, but it didn’t exactly look bad – just sore.

 “Can we not talk about this, please?” he groaned as he dropped his head into his hands.

 “Just tell me what happened!” You argued, your voice raised a little in exasperation. You didn’t understand why he was so reluctant to talk to you about it. Everyone knew about Marks reputation, he was known for sporting the odd black eye and not holding his tongue when he should. But as you were sat next to him, you realised that you didn’t actually know why.

 “I can’t-“

 “You can, please-”

 “No, you’re staying out of this y/n,” Marks voice was deep and hoarse as he spoke loudly to you, letting you know that his decision was final.

 “Why won’t you talk to me? Doesn’t this mean anything to you?” you breathed out, as you covered your face with your hands in frustration, letting your elbows rest on your knees, you looked up at the boy before you. “Is this an act of pity or something? Did you only come in because you felt sorry for me?”

 “What? No I-,” his phone ringing cut him off before he could speak further. Mark cursed once he saw who was calling him, “I’m sorry, I have to go, I’ll see you around.” He grabbed his stuff from the table before rushing out the door to answer the phone, leaving you alone and bathing in the now strangely silent room to process everything that had just happened.

 -

  “So, tell me about Florence!”

 Lisa was finally home from her time in Italy, and she’d somehow managed to persuade you that catching up over a drink or two was a good idea. You’d never been the type to drink to get drunk, not that you hadn’t been drunk; it just didn’t happen very often. You were more of a coffee lover, that’s where you and Lisa were different. While you would spend your free time slaving over a book with a steaming mug of coffee, she would spend hers sharing secrets with strangers over a bottle of beer.  You supposed your dynamic wasn’t so different to Donghyuck and Mark, like earth versus fire, air versus water; you were somewhat dependent on eachother, the perfect contradiction.

 “It was incredible, the architecture was phenomenal, as was the art and gosh you would’ve loved the culture!” She gushed excitedly after taking a long gulp of her fruity cocktail.

 If you didn’t know her personally, you might have been jealous of Lisa. Upfront, she seemed unmistakably perfect, her hair was thick and shiny, her skin was clear, and she flourished in social settings. But you did know her, well enough to know that her happy exterior wasn’t always genuine and that she too found life to be rather stressful at times, she was just better at relieving that stress than you were; hence her tendency to party and pick up boys every now and then.

 The two of you talked back and forth about her time in Florence and your time without her, although you failed to mention anything involving Mark, the last thing you needed was Lisa breathing down your neck about something that you weren’t entirely sure about yourself. She raved about the museums and galleries she’d visited and made sure to recite each and every individual piece of art that she’d enjoyed; yes, you were jealous. You were jealous of her freedom and you were jealous of her carefree nature, you wished you could be like that. Perhaps if it weren’t for your family, you would be a little more like Lisa. You thought back to a few days prior when you were sitting behind Mark, clinging to him tightly as the two of you rode through the rain; that was the most unburdened you had felt in a long time.

 You were snapped out of your train of thought by Lisa standing up from her seat next to you at the bar, “I’ll be back in a minute,” she signaled to the bathroom before traipsing away from you, leaving you with your thoughts and a half empty glass of vodka and lemonade.  

 As you waited you found yourself casting your gaze around the busy room; the bar seemed to be teeming with students like you, apart from the odd older guy. You spent a lot of your time observing people and their actions, it was almost like a hobby, being a bystander. There were booths filled with youngsters, chanting and laughing and having the time of their lives, there were bar stools filled with friends downing shots and getting plastered, and then there was you. You, who would rather be at home, curled up and watching a movie with a bowl of shitty popcorn. So, when you were approached by a sleazy looking man who seemed to be rather under the influence, you were somewhat bewildered.

 “Two shots for this lovely lady and I!” He hollered to the barman over the blaring music as he gestured roughly towards you. He reeked of alcohol and sweat, a rather nasty combination which could absolutely not be considered attractive.

 “Oh, no I was just leaving-”

 “C’mon, just one drink!” he interrupted you, sending a ratty smile in your direction.

 “No really, I’d rather not” you raised yourself off the tall stool you had been perched on, reaching for your bag as you desperately tried to remove yourself from the situation. This was why you didn’t like going out, you were terrified of exactly what appeared to be happening right now. You felt vulnerable as soon as he appeared next to you, your instincts quickly telling you that the man before you was bad news.

 He grabbed your wrist firmly, making you wince at the abrupt action. “Don’t touch me,” you seethed as you tried to pry away his painful grip on your wrist.

 “You’re a fair handful,” he slurred as he moved closer to you, moving his other hand to clutch around your waist under your shirt, making you feel uneasy. You could feel tears of panic begin to sting at the corner of your eyes as you looked around frantically in exasperation at the fact that nobody seemed to be aware of what was going on. He pressed himself against you and you were struggling to get away from him as you felt him begin to trail his hand to your backside.

 “Get your fucking hands off her,” a familiar voice threatened from beside you, although you couldn’t quite figure out who it belonged to.

 He didn’t comply. You felt sick.

 He was suddenly ripped away from you as a large hand grasped at the neck of his shirt and a swift punch was thrown, and then another two. “I warned you,” your eyes widened at the scene which was playing out before you.

 “Mark, stop!” you shouted as soon as you recognised the dark mop of hair that you were now well-acquainted with. Of course, he didn’t listen to you.

 The drunk man tried to retaliate but was soon rendered defenseless as he took one final hit to the face and staggered backwards with blood dripping down his chin, “sorry man, didn’t realise she was yours,” he laughed as he spat blood onto the floor and disappeared into the crowd.

 You looked away from the man who was swaying away from you and, sure enough, standing before you was Mark Lee in all his grandeur. He was dressed from head to toe in black and his bruised cheek was mostly faded now, barely visible unless you were really looking for it. His knuckles looked red and sore as he splayed his hand out to check for any broken skin.

 Your devilish savior ignored his distasteful comment as he diverted his attention to you, “are you alright?”

 You shook your head, “I just need to get out of here”. You felt claustrophobic, like you couldn’t breathe. And, god, you were itching to shower and scrub off the feeling of that man’s grimy hands on your body.

 You pulled your gaze away from Mark for a second, just long enough to see Lisa walking your way from the bathroom. “Y/n? What’s going on?” she asked as she looked between you and Mark, who was standing so close that you could feel his hot breath on your neck.

 She undoubtedly knew who Mark was, everybody at your university did. He was striking in both appearance and in demeanor, although not always for the right reasons. And so, she would most likely be wondering what someone like him would be doing speaking to someone like you. The two of you were so drastically different; if he was the devil then you were the purest sinner to walk this earth. He was dripping in warning signs, he radiated bad news, yet you found yourself being drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and it would appear that he too found himself unable to shake you from his mind.

 “Nothing, it’s fine.”

 “Why is he here?” she nodded to the boy standing behind you, sending you a look of questioning.

 You heard Mark scoff under his breath as you glanced round to him, trying to think up an excuse to leave the bar that wouldn’t lead to a lengthy conversation with Lisa later.

 “Something came up, I’m sorry. I can’t stay,” you offered her with pleading eyes, praying she would understand your need to leave, even if she didn’t know the reason behind it.

 “Alright, be safe,” she responded with a sigh and a quick hug, and with that, you turned on your heel and walked quickly out the door.

 You could feel Marks presence behind you as you walked along the pavement with your head hung low, your feet dragging and scuffing along the stone as you sifted through the multitude of thoughts that had gathered in your head. The two of you walked in a comfortable silence for a while, you breathed in the cold city air and exhaled heavily through your mouth as you tilted your head to gaze up at the dark sky which was faintly painted with the warm glow of the city lights.

 You could breathe clearly out in the fresh air, the sticky heat of the bar finally cooling on your skin; it wasn’t a particularly nice feeling but it was better than being coated in the sensation of a strangers touch.

 Your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your trance-like state, you reached into your pocket and fished it out, stopping dead in your tracks as you read the message on your lit-up screen.

 [dad]

One of my business associates just saw you leaving a bar with that boy, remember what I told you, y/n.

 You rushed to turn around as you looked back along the long stretch of street in search of someone looking at the two of you, but you saw no one. You were nearing the canal just to the west of the city centre and the street lighting was limited, not giving you the best view of the road you’d just walked down. Mark looked at you in confusion as he lifted his hands to rest on your shoulders and looked into your fiery eyes, “is everything okay?”

 You shook your head and shrugged off his hold on you, already beginning to walk again, more hurriedly this time. “You have to leave, Mark,” you told him firmly as you breathed in shakily.

 “What, why?” he questioned as he crept up beside you, easily matching your determined stride.

 “Please just- it’s for your own safety, I can’t be seen with you,” you told him truthfully, knowing that it sounded a little harsh. Your dad was, however, a powerful man, and you didn’t doubt for a second that he would do whatever he deemed necessary to get what he wanted; and if he wanted you to stop seeing Mark, then he would not hesitate to dispose of him in some way. All for his stupid business and riches. All your parents seemed to care about was their reputation, as long as their names, yours included, were untarnished, the company would keep raking in stacks of money and numerous money-making deals. And they would do whatever they had to, get rid of whoever they had to, in order to keep it that way. They’d been like this for as long as you could remember and there was no part of you that would ever be able to challenge your father’s threats. Because that’s what they were; threats. And he meant every word that he said.

 “Y/n, what the hell are you talking about? If this is about the bar or the other night then I’m sorry I-,” he shut up when you turned to face him once more and gripped both his hands in yours, lacing them together intimately. His brows furrowed as he looked down to your interlaced fingers and then back up to your eyes.

 “Please, Mark.”

 “I don’t understand?”

 You sighed up at the dangerous boy before you, trying to think of an appropriate way of telling him that your father probably wanted to kill him just for being near you. “My dad doesn’t – he doesn’t like you”

 “Your dad? I haven’t ever met him, though?” his face twists as he processes the information, struggling to fathom how your father could possibly have an opinion on someone who he’d never even spoken to before.

 “That doesn’t matter, you don’t exactly-,” you paused and chewed at your bottom lip, tilting your head to look at your feet and lowering your voice to a whisper, “- have the best reputation.”

 He squeezed your intertwined hands comfortingly as he sighed, dragging your hands up to rest around his neck gently before circling his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him.

 Mark wasn’t particularly proud of his not-so-perfect character, he knew that people talked about him, he knew that he didn’t do himself any favours by consistently sporting some form of bruising or blemish and getting himself into fights. But Mark was soft, too. He had a heart of gold when it mattered; he was like the purest form of oxygen in a smoky room, he never failed to show his good side when his loved ones were in need.

 “I’m not all bad, you know, princess” he chuckled soothingly, his breath tickling against your face.  

 Your fingers played with the soft tufts of hair at the nape of his neck, “I don’t want you to get hurt-,” you started, stopping to think quickly. You weren’t sure where these feelings were coming from. You’d barely known Mark until a couple of weeks ago, the two of you having never payed eachother any great amount of attention before, but Donghyuck had introduced him into your life and now you couldn’t seem to shake him from your mind.

 “-because for some reason, I care about whether you get hurt or not,” you laughed breathlessly, rolling your eyes as you looked up to the sky once more, perhaps searching for the answers to all the questions swimming around in your head at the moment.

 “Can I kiss you?”

 You shook your head, chuckling nervously at his question, it was so very Mark. He managed to completely ignore your concern, instead opting to act on his own thoughts. “Have you listened to anything I’ve said?” you said in exasperation, feeling somewhat frustrated.

 “Yes, I have, but I don’t care, y/n. I’m not going to leave, your dad doesn’t scare me, and you make my heart beat far faster than I’d ever care to admit - I know you feel it too. So please, y/n, let me just have this,” he pulled you closer by your waist as he let himself wear his heart on his sleeve momentarily, pleadingly looking into your eyes.

 “He’ll kill you, you know,” you warned faintly.

 “I can take care of myself.”

 “I know I just- I think you’re underestimating this. He’s powerful and he warned me to stay away from you. Hell, you barely even know me, Mark, I’m really not worth this-,” you gasped as you felt one of his large hands squeeze your waist and he used the opportunity to shut you up completely, mumbling a soft “stop talking,” before pressing his lips to yours in one swift motion.

 You stayed like that for a moment, your body flushed against Marks chest as he held you tightly to him, as if he were afraid that you would disappear if he wasn’t too careful. He soon pulled back just far enough to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed. You admired his dark lashes fluttering against his satin skin and the way his lips were full and wet from your kiss, he was breathtaking. You couldn’t deny your attraction to him, your heart practically begging to be released from its cage whenever he was close to you like this; he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

 “This is dangerous,” you whispered, encouraging him to open his doe eyes as he parted his lips a little in thought.

 “You look so good right now, I just- I can’t,” he stumbled over his words, his voice breaking under your gaze. “God, I like you so much.”

 You would have giggled at how he sounded like a schoolboy if he hadn’t kissed you again, gliding his right hand up your body until he was cupping your velvety skin and pulling you closer still. He kissed you with so much feeling and emotion, you barely recognised him as the boy you had first met anymore. His cold, harsh exterior completely melting away under your gentle touch. He let himself groan as you kissed him back with just as much ardour, letting your tongue gently pry his lips apart as you tried to convey your feelings for him. You let yourself momentarily forget the posing threat from your dad, enjoying Marks successful attempt at distracting you from it.

 His touch was fiery-hot, his hands leaving a burning trail in their wake as he touched you delicately, as though you were a doll who might break if you fell into the wrong hands. He pulled away once more and grasped your hand in his before leading you away from the canal and towards his home.

 -

 Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of a hushed voice nearby, propping yourself up with one hand and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes with the other. You blinked groggily several times before you managed to keep your eyes open for long enough to sit up with your legs dangling off the side of the unfamiliar mattress, the cool air of the room making your hairs stand on end. You looked down at your cold legs and noticed that you were only wearing an oversized shirt with your underwear – the shirt, you recalled, was Mark’s.

 He’d brought you back home with him last night, you didn’t really feel like going home and explaining the events of the night to Lisa. Your brain was still half asleep and hazy as you tried to recall all that had happened yesterday; you could remember Mark offering to sleep on the sofa, but you also recounted that you’d asked him if he could stay with you, his presence alone helping you feel at-ease. He made sure to keep his distance, to keep to his side of the bed, even if he was itching to reach across the sea of sheets to hold you. He made you feel warm and safe and at-ease and that scared you a little – how quickly he’d earned your trust, if that’s what you could call it.

 You couldn’t make out the muffled voice coming from next door, but you imagined he was probably just on the phone to someone. You stifled a yawn as you reached for your phone, which had been thrown onto the carpeted floor by the mattress in haste before you knocked out fast asleep last night. The time was only just gone 7am, you wondered who Mark could be speaking to this early, a friend possibly? A parent? It was when you thought about things like this that you realised just how little you really knew about him. You knew that he liked living more dangerously than most, that he had an unhealthy love for driving his motorcycle too fast, too late, and too often, you also knew of his friendship with Donghyuck; but after that, you struggled to find anything you could add to the list. You barely knew the boy.

 “Sorry, did I wake you?” he called from the doorway, startling you out of your tired thoughts. You looked up and felt the air leave your lungs as you saw him; he looked ethereal. He was leaning with his left shoulder against the flakily-painted frame, his navy-blue hoodie was too big and his honey-coloured collarbones were only half hidden by the drooping neck of his bed-attire. His boxers were fitted to his thighs and you had to pull your gaze away to stop the inevitable blush that would otherwise creep up your neck. He’d probably already noticed your staring, anyway.

 “Yeah, but it’s okay,” you said groggily as you stretched your arms back to relieve your aching shoulder-blades – you must have slept on them funny.

 You made the effort to stand up but were swiftly turned back around as Mark placed his warm hand on the small of your back and guided you back to the plush mess of bedding and blankets. You lay back down on your side, with your head facing the door and your back to Marks side of the bed. The sheets smelled of him, you realised. A little musky perhaps, like cinnamon and spice. His aroma was warm and comforting as you pulled the duvet up to rest just beneath your chin to try and keep out the chill of the room, your hands clasping together just below the covers. You felt the bed dip as he sunk into the pillows beside you, his breathing was shallow and yet you could somehow still just make it out over the quiet sounds of the city outside waking up.

 “Do you mind if I- can I lay with you?” he asked you, sounding unusually shy, although maybe it was just his lack of sleep.

 “You lay with me last night, Mark” you chuckled.

 “No, I mean-,” he cut himself off, shuffling around behind you until you felt his arm reach around your waist tenderly. His chest was radiating his body heat, just a couple of centimeters from touching yours. “Like this,” he whispered in your ear, softly pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear as he grasped your clasped hands in his blindly.

 “Oh” you replied, barely there. He made your brain go mushy and you were still so tired, having not gone to sleep until late. You wiggled yourself backwards a little, just enough so that you could feel his heartbeat on your clothed back as arm tightened around you. “Let’s just stay like this forever, it’s so nice,” you murmured, letting your eyes fall shut as you basked in Marks warm embrace.

 A few hours later, you find yourself back in your apartment. You’re nestled into the warmth of your sofa with your legs tucked into your chest and a pillow hugged tight to your chest. Lisa was sat next to you, in an equally relaxed position, her fluffy socks tickling at your side faintly.

 “He gave you a ride? Twice? On his bike?” she repeated fragments of what you’d told her back to you. You’d told her more than that, but her eyes grew wide the second you had mentioned Marks name. You nodded in response, “yes?”

 She breathed out heavily, “he’s hot too, do you know what you’re getting into?” she wiggled her eyebrows at you, making you laugh and throw the pillow you were hugging at her. She shrugged, “hey! I’m just saying, the attractive ones always cause the most trouble”.

 You didn’t reply, instead you placed your head in your hands and lulled to the side, looking up at her and sighing like a lovesick puppy. “I really like him, Lisa,” you mumbled, the atmosphere turning more serious, “I just don’t wanna get hurt”.

 “You have to see past that. Live a little, y/n, let yourself loose for a bit,” she told you. You knew that she was probably right, and that she was only encouraging you to do what she knew best. It was easy for Lisa to say that, she was renowned for her extroverted, care-free personality, and you did sometimes envy that. But maybe it was time to take a leaf from her book, you didn’t know what would happen with Mark, you just knew that there was a strong connection between you two that you couldn’t ignore anymore. You couldn’t keep fighting against it. No matter how much you willed yourself to hate him, you never could. He was so much softer than you thought, there was more substance to him.

 He was bright and full and carefree, almost the exact opposite to you. He was a little similar to Lisa, actually, just more devious. More devilish. You could see that his harsh front was beginning to melt around you, though. You seemed to have some kind of effect on him, and he hated that. You loved it. You found yourself wanting to get to know the boy hidden beneath all those layers of toughened-up skin. “Maybe I will,” you replied, with a knowing smile on your face.

 -

 Your lips parted as you panted, out of breath as you pulled back for air, throwing a quick glance to your buzzing phone, signaling yet another call from your father; you ignored it. Marks lips trailed lazily down your neck as he kissed faint flowering bruises into your soft skin, his teeth occasionally nipping and biting at the juncture of your neck. You closed your eyes in bliss and threaded your fingers through his curly, raven hair, tugging at it to signal your enjoyment.

 Your father had been texting you and leaving you voicemail messages frequently over the past week. At first you were concerned for Marks safety, but it seemed that his threats were empty as nothing had come of them yet. And so, you found yourself seated in Marks lap for the third time that week. He let out a low groan as you tugged at his hair once more and shifted slightly in his lap, “stop moving, baby,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly as he squeezed you into his embrace.

 A knock at the door of Marks small, one-bed apartment stilled the pair of you. He lifted his head up to look at you with a cheeky smile, “what?” you looked down at him with wide eyes.

 “You’ll see,” he replied as he placed a soft kiss on your plump lips before picking you up off his lap and placing you down on the warm blanket-covered sofa, you crossed your legs and looked up to him in anticipation.

 He padded over to the front door, just out of your line of sight, you heard him open the door and engage in conversation with the visitor. You glanced around the room and took in your surroundings, observing, as you always did. You’d been in Marks apartment two or three times by now, he seemed to keep it relatively clean, everything seemed to have its place.  You squinted as you noticed a sliver of silver on the bookshelf in the corner of the room, it seemed to be an expensive looking watch, a rolex, perhaps. It looked to be of that sort of style. You wondered briefly how Mark would come by such an expensive watch but didn’t think much of it, perhaps it was a family heirloom?

 Your gaze trailed down as you noticed a hard, black case protruding from its space under the shelf. It didn’t look like a briefcase, in fact it looked to be rather heavy-duty and you wondered what on earth Mark would have one for, you’d only ever seen things like that when people were housing weapons or something similar. You knew this because your father liked to keep cases full of handguns around your house, not that you were supposed to know, you were merely a curious child who went snooping where you shouldn’t have.

 “Hey, so pepperoni or cheese?” you snapped your gaze from the case over to Mark who was just emerging from the hallway to the front door, two greasy pizza boxes in hand. A warm smile lit up your face as the delicious smell of pizza filled the room, “you ordered pizza?”

 “Yeah, I figured you’d be hungry, you do like pizza, right?”

 “Of course,” you hummed, shuffling over to make room for Mark to sit next to you.

 You spent the next two hours sharing the food between you and talking, laughing like normal youngsters should. It felt good to finally be in each other’s company without watching your back or worrying about the future. You had the television on in the background, it was playing an old black and white film that you weren’t really paying attention to, and you felt at home.

 Mark placed the empty boxes on the coffee table once you’d finished with them, pulling you into him and tangling his legs with yours as you rested your head on his chest and listened to his quickened heartbeat. “What do you do? You know, when you’re not causing trouble”

 He visibly tensed at your question and looked away from you as he thought of what to reply “I work for a company, just running errands. It’s nothing special,” he shrugged, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You mind if I smoke?” you shook your head.

 “That sounds a bit boring,” you yawned into his chest, feeling the vibrations of his chest as he let out a soft laugh. He leaned over you momentarily to reach for his pack of cigarettes before leaning back again and fishing his lighter from his pocket.

 “Yeah, I guess it is,” he replied as he caught a cigarette between his lips and brought his lighter up to encase the stick in a flame, leaving behind a glowing tip. He took a long drag, letting his eyes flutter shut in bliss for a second before blowing the smoke out, angling his head up so as to not blow it in your direction.

 “Why don’t you quit?” you coughed a little, fanning away the smoke that had snaked its way down to you.

 “Smoking or work?”

 “Work,” you chuckled, glancing up at him and tracing a finger along his jawline. Admiring the way his jaw flexed as he exhaled another plume of smoke.

“It pays well”

 “You get paid well for running errands?” you raised an eyebrow at him, not quite believing his reasoning.

 “Yes?”

 Before you can say anything else, Marks phone rings from its place on the floor by the empty pizza boxes. “Shit I better get that-,” he lifted the cigarette from his lips and stubbed it out in the ashtray on the table after taking a final, lengthy drag from the glowing stick.

 “It’s okay, I should probably head home anyway,” you cut him off, it was getting late and you didn’t plan on staying the night, you had a 9am lecture the next morning.

 “Alright, baby. Get home safe,” he stood up, pulling you up with him and pulling you in to press a peck on your supple lips, and then another slightly more drawn out kiss before you dragged yourself away from him, not wanting to get carried away. He tasted like wispy smoke and peppermint again and you could so easily get lost in his lips, the effort to pull away proving to be gallant.

 “I’ll see you later,” you blushed up at him, fiddling with the sleeves of your jumper. You turned your back and walked towards the exit, hearing him pick up his phone and answer the incessant ringing. His voice was muffled through the thin wall of his main corridor, and although you knew it was wrong, you found yourself listening.

 “Hey, Sicheng. What’s up?”

 “No, not yet. Hey, can we talk about this later? Now’s not a good time, man.”

 You could picture Mark furrowing his brows in frustration as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration, smiling softly to yourself as you slipped on your shoes.

 “Yeah, y/n just left, actually”

 “Yes, Sicheng. I know”

 “I’ll do it soon, I swear”

 Your ears perked up at the mention of your name and you suddenly felt like you were invading his privacy by staying and listening to this conversation. You didn’t feel comfortable hearing information you probably shouldn’t have been privy to. And so, you slipped out of Marks warm apartment as quietly as you could and walked home at a brisk pace, eager to jump into the comfort of your own bed and fall asleep.

 -

 “That’s all for today, don’t forget your deadline next week!” you stood up from your seat in the lecture hall and stuffed your laptop and notebook into your scruffy bag before walking down the stairs to the exit. You’d just finished a two-hour lecture on the history of fine art, the one part of your major that you didn’t absolutely love. It’s not that you didn’t find it interesting, you just felt that it dragged on sometimes; half an hour felt like twice as long in that class.

 You left the room as quickly as you could, already imagining how good your Thursday latte would taste once you made it to the coffee shop. You were too wrapped up in your own thoughts to notice the boy walking in your direction until you bumped into a firm structure, far broader and taller than your own.

 You looked up and smiled as your eyes were met with the pretty sight of Mark’s curly black hair - messy as always, yet still so perfect. “Hi” you grimaced up at him through your lashes.

 “Hey, princess-” he chuckled, “-mind if I join you?” He didn’t give you time to reply as he took your hand in his and pulled you out of your lecture building. “I’m guessing you’re heading to Hyuck’s café?”

 “Yeah” you replied quietly as you glanced down at your intertwined hands, a rosy blush spreading its way up your neck and onto the apples of your cheeks, you tried not to smile too much. You hated the effect he had on you. He had the ability to turn you into a blushing mess at the drop of a hat, and he made it look so easy, it’s like he didn’t even have to try. You wiggled your way out of his grasp, remembering that you were in public. The last thing you wanted was for one of your dads associates to report something back to him, again.

 “How was your day?” he peered across to you, ignoring the way you had separated yourself from him.

 “It’s been alright, pretty standard. How did you know where to find me?” you replied in question, wiggling your eyebrows up at him, “stalker” you giggled, watching as he opened his mouth to respond, shutting it before he could say anything. He looked like a fish.

 “You mind if we take the bike?” he nodded his head towards the striking motorcycle just ahead of you, it wasn’t parked very carefully. He had obviously just pulled up and jumped off in a rush.

 “Oh, it’s okay I can just walk-”

 “Nonsense, baby. Hop on,” he picked up his helmet, placing it on your head and fastening the strap under your chin. “Perfect” he smiled once he was done, admiring how you looked in the soft light of the early evening for the first time. His smile was sad, though you didn’t really think anything of it.

 The two of you usually crossed paths when the sun had set, and the stars were visible for the night, it was nice to see Mark in the golden hour of the day for once. His skin was glowing as he bathed in the light, his black curly hair a stark contrast as his messy locks fell against his forehead and into his eyes. He looked breathtaking, although you supposed that shouldn’t really come as a surprise to you anymore; Mark always looked breathtaking, ethereal even. It was as if he was sculpted by the gods themselves, his beauty truly not of this world.

 You rode through the city, the warm air blowing your hair over your shoulders as your arms automatically wrapped themselves snugly around Marks toned core.

 You found yourself in a state of serenity when you were close to him like this. His warmth and his intoxicating aroma were the deadliest of all combinations. Truthfully, if Mark was an erupting volcano, you would most likely swim towards his lethal inferno. You didn’t understand why you felt this way; he had some unknown, invisible control over you and you were sure you were already addicted.

 “Oh, crap,” you heard under a hushed breath from in front of you. Mark was looking from side to side in a frantic motion, his sudden state of distress immediately alarming you.

 “Mark?” he muttered something that you didn’t quite catch, ignoring your questioning plea. The air around you turned static at the revving of an engine or two coming from right behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck raised into goosebumps and you called out his name once more.

 “It’s fine, baby- shit-” you heard a sharp intake of breath and you lifted your head slightly so that you could rest your forehead on Marks shoulder, letting your eyes screw tightly shut.

 The bike swerved violently to the right as you heard the first gun-shot ring out, it’s deafening sound leaving a painful ringing in your ears. “What the fuck was that? Was that a gun-shot? Holy crap, oh my God-” you stopped yourself and were now verging on terrified as you buried your face further into his warm body. “Mark? What’s going on?”

 “Just hold on real tight, okay?” he briefly glanced back to your quivering, hunched over figure, placing a reassuring hand on the lower part of your thigh, hoping to send you some form of comfort – it didn’t really work. “We’re gonna be fine”

 He seemed determined to get you both out of this mess unscathed, urging his bike to reach dangerous speeds as he steered you both through the bustling traffic of the city, weaving between cars and turning down backstreets, trying desperately to lose your unwanted companions. His entire body was tensed - you could feel it. The adrenaline that was rushing through his blood was causing his veins to pulsate and protrude and his arms were firm with concentration, his grip on the handles of his motorcycle never wavering.

 Another shot rang out. The bike juddered speedily along a small one-way street as you both felt the impact of a bullet nestling itself into the framework; luckily not hindering your getaway speed. “For fucks sake” he cursed as he noted the damage to his precious motorcycle.

 You were muttering a mantra under your breath as you prayed to the Gods that you didn’t believe in; you prayed to Ares and Dionysus and Hades. You chanted and begged to Marks Godlike entity, willing the gunfire to end and for you to be able to have him in piece. You just wanted to be with Mark. That was all. You wanted to enjoy his presence without constantly feeling the watchful gaze of someone lurking in the shadows. You’d been on edge about it ever since you’d received that text, maybe this was your punishment. Perhaps you’d have to endure this as your comeuppance, your retribution for disobeying your fathers’ wishes. What you didn’t realise, however, was that your father wasn’t your greatest threat.

 The wind only grew colder as you sped along the quiet streets, it seemed that Mark was leading you out of the city and away from the bustling streets. The cloud of polluted air covering the city faded until you could only smell fresh, salty air and the never-ending traffic blurred into the soft sound of waves crashing against the sand of the nearby beach. Mark had brought you to the sea.

 “They’re gone” he called over his shoulder as you slowed to a halt at the empty end of the beach. You didn’t dare move from your place behind him, holding him so tightly you feared you may be suffocating him, but he didn’t complain. He instead hung his head low and released his grip on the handlebars, opting to drop his head into his hands and let out the breath he’d been holding in for the past fifteen minutes. “C’mon”.

 You took the hand that Mark offered you once he’d stepped onto the rotting wood of the boardwalk next to you, letting him help your shaking form stand up. You looked up at him with fearful eyes, you didn’t know what to think. Who were they? Had your dad sent them after Mark? After you? You weren’t sure if you wanted to know, you were just glad to be standing back on your own two feet and by the safety of the ocean. You felt safe with Mark, regardless.

You let him guide you down the grassy dunes and onto the soft white sand, neither of you exchanging any words for quite some time. You were in shock, perhaps. You weren’t really sure where to begin. The two of you took your time drinking in the lengthy stretch of sand before you, hands loosely linked together in an attempt to reassure one another that you were both okay.

 It was Mark who spoke up first. He let out a shaky sigh after you’d been walking aimlessly along the beach for several painfully silent minutes. “I guess I should probably start talking, right?” he let out a nervous laugh and lifted his free hand to rub at the back of his neck, something you’d picked up on as a nervous habit of his.

 You looked up at him, the look in your eyes enough to tell him that he should explain himself.

 “The company I work for, the errands I run aren’t exactly legal” he started, not even able to look you in the eye as he spoke. “I’m so sorry you’re caught up in this, y/n,” his voice breaking as he spoke.

 “What do you mean? I’m not caught up in anything. We lost them, Mark. We’re alright.” You stopped walking, tugging on his hand until he turned around and stood in front of you. The almighty, Godlike figure you’d first met suddenly looked like a trembling mess, his tough gaze breaking under your scrutiny.

 “God, I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you.” Mark whispered softly as he looked into your eyes, his pupils flitting around your face, he seemed uneasy. You weren’t entirely sure you’d heard him correctly, though. Mark loved you. He loved you, and you were too stupid to see it. “Why did it have to be you?”

 As you looked up at the raven-haired boy, you realised something. Or rather, you understood something. You understood what it felt like to have something that you never wanted to lose. In the few fleeting weeks you’d known Mark, you’d grown to care for him. His towering frame made you feel small and helpless but being in his presence somehow also made you feel powerful and free. When you were with him, it felt like nothing else mattered, he was everything; he was the air that you breathed, the drug that you were addicted to, the celestial being that you didn’t know you craved so badly until he’d first kissed you. You needed him, and perhaps you did love him, even after only a short time, you’d grown so attached.

 He plucked his phone from his pocket and looked at the text he’d seemingly just received, swiftly putting it back in his pocket before you could see, “Not now, God. Not yet.” He muttered frantically, he was manic, the look in his eyes unlike anything he’d ever expressed to you before.

 “This wasn’t the plan, this wasn’t meant to happen. I’ve fucked this all up and I cannot express how sorry I truly am-,” he cut his rambling off when you reached up to cup his face in the smooth palms of your hands, stroking your thumbs lovingly over his cheeks. He was a wreck, a trembling cage of beauty in your hands, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss his fears away.

 “They gave me an assignment and I don’t know what I was thinking when I accepted it,” he searched your eyes in panic, lifting his own large palms to cover your dainty hands, pulling your hands down to rest on his broad chest. “They’ll kill me if I don’t deliver, I always complete my missions, I-” he heaved out a deep breath and gave himself a moment to think. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

 “Baby, it’s okay. We can figure this out together, alright?” you were calm as you spoke, although your heart was racing ninety to the dozen. You were scared, yes. But Mark made you feel safe, you had nothing to fear when you were with him, that much you were sure of now.

 You grasped his hands tightly in yours as he held them against his own chest, the thundering beat of his heart hard to miss. “I love you.”

 “Let me love you, Mark,” you trained your eyes on his lips and leaned into him, melting into his embrace completely the second your lips met his. You kissed him so delicately, letting your feelings mold into every fibre of his being with each and every peck, each time your lips met becoming more and more heavenly. He wrapped you up in his arms and you couldn’t possibly be any closer to one another no matter how hard you tried; your chests were pressed flush against each other, your hands touching every inch of skin as your tongues met in a passionate dance.

 “Don’t shut me out any longer,” you gasped as you broke away for air momentarily, before reattaching your lips to his in a drawn-out kiss. “I can’t get enough of you, Mark,” you panted, digging your fingertips into his shoulders in utter, blown-out bliss.

 Marks hands travelled from yours to meet around your waist, your lower back, your hips, your neck. He was touching you everywhere, like it was the last time he would touch you, kiss you, like this. His lips sucked on yours and his kisses were feverish and open mouthed, his thigh propped between your legs as he tried to keep you both steady. He finally settled one of his hands to rest between your ear and your jaw, pulling away to admire your wind-swept state in the heat of the moment. “You’re beautiful, y/n. You know that?” you could see tears beginning to form in the corners of the gorgeous, doe eyes you’d fallen into so deeply, his gaze leering so heavily into your own.

 He pressed a final, barely-there kiss to your supple lips before dropping his head into the crook of your neck languidly. His hot breath stuttered against your neck, your hairs standing on end as you bathed in his being. His hold on you felt like molten lava against your skin, his very touch burning hot onto your sensitive skin, leaving red trails wherever his fingertips travelled.

 “I love you, please forgive me,” he sounded distraught.

 You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, and another shiver once you felt the cold metal come between your bodies, although you didn’t have time to react before you felt it, before you heard it. The sound in itself would have been enough to make you faint, it was piercing and deadly and you were gone. The gun between you fell to the floor as Mark shook violently in horror at your now limp body, which had now fallen, crumbled lifelessly into his arms. Your heart. He’d shot you straight through your heart, he’d put a bullet through all your love for him.

 “I’m so sorry,” he was hysterical, yet unnervingly tranquil at the same time.  

 “They told me I had to kill you. Your fathers’ company is our biggest threat and I-,” he paused, shaking his head as the tears began to cascade silently down his cheeks. “I had to do it. I had to make him vulnerable, I had to put work first.”

 “I didn’t have a choice, I’m so fucking sorry, y/n,” he lowered himself to the ground and sobbed as his arms thrashed into your unmoving body, his fists clenching at your blood-soaked clothes. The colour drained from your skin and in turn, Marks face paled in trepidation, his heart felt heavy, yet so incredibly empty. He loves you, but he’d shot you. You were dead.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

when you’re gone i’ll still be Bloody Mary

oof everything but the fight isn’t my best and you can tell i got bored and started rushing at the end BUT!! here is today’s fic! i hope it makes you mad!

Title from Bloody Mary by Lady Gaga

Word count: 5024

TW: Violence, blood, asphyxiation

———————

For better or for worse, the kids were alive and well again, and ever since then, the queens have changed. Everyone has noticed it- the sudden shift in behavior and attitude caught a lot of attention. Suddenly, they lost all their personality and just became a slave to the maternal mentality that awakens in their brains at the sight of their children.

First, there was Anne and Elizabeth. They didn’t look alike at all- Anne with her chocolate brown hair done in spacebuns and Elizabeth looking as if she was Merida from Brave- but they shared a similar gremlin-like gene. Anne was probably the least overbearing with her motherly attitude- she was still very much caring and loving, but she gave her daughter space and let her do whatever she wanted...which wasn’t exactly a good thing. Elizabeth had way too much freedom, especially towards Maggie, who would always get very quiet when the girl came around her. But Maggie tried, tried to be happy to see the girl again, and tried to be happy for her best friend, but her smile was very tight and forced, and pain would always flicker in her eyes whenever she saw the two together. She was dreading the worst- waiting for the sword hanging over Anne’s head to finally fall again.

Then there was Jane and Edward. Unlike her predecessor, Jane was extremely overbearing with the whole mum thing. She was always checking on her son, making sure he was happy and that everything was okay, and she pampered him constantly. Somehow, Edward didn’t seem to mind at all. He was basically living in the lap of luxury. Not even Kitty was bothered by this! She was just happy to finally get to be the big sibling in the family.

Thirdly, and most surprising, there was Cathy and Mae. The toddler actually appearing was a huge shocker to everyone, especially Cathy, but she took up responsibility for her daughter very quickly. She was very patient with the little girl, unlike Bessie, who had to leave the room whenever Mae would cry or even simply just giggle. Every time this happened, Cathy’s rage built up a little higher. It wouldn’t be long until she finally blew her top.

Finally, there was Aragon and Mary. It was easy to know that they were related; Mary seemed to get everything from her mouth when it came to looks- skin tone, eyes, hair, height, jawline, nose. However, there was one thing Mary inherited from her father: his bloodlust. Aragon, of course, didn’t acknowledge what her daughter had done at all. She was sheltering her mind from the crime, pretending it doesn’t exist because, to her, it didn’t if nobody brought it up. So nobody did.

Seeing all the kids was weird again, but Mary was by far the strangest, or at least to Joan. Mary appeared to be sixteen, maybe fifteen, so it was odd seeing her younger than Joan, but Joan pushed that aside and just tried to befriend the girl. After all, they had a common interest- having Aragon as a mother. Or, well, mother figure in Joan’s case. It wasn’t official yet.

“Hey, Mary!”

After everything was settled with the kid’s arrival was when Joan decided to make her move. She didn’t want to hold out much longer or it may seem impolite of her.

Mary turned to Joan, and Joan got a sudden bad feeling as she approached her further, like she was a sheep walking right into the den of a hungry hyena.

And now that it was mentioned, Mary kinda did look like a hyena. If Joan concentrated enough, she could almost smell the pungent, rank scent of death that clung to the girl as it did to the scavengers.

“Uhh. Hey.” Mary said. She was looking at Joan as if she were a dirty peasant clambering into her throne room. “And you are...?”

“Joan.” Joan said. “I’m the music director and pianist. Aragon and I are friends!”

Mary squinted at Joan. “Are you sure? Mother doesn’t mention you.”

“Well- maybe not as a friend, per se.” Joan scuffed her foot against the ground, trying her best not to do a giddy little happy dance as she said, “She- well, she sees me as a daughter!”

Mary blinked.

And then she started laughing.

The image of a hyena floated back to the surface as she did so- her laugh is barking and shrill. It grates Joan’s ears like barbed claws or scorpion stingers.

“You?” Mary asked for confirmation.

Now slightly flustered, Joan nodded.

Mary laughed again.

“Oh, that is adorable!” She wiped her eyes with a slim finger that seemed more like a talon. “Seriously, that is just too cute! My mother! Being yours!” Another chortle.

“It’s true!” Joan squeaked. Her voice is pitching and wavering slightly, which doesn’t help her case at all.

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Mary said. “In your dreams, maybe. Why would Mother ever want you as her daughter? What makes you so special?” She tilted her head at Joan, and Joan just managed by the skin of her teeth to not squirm under her gaze. It felt like the ex-princess was sizing her up....estimating how big the wooden stakes would need to be when she set her ablaze.

“I-”

“Actually,” Mary cut her off. “don’t answer that! No offense, but I don’t care.”

She swung around to leave, not giving Joan a chance to defend herself.

“Thanks for the laugh, June!”

She walked off, disappearing further into the theater and leaving Joan alone.

“...My name is Joan.”

———

It’s been five months since that first interaction, and Joan swore Mary had something against her. She always saw the girl glaring at her from a distance, like she was imagining how good her head would look on the end of a flaming torch.

It gave Joan the creeps, to say the least.

But it didn’t end there. Mary began to torment and taunt Joan constantly- whether it being teasing or purposely making her fuck up somehow, Mary tried to make Joan’s life a living hell. And when she tried to tell Aragon, the queen got mad. Like, really pissed off. Joan doesn’t tell her about the harassment anymore. Especially when she got terribly ill the next day.

The thought that Mary somehow poisoned her for snitching scares her even more.

What’s worse: Aragon was starting to spend a lot less time with Joan. That was natural, of course, but Joan’s jealousy just couldn’t handle it. Especially when it was Mary getting all the queen’s attention.

But what could she do? Aragon would never choose Mary over her.

———

The sound of her dressing room door shutting and the lock clicking snapped Joan out of her workaholic reverie. She snapped around and was startled to find Mary standing there, her hands pressed together and folded neatly against her stomach.

(Joan remembers something about the princess having several pregnancy issues. She wonders if those still exist within her after reincarnation, and if they’re the reason she’s so bitchy.)

“Can I help you?” Joan said impatiently. She didn’t have time or the coffee to deal with this right now- she had work to do.

“Yes, actually,” Mary said. She crossed the room in just a few quick strides; her movements were poised and confident- she knew what she was doing. “I just wanted to talk to you about Mother.”

“What about her?” Joan asked cautiously. Red flags are already going off in her head, if the fact that the ex-princess locked the door wasn’t enough to tell her that this situation seemed sketchy.

“Back off.”

“What?”

“Back off of Mother.” Mary said. Her voice is still languid and smooth, but there’s now an underlying firmness to it- a drop of poison in the honeyed words.

Joan didn’t know why she thought for even a split second that this was going to be a truce or an opportunity to finally make friends with the princess. She should have known she was walking right into Mary’s flaming claws.

“You know she never actually loved you, right?” Mary went on. “You didn’t believe it, did you? Be honest.”

Joan bit her tongue until she could taste blood. Her fingers clenched into fists, which Mary glanced at. The princess smirked.

“Of course you did.” She said. “I can’t blame you. You have nothing. Someone as meaningless and worthless as you has to cling to whatever they can get their hands on. It’s quite entertaining. Like dangling a carrot on a stick in front of you!”

“You’re lying,” Joan growled. She drove her fingernails into her palms even deeper until she felt the skin break open. “Aragon— She didn’t say that. She wouldn’t.”

“I’m not.” Mary said smoothly. “Why would I lie to you, Joan? You know I don’t care enough about you to do that. God, just standing here and talking to you makes me worry that I’m gonna get some of your desperation and neediness rubbed off on me!” She laughed like a hyena. It hurts Joan’s ears.

Joan can’t reply. She can’t do anything but sit there and take the insults hurled at her. She does, however, flinch back in her chair when Mary walks right up to her and gently cupped her cheek.

Her touch feels like fire.

“I have to thank you, though,” Mary crooned in a way a mother would when talking to their child, her voice like sickly sweet venom. “For taking care of my mother. But there’s no need anymore.” She pats Joan’s cheek. “There’s no use for you any longer. So why don’t you do us all a favor and just go crawl into the hole you came out of and die.”

Joan’s breath hitched slightly. She lowered her head so Mary couldn’t see the glisten in her eyes, but she knew she did from the sneer above her.

And that’s what made the rage bubble up.

Joan’s anger was not a hot, volcanic thing, but rather a cold, resentful feeling that ran in her blood for a long time. Her chest would turn icy and she suddenly couldn’t care about anyone else. Only justice for her broken self esteem.

She grabbed Mary by the wrist and yanked her hand off of her cheek. This startles the princess, who staggers back for a moment, then narrows her eyes. Her other hand comes around fast and slaps Joan hard across the face.

Like that, something in Joan’s brain sparked to life. An instinct she didn’t even know she had in her. It told her to fight.

( “We may be thieves, but we aren’t killers,” Her brother had once said. Ironically, he was sharpening an iron pick at the time. “But if you feel your life's on the line, Joan, you fight back. Whether you like it or not, to you, your life is the most important thing in this world. Not mine, not any of your friend’s, your own. You should protect it.”

“Where should I hit someone?” Joan had asked. She remembered shifting anxiously after asking it.

Her brother thought for a moment, tapping the pointy pick against his chin. Then, he smiled.

“The knees or stomach. Then get them in the jaw to incapacitate them. Your nails and teeth are also your greatest allies.” His eyes went dark for a moment. “But...if you fear they’re trying to kill you, then go for the throat and don’t let go.”)

Mary didn’t see Joan coming, even when glowering right at her. She hadn’t been expecting her prey to spring out of the chair and barrel into her at full speed, but here she was, being driven back against the nearby makeup table, watching tabletop items scatter and clatter in various directions in slow motion, before senses returned to her in a flash and she felt the sparks that shot up her and alerted her brain of the threat.

Joan had her hands on Mary’s shoulders and one knee wedged between her legs, the plated bone pressing uncomfortably against the sensitive bundle of nerves her thighs would usually shield from harm. She pushed backwards, causing Mary’s back to bend against the table edge in a way that made it feel like her spine would snap if she didn’t get away quickly.

The princess squirmed, then finally got her arms free. She shoved against Joan’s chest, which caused her to stumble back slightly. It was enough of a chance for Mary, as she took her turn to do the ramming.

Both girls collapsed to the floor in a wondrous heap, where they tousled like angry cats. It was an awkward, but deadly dance they did on the floor until they ripped away and scuttled away for air. Scratches gleamed red and pink on their sweaty faces, like they just got into a fight with a sentient knife and lost. Bits of blood and flecks of skin cling beneath their nails.

“So you do have some fight in you,” Mary panted. If she was trying to make Joan angrier, it was definitely working. “I’m impressed.”

“I don’t quite appreciate compliments from murderers.” Joan grit.

Something flashed in Mary’s eyes- guilt? Terror? Trauma? For a split second, she almost looked like she felt bad for what she had done and what she was doing now. Joan could almost see a girl in there who felt guilty about everything, and who maybe understood why it had been wrong.

But that girl was never going to be the one anyone saw.

“I am not!” Mary shrilled. “I was saving my people from those—those leeches!”

“Saving them?” Joan scoffed. She struggles to her feet, feeling the scratches scattered across her body lighting up with fresh pain. “Is that what you call burning their friends to death?”

Mary bared her teeth. Joan flashes her own right back.

“Shut up!” Mary snapped. “You weren’t there, so you have no idea what I had to do or why I had to do it!”

“Why are you acting like this?” Joan said. “You have another chance! You can redeem yourself! Why are you wasting it by acting like such a bitch?!”

Mary lunged at Joan. Joan sidestepped just in time to avoid being rammed, but Mary moved again, too. She whipped around and drove her fist into Joan’s stomach.

All the breath in Joan’s lungs left her in a whoosh and a spray of saliva droplets that splattered onto Mary’s yellow-and-violet striped shirt. She staggered backwards, snaking her arms around her aching stomach tightly, and her knees buckled underneath her.

She’s had the wind knocked out of her more than once and she knew that in a few moments, she’d be fine again—or as fine as someone who’d just been socked in the gut could possibly be—but this wasn’t exactly the kind of situation where she had moments to spare for breath-catching.

And on top of that, the human body had a tendency to freak out when it couldn’t breathe. Like, a lot.

She choked and spluttered, mouthing like a fish out of water as she tried to pull air into lungs that just weren’t ready to get back on their feet yet. Through the oxygen-deprived haze that was covering her vision, she saw Mary’s bloodthirsty expression return to confidence, like Joan’s struggle for air sated her hunger for suffering for now. But it would be back.

It was only really then that Joan realized what she had gotten herself into.

Joan knew that she wasn’t going to get away from this bitch if she relied completely on pure strength. Mary was taller and stronger than she was, plus she was fueled by insanity, which seemed to supply her with an endless stream of energy. She wasn’t knowledgeable in combat by any means, but if Lara Croft has taught her anything, it’s that you need to use tactics.

That thought of a possible plan was cut short, however, when Mary knocked her to the ground.

Pain rattled up Joan’s spine when she hit the floor. Fingers close around her throat; Mary was on her. Her hips are straddled and she’s pinned to the floor. She was being choked. She could feel the princess’ thumbs press down on her airways.

“Stop struggling!” Mary growled. “Just let it take you.”

Joan gags helplessly, clawing at the fingers around her throat. Even when she scratches Mary’s hands to bloodied shreds, she still doesn’t let go. She tries to gouge the princess’ eyes out, but her eyelids prove to be a strong barrier above the sockets, which she so desperately wanted to sink her nails into. Mary wrings her neck when she doesn’t stop and Joan choked, feeling pops and crackles shooting down her spinal cord.

“There we go...” Mary cooed when she saw Joan’s head flop to the side. She was still gasping like a fish out of water, but it wouldn’t be long, now. “Good girl.” She spoke to the music director as if she were a dog or one of her dead babies. “Such a good girl...”

Joan made a pathetic squeaking wheeze, which made Mary croon down at her alarmingly blue face pitifully.

“I would stroke your hair to help you along if I could,” Mary said. “But I can’t. I have to say, though, you are very obedient. Well trained. You make it too easy!”

Joan’s eyes were starting to roll back into her skull. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth, suddenly feeling like a block of heavy lead. The ice in her veins is smothered by Mary’s fire. It lights in her chest and incinerates her lungs to smoldering ashes. Her throat is being burned open from the princess’ burning touch.

This was it. She was about to die. In just a few moments, Joan’s strength would deplete, her neck would snap, and she would be just another body on Mary’s growing pile.

Then, it would all be over.

Cinders are stoked through all of Joan’s nerves, numbing them in a terrible, blistering way and rendering them useless. Her arms now lie outstretched, sprawled aimlessly across the floor. There, her fingers twitch against something.

Mary began to twist Joan’s neck back in a sickening, horrible way. She keeps her victim’s throat wrenched and was just about to snap it like she would a little bird when something sharp and pointy is stabbed into her lower stomach.

Mary shouts as zigzags of pain shot through her abdomen. She ripped her hands back to instinctively shield her stomach, as if she thought there may be a baby in her womb that she needed to protect. Instead, she just found a large thumbtack sticking out of her belly.

“You bitch!!” Mary shrieked at Joan, who was struggling to catch her breath.

She pulled the thumbtack out with a small squeak and her eyes widened at the sight of the glistening red blood that coated the tip.

Like before, a very guilty person appears in her eyes, and even on her face this time. She watched her blood slide down the length of the needle and drip off in thick droplets.

Drip, drip, drip...

Joan reared up like a furious ram, horns gleaming in the fluorescent lights, and slammed her entire body into Mary.

They both go down, but there’s a lot less scratching this time. Mary is jarred out of her trance and is momentarily stunned because of it. Joan lands sprawled on top of her, out of breath from that small effort alone. Her lungs and trachea just weren’t ready for that much action yet.

Still. She didn’t have any time to wait around, even as black spots fluttered across her vision each time she simply took a breath.

So, the one little part of her brain that was smarter than the rest of it was, the part that only seemed to awaken when she was in immediate danger or dying, spontaneously came back to life and drifted in over the panicked alarm bells in her head like the calm voice of the pilot’s intercom over the clamor of a falling plane full of hysterical passengers.

It was her brother’s voice.

“Joan. Do you know how much bacteria is in a human bite?”

She blinked her eyes.

Well. He wasn’t wrong.

“OWWW!!!” Mary howled as Joan clamped her teeth down on her ear. She could feel the incisors grinding against the earlobe and her golden hoop earring shifting uncomfortably. “What the FUCK?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Even in her pained and oxygen deprived daze, even when she couldn’t take in any air as she bites down, even as someone else’s blood seeped into her mouth, Joan still managed a small smirk.

Bet you've never got your ear bitten before, She thought. Bitch.

Mary keened in pain, smothering her face against the tile floor. She couldn’t do anything but writhe with Joan on top of her. But it’s clear Joan was getting a little cocky and that she seemed to forget how clever psychopaths really were.

Not that a tabletop mirror lying nearby made Mary clever.

The entire right side of Joan’s head exploded into bright, colorful bursts of pain as the mirror smashed against it. The glass shattered and shards are driven into her scalp. Joan swayed and then slumped over, and Mary gave her the shove she needed to fully topple to the ground.

Mary scampered backwards and then gingerly felt her ear. It was bloody and already starting to swell up. Her earring was missing, too, leaving her earlobe split in two.

Silence filled the ransacked room- aside from Joan’s moans and raspy breathing, of course.

Then, Mary laughed.

“So what if I killed a few people?” She said as she shakily rose up to her feet. “Some people have to die for others to thrive! I was just…trimming out the fat! Culling the weak! It’s what you have to do to survive in this world.”

Joan just barely managed to look up at her. There’s twin streams of blood running down one side of her face. One crosses over her eye.

“Let me put it like this,” Mary said, sensing her disbelief. “Say you and the other ladies in waiting and queens were in...the apocalypse. Alright? And there’s a group of people who want to take this food supply you found. They’re innocent, but they’re not backing down and you and your group are starving. So...” She twirled her wrist. “You do what you need to do to survive and keep those of greater value alive.”

Joan shook her head as she braced herself on her arms. Her elbows shake treacherously, barely holding her up.

“You don’t...” She wheezed out. Consciousness wavered away from her for a moment. She thought she heard the doorknob wiggle, but it was just nothing. “You can’t...think...like that.” She finally said, each word punctuated with a wince, moan, or heavy gasp. “It’s not...right...”

“If you haven’t noticed, dear, nothing is right in this world. Not anymore.” Mary said.

“No thanks...to you,” Joan grit, and then was delivered a teeth-shattering blow to her jaw.

Mary stood over the girl. She lifts the leg she used to kick Joan with and stepped on her stomach. Bending the knee, the princess applied all her pressure onto Joan’s midriff, weighing her to the ground.

“Joey, this hurts me as much as it hurts you.” She said in that crooning, hyena voice of hers. “But you have to make sacrifices sometimes. You’re just dragging everyone here down. Nobody even looks at you anymore. I’m doing you a favor by putting you down.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Joan spat.

She lifted her head and Mary struck as fast as a bullwhip, pressing it back down to the ground.

“Don’t talk over me!” Mary snapped, her pitch raising slightly. She cleared her throat. “Everything will be fine. You’re just a little blind right now. I’m helping you!”

“That’s what they all say,” Joan gurgled. “But you’ll probably get all wrapped up in killing all over again and burn the whole theater to the ground, you fucking pyro. You’d love to watch this place go up in flames and then you’ll dance on the ashes while listening to the screams of-”

“I said to not talk over me!” Mary yelled, reaching down and digging her fingernails into the red hot crevices on the back of Joan’s head. She watches in amusement as blood comes frothing out of Joan’s mouth, which is hanging open in a silent scream.

Some of that blood sprays out slightly when her lips move to form words.

“I know...your reign...smelled like...burned flesh.” She hissed out.

Mary’s mouth pulled back in a snarl.

“You don’t know anything!”

She drops Joan’s head and steps back, letting her writhe on the floor like a stabbed snake. Then, she pulls a lighter out of her pocket and runs her thumb over the smooth sides as if she thought doing such an action would calm her.

“You barely even know me.” She growled. “Nobody does! People look at me like I’m some sort of demon! Do you know what that is like?”

“It’s what you deserve,” Joan croaked. “Because you are one.”

Mary’s eyes flash. Something in her head has cracked open and every bad thing in her twisted brain is now spilling out like thousands of spiders.

“You know, I was just messing with you before. I wasn’t actually going to let you choke to death.” She said. “But now? Now I’m going to fucking kill you.” She flicked the lighter open and watched the small flame burst to life. “And when I’m done, nobody is ever going to find you.”

Mary leaned down, holding the flame dangerously close to one of Joan’s cloudy eyes.

“Any last words?”

Joan’s last words aren’t really words, per se, rather a mouthful of blood she spits in Mary’s eyes.

The princess reared back in surprise and claws her face as if she thought she had been sprayed with acid. That’s enough for Joan to gather all her strength, draw her legs back, and then drive her foot right into Mary’s knees.

Watching the princess crumple and fall like a broken doll was the highlight of Joan’s entire day. She couldn’t celebrate, though, because she knew Mary would be getting up soon, so she scrambled over to the broken tabletop mirror, raised it over her head, and—

The door flew open.

A scream.

Several screams.

There’s a whizz of gold- Aragon is rushing in. But not towards Joan, who is substantially the more injured one of the two. No, instead, she’s shoved roughly to the side and that’s finally what her conscious needed to cut out.

———

Joan awoke to blinding pain. She was moaning before she could even get her eyes open, which were much heavier than they normally were. She tried to pry them open, but that effort alone nearly made her pass out again. A muddled voice speaks to her...she thinks it’s telling her to calm down.

Something stings against Joan’s head. She whimpers sharply and tries to squirm away, but she can’t move.

“Hey. Sit still.”

Joan moaned again. She can taste copper on her tongue. It makes her stomach churn.

“Joan. Please sit still.”

Her eyes open. Light stabs into them, but she manages to make out the figure of Anne sitting beside her. She blinks dazedly at the woman.

“A...Anne...?” She croaked. Her throat hurt so much. Every word seemed to make it cave in on itself until she felt like she was choking on the syllables and enunciation.

“Hush.” Anne said. There wasn’t even a flicker of goofiness in her at that moment- her face was completely stoney and serious. “Don’t speak.”

“Wh...what...” Joan spoke anyway.

“I said, don’t talk, Joan. You’re hurt.” Anne said. “I shouldn’t even be doing this after what you did, but—”

Her voice cut off. Joan blinked up at her and saw that she’s staring at her neck.

Anne gagged. Joan’s eyes widen in alarm as the woman sprints out of the room with one hand over her mouth. She waits, but Anne does not come back.

Joan rolled off of the couch she’s lying on, recognizing the room she’s in as the shared dressing room between Cathy, Jane, and Kitty. She staggered over to the mirror, feeling like her head was about to explode with every step she took, and looked at what exactly made Anne feel so sick:

The dark, near-black bruise that encircled the entirety of her neck in the horrifying shape of hands.

—

Joan didn’t know how long she laid on that couch, feeling like her brain was oozing out through every orifice. In reality, it was probably only thirty minutes, but it was like an eternity to her before Aragon walked in.

Joan tensed, flinched, and waited to be hit or arrested by a swarm of cops that had been called, but Aragon just sits beside her head. She’s only glanced at for a moment.

“Elizabeth told me everything.” Aragon said grimly. “What Mary said...and did.”

So Joan had heard someone outside the door.

“I...I’m sorry, Joan.” Aragon whispered. “I’m so sorry... I thought she would be good this time. If I just raised her right, then she wouldn’t be the same and everyone could forget about what she did, but...”

She looked down at Joan- at the horrible bruise around her throat. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh my god...” She whispered. It’s obvious she didn’t think the wounds were that bad. “Oh, Joan... Oh, my sweet baby girl...”

She covered her face with her hands and began to cry, but didn’t dare touch Joan. It’s like she was scared of hurting her, too.

Joan watched her mother figure weep before gathering her strength and crawling forward so she could rest her head in Aragon’s lap. The queen gasps softly in surprise and then wraps Joan in her arms, sort of forgetting to be gentle.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Aragon sobbed. “I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t know— I didn’t—”

Joan can’t speak, so she just nuzzles Aragon as best as she could.

“We’ll get you help, baby.” Aragon told her. “I’m going to call the police. Mary will never lay a finger on you again, I promise.”

“Mama...” Joan choked out, head spinning.

“I’m right here, sweet girl.” Aragon said as she dialed the emergency line.

“999, what’s your emergency?” The operator answered.

“Please, I need an ambulance.” Aragon begged. “My daughter was attacked.”

[estamos-destinadas]

So, I recently--and by that I mean this past week--started working on a new story idea for Juliantina.

I’ve had a bad case of writer’s block these past couple of months--the ideas are there, I just couldn’t seem to put them into words. It was such a relief to me when, after I thought of this idea, the words just started flowing.

Since this story has me really excited, I thought I’d share the first half of the first chapter of the story. As always, I won’t post it on Ao3 until it’s done. And please, if you can, refrain from reblogging 😅-- I kinda feel guilty when I see my story ideas going around and they’re unfinished.

Anyway, story under the cut (please work because this is long.)

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On Earth Year 3010, the year Juliana turned ten, she and her mother, Lupé, left the slums of Santonio for the Palacio del Progreso.

The Progreso was in fact a sprawling estate, the “Palacio” in its name taken from the grand mansion at the heart of it. It was the residence of the Carvajals, whose patriarch, León Carvajal, was one of the Administrators of the Nor-Am Oligarchy. The thirteen Administrator families were descended from the billionaires of hundreds of years ago, their riches accumulating with each new generation, wealth unchecked becoming power unopposed until North America stopped pretending to be a democracy and became a nation ruled by its thirteen richest families.

Juliana did not know that particular history. In the slums, education was a fever dream, and there was no time to dream. She did know—she could observe—that the Progreso was as different from Santonio as it was possible to be.

Where Santonio had murky canals, the Progreso had crystal clear pools; where Santonio was blanketed with smog, the air within the Progreso’s perimeter was cleaned by powerful purifiers; where Santonio was all filthy and derelict buildings, the Progreso was true to its palatial name; where the ground of Santonio could barely grow weeds, the Progreso’s greenhouses and gardens boasted plants and flowers and trees that no longer occurred naturally in Earth’s poisoned soil.

Lupé had taken a job as one of the caretakers of the Progreso’s gardens. Lucía, an old friend, and now León Carvajal’s new wife, had gotten it for her. She and Lucía had used to work at one of the factories owned by the Carvajals, where they’d worked 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, all through the year for little pay. But then León had seen Lucía and had fallen in love, taking her to the Progreso. Lucía, who would not forget the life she’d led until then, had found jobs for her old friends within the estate’s walls.

In the Nor-Am Oligarchy, connection mattered.

That connection gave Lupé a job with gentler hours and better pay. The connection meant that she and her daughter could live in the staff’s compound within the Progreso, in an apartment that was much bigger than their old matchbox of a room in Santonio. It meant that Juliana could stop taking odd jobs to supplement their income, could stop worrying about her next meal. It meant that, finally, she could start getting her education.

⁂

Education was a completely new experience for Juliana and, at first, it felt like butting her head against a wall, or maybe trying to breathe underwater in one of Santonio’s canals.

It did help, however, that León Carvajal provided air-conditioned vehicles for his residential staff’s children, which daily took them outside of the Progreso, through affluent but smog-filled streets, and to a nearby school with air-conditioned buildings. It also helped that the Progreso’s main library was open to its residents, from the Carvajal family, to their guests, and even to the estate’s numerous staff and servants.

Every day, after school, when the other kids went to play in the rec area of the staff’s compound, Juliana went to the library, trying to catch up to classmates who had been going to school their whole lives.

That was where she met Valentina, almost a month after she and her mother arrived at the Palacio del Progreso.

Juliana, having taken a break from reviewing her lessons, was flipping through a book about 21st-century art—an actual paper book, that was how rich the Carvajals were—when she heard the sound of poorly-suppressed sobs. It was coming from a nearby row of kiosks, where one could download books and magazines and all sorts of digital media to their own personal devices.

Juliana decided to investigate. She passed by the kiosks, looking through the gaps between them, until she saw a girl sitting at a table near the windows. The girl, who was gazing downwards with her shoulders hunched, seemed to be her age. Juliana hesitated for a moment before approaching the girl.

“Estás bien?” Juliana asked.

The girl’s shoulders stiffened, her soft sobs cutting off, but she made no reply.

“Necesitas algo?”

“Estar sola, necesito… estar sola.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I heard you crying and I thought—” Juliana cut herself off. What was she thinking, bothering someone who clearly wanted to be alone. “You’re right,” she awkwardly scuffed the sole of her shoe against the marble floor. “I’ll let you be.”

With that, Juliana turned on her heel, but she had only taken one step away before the girl called out to her with a, “Hey, sorry, wait.” When Juliana turned back to her, the girl added, “I think—I think I’m fine, thank you.”

If the tears in her eyes did not tell Juliana that the girl was lying, the way her voice shook did. Her heart went out to the sad girl, who had the prettiest face Juliana had ever seen, though her brain filed that information away for later.

Juliana sat on the chair across from the girl. “So, what is it?” she asked, frank as any ten-year old. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to help solve the girl’s problem, even though she’d just met her, even if she didn’t know who she was.

The girl wiped her tears before launching into it. “My dad wants me to go to school! I don’t want to go to school. I want to stay here and read what I want to read, not what schools think I should read. And I want to go with him or my sister when they take trips to other nations, or to the moon, or to the other planets. If I go to school, I can only go with them during the holidays.”

Juliana had never met another kid who talked about travelling to other nations or other planets so casually, but she focused on what they did have in common. It seemed that the girl had also never been to school before.

“Oh, well, school’s not so bad, you know,” Juliana told the girl. “I started it for the first time last month too. Reading’s really hard—” Lupé had taught Juliana how to read when she was younger, but the slums of Santonio was not conducive to such an activity, “—but I’m learning a lot of really cool things. Like, did you know that North and South America used to be connected by land? I didn’t even know there was a South America!”

The girl gaped wordlessly at Juliana, her blue eyes wide and curious. When she found her voice, she began delicately, “I… I know. I’m learning with my tutors, but I don’t want to go to school. I want to do things at my own pace.”

“You can do that? Learn with tutors, I mean?” Juliana asked, borrowing the girl’s phrasing. It would be nice to learn at her own pace. It just seemed to Juliana that all her classmates were far ahead of her.

“Yes?” The girl cleared her throat. “I mean, yes.”

“Oh,” Juliana said, feeling like she was missing something. It began to dawn on her that the clothes the girl was wearing looked very expensive. On a hunch, she asked, “Do you live at the compound?”

“Huh?” the girl started, though she quickly added, “Oh, the staff’s compound! Uhm, no. I live here.”

“Like the guest houses?” Juliana almost begged. The guest houses were near the library after all.

The girl’s lips turned at the corners. “No, at the mansion.”

Which meant, Juliana realised, that the girl was a member of the Carvajal family, and that the dad she’d been talking about was León Carvajal himself. Juliana blushed, but before she could really process how embarrassing it was to tell the daughter of an Administrator of the North American Oligarchy that she had not known there was a South America, the girl’s smile broke out.

It was a kind smile. The girl’s gentle gaze told Juliana that she wasn’t being judged for her ignorance.

“You know,” the girl began, “I’m a really good reader. I got almost a hundred percent in my speed reading and reading comprehension tests.”

It was Juliana’s turn to gape at the girl. “Okay?”

“I could teach you!” the girl said excitedly, her previous complaints about school seemingly forgotten. “You said you found reading hard, I could help you get better at it. Only if you want to, of course,” she added quickly.

“I—really?” Juliana asked, not quite believing that the daughter of León Carvajal would want to help her get better at reading.

“Yes, really,” the girl said fervently. “Oh, but I don’t even know your name.” Before Juliana could reply, the girl extended her hand across the table. “I’m Valentina.”

As Juliana took the offered hand, she began to mirror the girl’s wide grin. “Juliana.”

⁂

A friendship was quickly formed.

True to her word, Valentina helped Juliana get better at reading, and even helped her with her lessons. School became easier for Juliana, and Valentina became more amenable to school, as long as she went to the same one as Juliana. Valentina was a year older than Juliana so they would not be in the same class, but at least they would be in the same place.

It spun another argument between Valentina and her father; the school Juliana and the other children of the residential staff went to did not have the prestige befitting a daughter of the Administrator. But Valentina was stubborn and used to getting her way, so Administrator León Carvajal had to compromise. Valentina was allowed to go to the same school as Juliana, as long as she continued to study with her tutors. Valentina was perfectly content with the arrangement.

Outside of school, where Valentina wanted to go, Juliana happily followed. Not that Valentina went where Juliana did not want to go, or could not follow. They spent all their time together, whether it was at the library, the gardens to visit Juliana’s mom, the sports and rec areas around the Progreso, particularly the poolhouse to go swimming, even the mansion itself. The last one took some getting used to for Juliana, but she eventually became comfortable enough to not feel like an intruder in the Carvajal family mansion.

They were inseparable.

One could say that Juliana and Valentina took to each other as a fish takes to the sea, or as a bird takes to the sky, but most birds had gone extinct, and what fish there was left lived in the depths of the ocean, or were cultivated in tanks or artificial bodies of water.

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The older people had a different metaphor for it: linked by the guts.

One time, Lupé burst out in fond exasperation, “Why do you always have to go with the Administrator’s daughter everywhere? Are your guts linked together?”

Another time, León asked, “Are you really not going with me and Lucía to Venus because Juliana can’t come?” When Valentina answered in the affirmative, he observed in amusement, “You two are linked by the guts.” A few days after that, Juliana was preparing for her first interplanetary trip.

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Guille, Valentina’s older brother, remarked that they were like the entangled particles of paired Qubes.

Qubes—or Quantumly-Entangled Communication Boxes—always came in pairs. The subatomic particles inside one Qube were quantumly-entangled with the particles of one other Qube. Whatever configuration the particles of one Qube were in, that was always reflected in its paired Qube.

Nothing can travel faster than light. The speed of light itself was a constant, limited, and as a communication medium light was prone to interference.

It meant that, in the past, off-world communication was slow and unreliable. When physicists and engineers unlocked the secrets of quantum entanglement almost a millennium ago, the exchange of messages became instantaneous with paired Qubes.

Nothing can travel faster than light, but there was a way to work around it.

Of course, Qubes were of the most use in interplanetary or interstellar communications. Within a planet’s atmosphere, radio waves and cables were still the more efficient form of communication, if only because they were much cheaper and faster to make.

So Valentina balked at her brother’s analogy. “That makes no sense, Guille,” she told him in no uncertain terms. “Entangled particles—paired Qubes—are useful when they are very far apart from each other, like light years apart. I don’t want to be light years apart from Juliana.”

They were at the mansion’s kitchen, watching Chivis, one the family’s personal servants, prepare an afternoon snack for Valentina and Juliana when Guille joined them and made his observation.

Glancing at her best friend, Valentina caught Juliana’s shy smile at her declaration. Valentina couldn’t help but mirror her smile. They’d known each other for a little over a year by then; Valentina understood the irrefutable truth of her statement. She did not want to be apart from Juliana. In fact, she wanted to be as close to her as possible, often longing to brush Juliana’s hair, to rub her cheeks against Juliana’s cheeks. With the kitchen counter between them, Valentina settled for grabbing Juliana’s hand. Juliana met her gaze; Valentina’s smile widened.

Guille waved a hand at the two of them, as if to demonstrate his point, but Valentina and Juliana were still gazing at each other and Chivis ignored him. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat to get their attention, “if you two lived light years apart, you two would still be—” he linked his hands through interlaced fingers, “—entangled.”

Juliana felt her face heat up, pleased and flattered. She thought it was nice, to hear Valentina’s brother make such remarks about their closeness.

Valentina thought differently. “Don’t even joke about that,” she said, slapping her brother’s arm, not appreciating the idea of living far away from Juliana.

Guille laughed as he moved away from Valentina, pretending to be hurt. Valentina laughed at his reaction. Juliana laughed at Valentina’s laughter, the way her eyes crinkled and her cheeks dimpled.

Chivis, much older and with much more experience of life, did not laugh at their banter.

⁂

Nothing can travel faster than light. The speed of light itself was a constant, a hard physical limit of the universe: 299,792.5 kilometres per second. In one Earth Year, light traveled a distance of 9.46 trillion kilometres: 1 light year.

The fastest interstellar ships were powered by warp drives, first built by physicists and engineers from over half a millennium ago. The warp ships were named after a fictional technology from millennia-old stories, but whereas the warp ships from the stories could overtake the speed of light by ever-increasing magnitudes, the real warp ships could not. Warp ships could travel nearly as fast as light, but not as fast as, and never faster.

Apart from an obscure reference to old fictional stories, warp ships were so called because of how it warped time for the ship’s passengers. At or near the speed of light, time dilated. To anyone and anything within a warp ship, trips take only a few hours, even a few minutes. To everyone and everything outside it, a ship that traveled a distance of a hundred light years would have taken a hundred Earth Years to get from its origin to its destination.

At the advent of warp ships, a group of astronauts travelled to Proxima Centauri—4 light years from Earth—then after a week at the system returned to Earth for a total distance travelled of 8 light years. To the astronauts, the round trip had taken a few minutes each way; to everyone outside the ship, the trip had taken over 8 years. One of the astronauts had been a mother. When she’d come back, her daughter—left on Earth—had aged 8 years in the absence that to the mother felt much less than that.

Because of the time dilation—the warp—it was impossible to interact with anyone and anything within a ship while it was traveling nearly as fast as light. Not even through Qubes, which were invented a couple of centuries before the warp ships. Even entangled particles could not sync when a second for one meant a lifetime for the other.

To travel in a warp ship at a distance of light years—5, 10, 100—meant to jump in time 5, 10, or 100 years to the future, putting not just space but also time between yourself and your loved ones.

Chivis, older and wiser, knew this. Interstellar travel was a special kind of heartbreak, it was no laughing matter.

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Almost a year after that joking banter between the siblings, Valentina and Guille began to understand that heartbreak.

After warp ships were perfected, humanity began the Hundred Year Exodus. For a hundred years—and more—warp ships carrying thousands of people set off for far flung planets, hoping for a cleaner world, for better societies. Now, centuries later, the human diaspora was spread out over 500 light years from Earth in different directions, linked only by the paired Qubes the emigrants brought with them. But to travel to those colonies, hundreds of light years away, meant leaving the Earth as one knew it for good.

Chivis, who was retiring, had announced just that: she was going away to a colonised planet more than 200 light years’ distance from Earth.

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“By the time she gets there, I’d be dead,” Valentina said lowly to Juliana.

They were lying side by side on Valentina’s bed, on the evening after Chivis’ departure. Valentina and Juliana often had sleepovers at the Carvajal family mansion. Usually they would be giggling over some vid or book or something that happened during the day, but when Juliana joined Valentina that evening, the latter had been crying into her pillows for most of the afternoon.

Valentina continued talking. “I know that she chose that planet because her children decided to move there, but she is—was—is,” Valentina huffed, even the tenses got confusing, “she’s like family to me too.” Valentina knew that she could not have hoped to compare against Chivis’ children and grandchildren when the woman had still been weighing her decision, but it had still hurt when Chivis had told her that she was leaving. “I’m going to miss her. I already miss her.”

“Val,” Juliana said gently, taking her best friend’s hand in hers and interlocking their fingers, “she’s going to miss you too. And it wasn’t an easy decision for her to make. She said so, right?”

“Yeah,” Valentina agreed in a whisper.

“She loved—she loves you Val, that doesn’t change.”

“It still sucks.”

“I know,” Juliana said gently, squeezing Valentina’s hand.

Valentina squeezed back before moving sideways and closing the distance between them so that her head was against Juliana’s shoulder, her hand wrapped around Juliana’s arms, her leg draped over Juliana’s legs.

“It helps that you’re here,” Valentina said. Suddenly overtaken with a certain fear, she gripped Juliana’s arm tightly, but it went away just as quickly and she loosened her hold. “I’m glad you’re here.”

⁂

That was not Valentina’s first experience with loss.

She had only been eight years old when her mother had passed away, and Valentina’s longing for her never quite went out.

“I still look around for her sometimes,” she’d once confessed to Juliana in a whisper, a few months after they’d met.

Even then, Valentina had found it easy to talk to Juliana about anything. She’d been the only person Valentina could really talk to about how it had felt to lose her mother at such a young age. It was the way Juliana had listened to her every word, and had seemed to understand exactly what Valentina had meant.

Valentina had tried to return the favour, tried to ask Juliana about her father, but Juliana had always clammed up when the subject was brought up.

.

It wasn’t until the day Juliana turned thirteen that she opened up about her father. He had not come to celebrate with her and Lupé, but he’d sent her some presents.

“I’m not really cut up that he didn’t come,” Juliana told Valentina matter-of-factly after her party, where she’d invited a few of her classmates. “I’m used to it,” she added with a shrug.

Macario Valdés had rarely ever been around back in Santonio; he had never come to visit once Lupé and Juliana moved to the Progreso.

“It was probably for the best anyway. He would have scared everyone off.”

He was a harsh man, not given to gentleness or affection.

“I’m surprised he even gave me anything.”

He was cold and distant.

“But maybe these actually came from Lupé, and she only pretended that it was from him.”

There was no doubt in Juliana’s mind that Lupé loved him dearly, that Lupé thought he was the most amazing man in the entire world. She could see it from the way Lupé talked about him, from the way Lupé preened on the rare occasion that he called.

To Juliana, he was just her mother’s absent husband. At least that was what she told herself.

Valentina did not understand how anyone could ever choose to be absent from Juliana’s life, but she did not say that out loud. Instead, she asked, “What did he get you?”

“Some books?” Juliana said doubtfully. Lupé had said that she’d downloaded them onto Juliana’s personal tablet, but Juliana hadn’t looked at it yet. “Which, I don’t know why, because there’s a library here.” She did not know what her father could have sent her that was not available in the Progreso’s huge library. “But I guess that means they really were from him.” Lupé would not have gotten her books.

Juliana huffed, waving away thoughts of absent fathers and thoughtless gifts. She looked at Valentina. “Thank you for your presents, by the way. Me encantan mucho.”

She’d already thanked her, but she felt like she could not express her gratitude enough. Valentina had gotten her a painting set, an actual physical painting set, with paper sketchbooks, a few canvases, and pencils and brushes and water colours. Juliana had done normal art—digital art—from the time she’d gotten her first tablet, but she’d always wanted to do art on paper and canvases.

“Of course,” Valentina said, “anything for you, Juls.”

Juliana smiled shyly, meeting Valentina’s eyes until, feeling overwhelmed by the depths of emotion in them, she gazed down at their joined hands and burrowed closer to Valentina, who tightened her hold around Juliana.

They were in Juliana’s bed, about to turn in for the night. Juliana’s other guests had left after the birthday party but Valentina had stayed for the rare sleepover at the Valdéses’ apartment. Juliana’s single bed was much smaller than Valentina’s so it was a tight squeeze, but Juliana didn’t mind. In fact, she liked it a lot.

Juliana liked being pressed close to Valentina. She liked holding Valentina’s hand. She liked it when Valentina hugged her tightly; she would always hug back and never want to let go. She liked it when Valentina kissed her cheeks; that was a new thing that Valentina did, and Juliana could not get enough of it. She liked it when Valentina would watch her for long moments, those pretty blue eyes seemingly glued on Juliana, even though it made her a little shy. And she liked gazing at Valentina in turn, never wanting to take her eyes off of her, because Valentina was the most beautiful person Juliana had ever seen, and she had the prettiest smile that made Juliana’s insides seem to fly.

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This premise/idea is actually not a new one. I’ve been mulling it over in my head for years, but I’ve never been interested in putting one of my ships in this setting until Juliantina--not in writing or even in stories that are just in my head.

I’ve also wanted to write a certain kind of fic, a certain mood of fic, for Juliantina, but nothing seemed to fit their personalities--well, Val’s personality. I think this premise would achieve that mood without making them OOC. (I don’t know if I’m making any sense lol.)

Oh, and if you’ve reached this far, I wonder if you could guess where this story would be headed? 😊 

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[pastelgrungewrecker]

Even Morning Glories Fade

Fall upon your knees, Sing, "This is my body and soul here!”

He spoke in springbuds and sunshine petals- he wooed and cooed like the turtledoves in old terran stories; like the grinning and coy demigods of love and faith and lust and hope in all the stories Perceptor so often brushed away with the nervous insistence of a skeptic’s skeptic.

And oh, for shame! He fell in love with the sky’s scuffed colors and a crooked smile.

When Brainstorm began coughing so hoarse- a death rattle concerto done in a zephyrwhistle and the wheeze of the great northern gusts Perceptor wrapped the jet in arms too small to fit around the flier’s chest but warm all the same.

So many things, all the same- one frets, one flicks it away with a brush of servos and a shrug of wings so used to being folded it was silently feared they’d never open.

When Brainstorm gagged and choked on coiled.. masses, indiscernible at first but gaining shape and color and recognizability; Perceptor held him close to a twice broken once locked spark and rocked him from side to side- carefully thumping his curled digits against Brainstorm’s chest when the coughs would fizzle and break and go silent like the hum of glass after a lightning strike.

“PLEASE, HURRY, IT SOUNDS LIKE HES DYING!”

And oh, for shame! He was falling in love with the sky’s scuffed colors and a crooked smile.

And then Brainstorm lay on his side, with his optics dim and dull and tired and his smile waning like a forgotten mood as Perceptor let servos brush along cheekcabling that looked so like a death’s-head in the low light.

“You... You don’t believe that. N-Nonsense superstition, do you?”, laughed Brainstorm weakly, shifting slowly and wheezing a weak hack from the bottom of his respirators- the flutter of crystalline petals flickering free of him to scatter like starlight on old water.

“I was badly made, badly built- bad mechanics and blueprints all the way down, Percy. I was never meant to last, not really. Not with any kinda MEANING.”

“Don’t say that, hush.”, murmured Perceptor, soothing him or the jet he didn’t know anymore, “I don’t care about superstition or fairfolk warnings- I care about making you well, no matter what.”

“We both know there’s a flaw in my code, Percy.”

“Nonsense, it’s just a. A system glitch, Ratchet can fix it no problem.”

“Percy.”, whispered Brainstorm his words broken up by a coughing fit that leaked liquid life and glorypetals into his lap as he sat up slowly, clutching his aching chestplate, “Percy, I’m gonna die. Stories or not, processor reboot or not, I’m not gonna make it.”

“Liar.”

“I’m a lot’ve things Perce, but sadly I was always a terrible one of those.”

Perceptor sighed, leaning his helm forward to rest on Brainstorm’s shoulder, “Even.. Even suppose those old stories were true- who is it, Brainstorm? Who? If it’s not that... Pegheaded bastard, and not myself... Is it Whirl, perhaps? Cyclonus, or Tailgate? Hell, the Captain?”

Brainstorm couldn’t help that bitter winterwind laughter that tumbled out of him, the wheezing frigid winds carrying death and silence that shattered apart once again with coughs like prairie storm thunderclaps.

“Honestly, I couldn’t tell you Percy.”, whispered Brainstorm once his coughs had settled, no longer bothering to brush away the crystalline petals sprinkled over him and the mediberth where he knew he’d come to die, “I can’t think of anyone I’ve loved that I didn’t... Find closure with.”

“Is... Is it because of me? Because I took so long?”

“No- this didn’t start until well after we got together. Well, it didn’t start getting bad.”

“...Brainstorm, when DID it start?”

A beat of silence, and then so softly; so quietly Perceptor’s audials barely caught it... Brainstorm spoke.

“It started the day they sent you away. And it got worse when Quark disappeared, and when the first timecase plans failed...”

Perceptor moved up onto the mediberth to settle close to Brainstorm- to allow him to hold tight and tighter and tightest to the reinforced scope frame; to take comfort from a modified tank grade engine rumbling beneath plating that wouldn’t (or perhaps couldn’t) open again.

“It... got better, for a while- once the case worked, once I almost did something right for once...!”

The coughing rattled Brainstorm again, spitting up and out the petals and blooms that filled his steelstrut ribcage like so many funeral sprays and made him choke on words he so desperately needed yet denied.

“Oh Stormy- raincloud, stormcell you ninny and absolute fool...”

“Wh-what?”

“All this love for the Things and Thems and Thats and Thoses in the world and never spared a drop for yourself-”, whispered Perceptor, bundling the jet close to him, “All this love and glee and manic joy and you never EVER once spared a SINGLE bit for yourself!”

Brainstorm couldn’t help the broken laughter that rang from him like a funeral bell- like the hymns in dead churches sung by priests who remember only sounds and sensation and never the true honest words.

“Brainstorm- Brainstorm, how can I...”

“You can’t, Percy.”, rasped Brainstorm feeling his sparkrate rocket high and drop, “No matter how mu-ch you s-say it; no matter how many times y-you try to prove it, I-”

Perceptor felt panic rise behind his chestplate, yowling for help at the door as Brainstorm’s coughs pulled forth more than just petals, more than just thorns.

“I a-am. A scientist. And I have seen no concrete evidence to the contrary.”

“Brainst- Brainstorm PLEASE! Please, I love you, Whirl loves you, so many people care so much for you-”

A gentle hand against Perceptor’s cheek, and he shrieked for assistance again as he heard the heavy thud of pedesteps as he looked back to the jet still nestled against him and covered in slivers of vine and leaf and thorn and shimmer.

“I love you too, Perce. But I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

“Brainstorm, please, just hold on, keep your vents cycling Ratchet’s almost here- you deserve to survive, to be loved just please PLEASE listen to me-”

“I’m sorry, Percy... But- I can’t believe you.”

His coughs rattled him from top to tip- wingpanels cracking with the force of his frame tensing as he coughs and hacked and choked in a mockery of gaudiness- As morning glory pale petals rained down and glinting bluegreengrey vines seemed to reach out as though Primus had planted funeral flowers over the spot the MTO’s heart had been until it broke one day-

Never to seal back together, only ever to grind itself on its own edges into gravesoil for the glories to grow.

And oh, for shame! He had fallen in love with the sky’s scuffed colors and a crooked smile.