#the round glasses are the only thing that makes her recognizable

[artbytesslyn]

Loveeee what they’ve been doing with the Darkholme-Adlers don’t get me wrong. but good lord they need to decide what Irene actually looks like

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Old Therebefore 🐍🕊️ | A Six of Crows Imagine

Takes place after the events of S&B S2

My masterlists

Characters & Pairings: gang leader!reader x Crows (platonic). Kaz Brekker x reader (slight tension)

content warnings: profanity, mentions of violence and death, typical SOC themes. | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4k

Premise: it’s not often Kaz Brekker needs assistance to a job involving anyone other than his Crows. Yet, there is always a first. When a job comes involving not only a high cash prize but also chances of coming out alive slim, Kaz accepts it is out of his skill level. So, what does he do? Take a risk by recruiting his top rival since Pekka Rollins was run out of town….she’s got the charm of a snake with a voice of a songbird. 

Note: so as you can tell by the title of the imagine and song linked, I saw the new hunger games movie (back in November) and literally could not stop thinking about this song/scene. Then of course my hyperfixations like to collide and wallah: here is the end result.

Disclaimer as always: the song and lyrics belong to Suzanne collins and all the SOC characters belong to Leigh Bardugo

---------

“You know, Kaz, I know better than to question you on most things,” Jesper scanned his surroundings, voice low with slight concern. “But I can’t help but wonder why you’ve decided to drag us to the ‘Snake Pit’ tonight.” The sharpshooter sipped his glass of rum after a close inspection, “mind telling us.” 

Seated around him, Inej, Nina, and Wylan expressions bore the same unease. All on high alert the moment Kaz led them through the doors and down the spiral staircase into the Barrel’s infamous Snake Pit. 

Located deep on the opposite side of the Crow Club, the Snake Pit was an underground bar/club. Home of the legendary crime gang, the Blood Serpents. They’d been around since Kaz was 15, their leader to have been the same age as him. Yet the public knew very little of the notorious boss. Only by their code name. 

The Snake Charmer

Of course, this information made Kaz lose his mind at times. Unable to identify his anonymous rival who’s bested him on multiple occasions. If the opportunity arose, Kaz would pay any amount of kruge to find out who the Snake Charmer was. It’d been well over a decade. His patience was running thin.

Finally, the wait would pay off in the form of a messenger boy. 

Knowing Inej was too recognizable, Kaz sent a young member of the Dregs--who was under the radar to the other gangs--to infiltrate the Snake Pit the week prior. The boy returned hours later to relay a crucial piece of information. Now, Kaz was to test that theory. 

Clutching his cane, the crime boss did not spare a glance to his fellow Crows the second they entered the Pit. Even when they took claim to a rounded booth in a far corner by the bar. His attention was occupied. Analyzing the club and its features. Mentally noting the Blood Serpent members, who were identifiable by their red snake tattoos on their hands. 

One of which was the bartender that served them drinks. A young woman about their age, she wore a maroon pin-stripped 5 piece suit although the blazer was forgone. The tattoo was on full display. Kaz assessed her lingering on him when she pushed the tray of drinks toward Jesper. Likely recognizing him and by default the rest of the Crows. The bartender didn’t say anything after, only giving a nod before moving to the next customer. 

To the other Crows, they thought Kaz’s intense stare on the bartender was either because he thought she was attractive or making note she was just another member of the Serpents. But, what they did not know was Kaz figuring out if she was the Snake Charmer.

“A woman?” he questioned the boy, narrowing his eyes. “You are telling me the Snake Charmer--leader of the Blood Serpents--is a woman and works under the guise of an employee at the Snake Pit. Are you positive?”

The boy nodded profusely, “Yes, Mr. Brekker. I can assure you it was no man singing that song. She sounded like a siren if I must say. She calmed the snakes like it was nothing-- I see why they call her Snake Charmer.”

So a woman was responsible for a lot of Kaz’s failures. Not to mention winning the territory he’d hoped to gain when Pekka was defeated. They’d come to a settled agreement through a middle man. An action that annoyed Kaz. But he knew better than to wage war with the Snake Charmer. 

So far the women in the gang he’s managed to identify besides the bartender were two serving girls, a door bouncer, and two poker dealers. A total of six. Of the men, most of them were standing on the walls and mingling along the floor. 

Bet she didn’t expect him to enter her den. 

The Snake Pit was exactly like what the boy described. Dark wood floors and walls up to the high ceilings. Dangling chandeliers, poker tables, two bars on either side. Booths aligned the walls. The most notable and unique trait, however, was the glass snake enclosure right smack in the middle of the floor. It was cylinder shaped at the bottom, lining the floor to the ceiling where it branched out on either side to resemble a tree. Plants and dirt filled it. 

As did ten serpents. Ranging from tiny garden snakes to a python.  

Jesper cringed when his eyes landed on it. Wylan looked deathly afraid. Nina found it amusing. Inej thought it was fitting. Kaz was pleased to see it. To him, that was ammunition.

Kaz answered Jesper with one word that told the whole story, “Business.” 

“What business could you possibly have with the Snake Charmer?” Inej questioned, hand on her side close to her knives. “Don’t you think we should be discussing the plan?”

“And we are,” Kaz rebutted, leaning into the booth with his gaze set on the enclosure. “We’re here to flush out the Snake Charmer.” 

Jesper choked on his drink, meanwhile Nina and Inej looked at Kaz like he was crazy. “You’re fooling us aren’t you?” “Boss, jokes aren’t really your thing--.” “You’re insane, Kaz, if you believe that’ll happen.”

“You see that enclosure?” He cut off their rambling. All responded with a look of, ‘Of course we see the ginormous Snake habitat in the middle of the club full of our enemies.’ Kaz nodded to it, “we need to destroy it.”

Once again, Jesper choked. This time on his saliva. “You’ve lost it,” he ignored the glare from his boss, “Did going through the fold change you, Kaz? Clearly you’re not actually thinking we let loose a dozen snakes,” he leans forward to whisper, “we don’t even know if they’re venomous. If their bites don’t kill us, surely their owner will.” 

Analyzing Kaz, Inej lowered her tone, “what are you not telling us, Kaz?”

Giving one last scan of his surroundings, Kaz addressed his Crows with the truth of why he brought them to the Snake Pit. “I have a lead on who the owner of this establishment is.” Their reactions were immediate, Kaz continued. “A week ago I sent a young messenger boy here to scout out the place--find anything that could help identify the Serpents boss. During closing he snuck into one of their storage closets,” Kaz attempted to locate said closet, somewhere behind one of the bars. 

Kaz paid close attention to the bartender and the poker dealers. “At some point in the night, one of the snakes got loose. Or,” he turned to Jesper and Inej, “my theory is they use those snakes as a means to get information on people.”

“Great,” Nina sighs, “you want us to free the Serpent's torture method. Well done, Brekker. Excellent plan if I must say.” The heartrender received a glare, but Kaz did not entertain it further.

“As I was saying,” his tone was stern, making the others hold onto any additional comments. “The boy overheard the panic of one of the Serpents. Turns out, the Snake Charmer doesn’t take kindly to her pets being mishandled.”

“I can see why,” Jesper mutters, glancing at the enclosure. 

Kaz gripped his cane, watching the female bouncer approach the bartender and exchange words. “He then heard a woman’s voice. Singing.”

Wylan raised a brow, “Singing?”

“Whatever it was, it calmed the snake. Allowed her to return the animal back to its case. The boy said he heard arguing between a couple members who hoped to clean up their mistake before the boss discovered it.” Kaz shifted in his seat, “didn’t end well for them.”

“Did you get a look at her face?” Kaz peered out his office window, facing the direction of the Snake Pit’s location. Moonlight shining down, almost as though the Saints wanted him to see the building. Behind him, he heard the boy clear his throat.

“No, Sir.” He stuttered, tensing at the sight of Kaz lowering his head. “The door didn’t have any cracks or holes I could see through. I tried looking underneath, but only got a glimpse of their shoes.”

Kaz pinched the bridge of his nose, deep in thought. “What happened after she finished singing? How’d you get out?”

“Once the snake was handled, she ordered them to her office. She sounded….calm, but you know how you just know when someone is masking their anger. That’s how it was when she addressed them.” Kaz hummed, indicating he understood the boy’s implication. Considering he was guilty of such.

“And then?”

“I waited a few minutes until I was sure they were gone. The direction they went sounded like it was the far left of the club--opposite side of the spiral staircase that’s both the entrance and exit. I think there's a secret back entrance where they were because when I came out it was completely empty.”

Kaz found the secret back entrance. Camouflaged as a bookcase. He was able to spot the hinges carefully placed to where the light made it difficult to see them. But Kaz Brekker knew the art of illusion in the back of his hand. 

“This is what’s going to happen,” he became serious. The Crows lean in to hear him while maintaining their alert. “We need to expose those snakes from their enclosure. They’ll be our bait. From there we wait. If my theory is correct, those snakes only answer to their master. Or charmer in this case.” Kaz paused to locate the female workers in the club. “Her act as an employee is a ruse.”

Jesper followed his gaze, once again becoming riddled with unease. “You’re implying the Snake Charmer is either the bouncer who let us in, the gal who served our drinks, the serving girls working the floor or one of the poker dealers?”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying, Jesper.”

“Why would she do that?”

Nina snorted, sipping at her whiskey, “Isn’t it obvious?” she didn’t wait for an answer, “no one would pay a second glance to a worker. They are either too drunk or too naive to assume the pretty bartender or serving girl is the boss of one of Ketterdam’s deadly gangs.” She gestured to the serving girl closest to her. “My money’s on her being the Charmer.”

Jesper scoffed, “no way. To be a ghost and retain anonymity all these years you have to have a great poker face.” He states the obvious, “it’s one of the dealers.” 

Inej rolled her eyes, “are you seriously making this a competition?”

“You don’t think it could be the bouncer?” Wylan asked, scratching the back of his neck to relax the tension he felt. 

“No,” Jesper replied with a wave of a hand, “that would be obvious, don’t you think? Although….,” he rubs his chin, “considering they let us in -- and we know how much you and the Snake Charmer have been rivals so to speak all these years, boss -- you don’t think by letting us through that we walked into some sort of trap?”

Inej immediately straightened, “Jes has a point.” Nina stopped munching on her calamari, waiting for Kaz. She too realized the potential threat.

Kaz, however, remained relaxed. “It’s not the bouncer, but I know the Charmer has already been notified of our presence.” Wylan’s worry intensified.

“What makes you think that?”

“As we’ve been talking I noticed all the women working the club have interacted at some point. Some making it obvious to point us out,” He was referring to the bouncer nodding her head to the one serving girl. “Others are more discreet.” That was to the poker dealer and bartender. 

“And yet,” Jesper groans. “You still want us to make a scene. We are literally in a place crawling with snakes--pun not really intended.” the table rolled his eyes at him, save for Wylan who found the joke amusing. “Point is….you want to unleash the Snake Charmer’s serpents into a club full of innocent people--.”

“Innocent,” Nina scoffed under her breath. 

“What if one of us gets bitten?” Jesper kept his gaze on Kaz with mild concern. “I don’t believe for a second the Snake Charmer will kindly hand over the antidote to save our lives. She’ll take pleasure in watching us suffer a horrible death.” Picturing the scene, the sharpshooter downs the rest of his drink, cringing in the process. “Saints, this is not how I pictured I’d die.”

Kaz rolled his eyes, “No one’s dying today. No mourners.” Everyone glanced at each other.

“No funerals.”

“Right then,” It was time to work. “Here’s what we’ll do….”

A prayer slipped past his lips before Jesper inhaled deeply and let the bullet fly. The sound caused gasps from around him, though he was quick to hide the weapon in its holster before one noticed.

“Who did that?!” came a shout from the bouncer. Patrons were already making their way toward the exit. Not wanting to get caught in a crossfire. 

Jesper occupied himself with his rum, glancing over his shoulder to Inej, who signaled to him the bullet did not penetrate the glass completely. Sighing, he downed the contents, waited until it was clear, and shot again. 

The second bullet hit the glass with a loud clunk. Once again alerting the occupants of the Snake Pit. Many searched themselves for any sign of blood for fear they were shot by an unknown assailant. 

“C’mon,” Jesper whispered, peering at the enclosure. He saw the evidence of his bullet, a chip in the glass near the bottom. If he could time it right, without someone getting in the way, he’d hit the mark. 

Meanwhile employees of the club were trying to calm the crowd, “everyone please remain--.” Another shot rang out, more shouts echoing. Kaz’s patience was running thin. Their door to escape started to close as he noticed the security begin to close in on the Crows. No doubt suspecting they were to blame for the chaos. 

Kaz Brekker coming to the Snake Pit with his most trusted advisors for only a drink? Yeah right.

Then, almost in slow motion, the sound best described as ice cracking filled his ears. All eyes turned to the enclosure. Fear surfacing as they witnessed spiderwebs painting the glass. Then all hell broke loose when the glass gave way, allowing the beasts freedom from their isolation. 

Screams ensued. People climbing from the floors onto tables and chairs. Hissing from the snakes intensified the hysteria. Kaz even found himself moving when the python pivoted in his direction. Jesper of course found himself on top of a chair the moment the glass shattered. Inej was high up on a balcony on the opposite side of the club. How did she get up there? No one knew. Wyalan was close to Jesper. He too found safety on a stool. Nina meanwhile was listening to the heartbeats around here. The number decreased each time a patron made it up the staircase and out the door. 

Seconds passed and no sight of the Snake Charmer. Kaz was getting worried. Fearing the plan was a failure. His worry increased when he found himself scurrying on top of a poker table. Distracted with trying to find the workers he suspected of being the Snake Charmer to realize the cobra had got close to him. Had he not acted fast, the man’s leg would’ve fallen victim to its fangs. Catching Jesper’s eye, they shared the concern evident in their expressions. Wondering just how the fuck they were going to escape the situation. 

Suddenly his prayers were answered in the form of an angelic voice. Causing the screams to disappear…..

“You’re heading for heaven, 

The sweet old hereafter, 

And I’ve got one foot in the door. 

But before I can fly up, 

I’ve loose ends to tie up, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore.”

Heads turned, facing the direction of the sound. Their expressions turned into pure shock. Kaz may have had his suspicions, but it still came as a shock to discover he was right all along. 

Ketterdam’s notorious crime boss, leader of the Blood Serpents….was the Snake Pit’s bartender. 

Walking around the bar, crunching against the glass of broken bottles on the floor from the hysteria of customers fleeing to get away from the snakes, the woman kept her gaze on slithering animals. The hissing continued as she inched closer, however she did not seem fazed at all. Her singing continued.

“I’ll be along, 

When I’ve finished my song, 

When I’ve shut down the band, 

When I’ve played out my hand, 

When I’ve paid all my debts, 

When I have no regrets, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

The hissing got quieter. The animals turning so they were in line with the woman. Slithering slowly but surely toward her. Confirming to everyone she was their master. Their charmer.

Off to the side, a few of the Blood Serpents rushed in with crates. Pushing people aside. Meanwhile the woman got to her knees, leveling down to the snakes who were now moving toward her. Eyes locked, face serious. The Snake Charmer was obviously trying to keep herself together. But Kaz felt the rage seep off of her. 

“I’ll catch you up, 

When I’ve emptied my cup, 

When I’ve worn out my friends, 

When I’ve burned out both ends, 

When I’ve cried all my tears, 

When I’ve conquered my fears, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

The snakes smaller in size slithered up her outstretched arms. Covering both limbs in a tangle of scales. One slithering up to encase her neck, almost like a necklace. The Cobra took claim to her waist. The python circled her, almost like it contemplated joining its fellow serpents. 

Around Kaz, he made out the faint gasps of customers who had yet to depart. Glancing around, he witnessed them all in states of shock and awe. Even his Crows were at a loss of words. 

As was he.

The Snake Charmer’s voice turned strong. Echoing through the entire club as she belted out the next verse. Bringing chills to everyone’s arms.

“I’ll bring the news, 

When I’ve danced off my shoes, 

When my body’s closed down, 

When my boat’s run around, 

When I’ve tallied the score,

 And I’m flat on the floor, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

Rising from the ground, she was covered by the creatures. Her python has wrapped itself around her leg. Its tail was on the floor while its head perched by where the cobra had secured itself on her belt. From the neck down the Snake Charmer was a sight to behold. Revealing why the nickname was not only because she was the leader of a gang filled with snakes. 

It was because she was gifted with the talent of charming their namesake.

Moving toward her subordinates holding crates, no doubt to keep the animals contained, the woman passionately sang the final verse. Giving it all she had. 

“When I’m pure like a dove, 

When I’ve learned how to love.”

Tone dropping, she leaned to lower the snakes into the crates. Gently as though they were newborn babies. Kaz caught her stoke the pythons head, her singing so low it was good the place was dead quiet. 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

Finally, after what felt like forever, the snakes were safely stored in the crates. Lids dropping shut with the gang members hurrying from the floor to transport them to another room. No one moved. Any and all eyes focused on the woman in the pinstripe suit. Back turned to the Crows and other patrons, but from the fearful look of her door bouncers, everyone silently prayed they’d make it to the morning. 

Moving her neck in a circle, a low crack from the joints that had been stiff, she slowly turned to face the audience. A clenched jaw and fury in her eyes made it clear what was going through her mind. Especially to Kaz, who was fighting to not look away when she instantly met his gaze.

Oh, she knew alright.

“Well…” the Charmer’s tone sent chills along the Crows' bodies. “You’ve certainly got my attention, Mr. Brekker.” Her spite was evident. Complete rage. Likely planning every means of torture she wished to bestow on her rival and his comrades. 

It was so quiet. So thrilling. Nobody dared to move a muscle. Patrons watching the stare down between the King, and now the unmasked Queen, of the Barrel. It was captivating yet terrifying. Wondering who would make the first move, and if it will end in a blood bath.

Then she snapped, “Everyone out!!” The floor cleared in seconds. Leaving only Serpents and Crows. They knew better than to attempt an escape. Plus the moment their boss addressed Kaz, the Serpents had circled them to prevent any sudden attack. 

Kaz remained composed. Watching closely as the Snake Charmer moved to the bar to pour herself a drink. “Before I kill you, Kaz Brekker, and your little birds too,” she did not look at him, paying attention to the liquid filling the glass. He tightened his jaw. “I want to hear you explain to me why you brought yourselves to my club,” bringing the glass to her lips, she downed half the alcohol in one gulp. Drawing her eyes up to make contact with him, “And destroyed my babies' home.”

Her footsteps echoed, walking toward the center of the floor where Kaz stood. “You’re a smart man.” She took another sip, this time slower. “Not only did you manage to draw me into the light, but you knew exactly how to do so.” A smirk plastered on Kaz’s face. A bold move considering the threat lingering at displaying his smugness to the Serpent Queen. Her lips were in a thin line, “What brings you to my den?”

Straightening his posture, Kaz stepped closer. Their distance is only a mere foot from one another. Making everyone--Crows and Serpents alike--suffocating from the tension between the two. 

“You won’t be killing us tonight, Charmer.” If only he knew her real name. Only having her title felt like she had some reign on him. Superior in a sense. The whole Barrel knew him as Dirtyhands, but Kaz Brekker had his own reputation. For her, people can now put a face to the name Snake Charmer. A beautiful woman with the voice of an angel. So powerful it made snakes bend to her will. 

Also, people would be shaken by the fact the deadly gang leader served them drinks during their visits to the Snake Pit. Hidden in plain sight. Listening to them spill their drunken secrets. 

Kaz leaned closer, the scent of her perfume hitting his nostrils. Jasmine. A flower known to attract snakes. He understood why she wore it. The smell was alluring. As was her presence, but Kaz dismissed the thought as quick as it came. “Doing so will result in you losing an important job I’m willing to negotiate your assistance on. Believe me, the reward is more than generous--enough for the both of us to share.” Now he got her attention, confirmed by the way her head slightly tilted, brow raised. 

“Humor me, Brekker.”

“Have you ever heard of jurda parem?”

[elizaviento]

Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine (Part 3 of ?)

(Stardew Valley — Shane/Female Farmer/OC)

This chapter is rated SFW — 2943 words. Mentions of blood and injury.

(FYI: Additional chapters of Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine can be found in the Stardew Valley Fic Masterpost link in my blog description.  Or, you can click the #green on the vine strawberry wine tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)

*****

Kristen wasn't sure how she'd managed to make it inside the farmhouse when the last thing she remembered was counting the steps toward the porch as she stumbled toward it from the coop enclosure. Harvey's warm, honey-like voice filtered in through the static, recognizable but speaking utter gibberish. No matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn't make sense of what he said, only that he must be asking a question due to the inflection of his words.

"Harvey?" she managed to ask as his face hovered so close to hers that she could count the flecks in his irises. A second later, large hands tucked under each of her armpits, coaxing her upward from the kitchen tile.

"There she is," Harvey replied. Relief softened his tone, allowing his usual friendly cadence to replace the stern professionalism she referred to as his doctor's voice.

Awareness still felt fuzzy around the edges — soft and nondescript. Floaty, yet her head throbbed, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis with the few wobbly steps she took toward the small kitchen table.

Thudding footfalls echoed through the farmhouse, seeming to pulse in time with the throbbing within her skull. Pacing back and forth, hurried. A door squealed on its rusty hinges, and Kristen immediately recognized the abrupt scrape across hardwood as it stuck without closing fully — the linen closet.

"Who —" she began, scrubbing at her eyes with her uninjured hand as the footsteps backtracked and approached the kitchen.

Shane rounded the corner, towel in one hand and glass of water in the other, his expression grim. He spoke, but Kristen was too preoccupied with remaining upright — so as not to drag Harvey back to the floor with her — to filter what he'd said through the only two brain cells operating at full capacity. 

Once her ass made contact with the solid surface of the oak chair, she slumped and released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The glass of water Shane placed gingerly on the table called to her like the siren song of some mythical beast, beckoning her to sample its magical concoction, and made her painfully aware that her mouth felt stuffed with sticky cotton.

She nearly gagged when Harvey mentioned juice. She'd consumed enough of the cranberry variety to last her entire life but didn't protest when it was presented in her favorite mug. Despite her initial desire to resist, he was right — the sugar helped to clear her head, and the sobering reality of her situation slammed home with Harvey's casual mention of the possibility of surgery.

And the final topping on the shit sundae?

Shane. The intensity of his gaze sliced through her like a scalpel as he stood in the corner of her humble kitchen. Regret, shame, and unmitigated humiliation saturated every pore of her flesh, staining her cheeks and searing up the nape of her neck. No matter how well she'd convinced herself she knew him, his deadpan expression remained as unreadable as ever.

The second he disappeared through the front door after excusing himself, a strangled sob escaped the farmer's chest. Her body crescented of its own volition, attempting to curl into the fetal position even as she sat upright. Instead, her knees made contact with the underside of the table as her cheek flattened on the cool, rough surface.

"Kristen? Everything alright?"

She hoped that Harvey assumed her irrational fear of needles and blood was the catalyst for such childish behavior. Admitting to the alternative — Shane witnessing her in such a disheveled state — was simply out of the question.

"Yeah. I just — I'm sorry I dragged you all the way out here," she said, squinting her eyes shut as the hooked needle pierced her numbed flesh. Even with the absence of pain, the slow tug and drag of the suture was enough to sprout fresh droplets of cold sweat from her grimy scalp and coat the back of her throat with bile.

"It's my job," the doctor replied, matter-of-fact tone firmly back in place as his brow pinched in concentration. "Try to keep your hand still."

"Sorry."

She hadn't realized she was trembling, but it was just as well. Her teeth also began to chatter despite the stuffy climate of the kitchen, the clack, clack, clack rattling her brain.

❦❧🍓❦❧

Stepping outside onto her front porch, Kristen closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the sun. Earlier that morning, she'd cursed its very existence, but now its comforting warmth seeped through her skin and settled around her bones like insulation. Her right hand was wrapped in gauze so thick that it could be mistaken for a Mickey Mouse glove, and the painkillers Harvey had instructed her to swallow were settling at the base of her spine in the most delightful fashion.

"Keep your hand dry and avoid use as much as possible," Harvey said as he came to stand beside her. She nodded absently and sighed when he added, "I mean it" for good measure.

"When can I take the stitches out?"

" YOU can't," he replied, shooting her a stern look as she shielded her eyes with her good hand and scanned the farmland before her. "Swing by the clinic in a few days, and I'll change the dressing. I want to keep an eye on it. I have a friend in Zuzu — an orthopedic surgeon. She's usually booked for months, but I'll see what I can do."

Another dejected sigh escaped Kristen's chest. She'd spotted Shane through the afternoon glare, hauling an armful of hay from the silo toward the coop, a flock of eager hens close at his heels.

"I'm truly fucked," she groaned. No amount of narcotics could dull the anxiety that sat on her chest at the prospect of being partially incapacitated as summer slowly ebbed into fall.

"I wouldn't say that," Harvey said. He'd removed his glasses and was idly cleaning them with a handkerchief he'd pulled from who knows where. Kristen smiled, his quaint aesthetic plucking at her heartstrings. "You have more friends in the Valley than you realize, farmer."

Shane had disappeared from view, ducking inside the coop. The hole in the fence had mysteriously been patched with the chicken wire Kristen had battled with hours earlier.

Perhaps Harvey was right.

"Does that mean you won't be sending me a bill?" she joked, shooting him a sidelong glance. He didn't even flinch, tucking the handkerchief in the pocket of his slacks and sliding his glasses back into place.

"Don't press your luck."

Kristen spotted a suppressed smirk below his signature mustache and chuckled. The pair had developed an effortless rapport over the years, and she felt comfortable in Harvey's presence enough to unleash her true personality now and then. Relationships like that were few and far between, and she cherished them — held them gently like a fresh hatchling and did her best to nurture them accordingly. It was carefree and easy with people like Harvey, Emily, and even Leah. For people like Shane… considerably more attention and care were required.

"I'll take my leave," Harvey spoke up again after a moment of silence, pulling Kristen from her thoughts. "Don't forget — come by the clinic in a few days."

"Promise," she said, dramatically placing her comically bandaged hand on her heart before adding, "Thanks again, Harvey."

"No thanks needed. Just be more careful. I think you almost gave Shane a heart attack."

Gilt rolled in the farmer's gut, and she shifted her attention back toward the coop as Harvey descended the rickety porch steps and strode toward the property line. She gave him a parting wave and waited until he disappeared down the footpath, gathering her wits.

It had been quite a long time since she had to consciously prepare herself to approach Shane Davis. In the early days, a stray "fuck off," "what do you want now?" or an irritated sigh would sap every drop of joviality from the farmer's body, along with wiping the goofy grin from her face. More than once, she'd berated herself for even trying to befriend someone who clearly hated her guts, but something kept nagging at her. She knew, instinctively, that it wasn't her he hated. It was the world.

The march toward the coop was more gruesome than she'd accounted for. Small puddles of her blood, already dried and cracked by the blazing heat, reminded her of her stupidity and the lives she'd upheaved in the process. Shane had obviously missed work, and it was all her fault. She wondered if calling Morris to apologize on his behalf would be toeing an unspoken boundary…

Skidding the soles of her boots through the dirt to cover the evidence as she went, Kristen approached the coop enclosure and took a closer look at the patched hole. Shane had done an excellent job. Better than what she would have done herself under the excuse that new fencing would be replacing it soon. Just like how she'd ignored the hole in the first place, convincing herself she could stretch it until fall.

Nope — she couldn't approach Shane just yet. She needed more time to wallow in self-pity. Get it out of her system and be done with it. So, she took a slight detour, veering off to the left and toward a mound of freshly turned soil tucked between the small pond and the rock face of her property line. A large stone had been placed atop the mound, the word "Sassafras" scratched on the surface with the blunt blade of her grandpa's old pocket knife.

There hadn't been much to bury — a handful of crimson-soaked feathers at most. But Kristen gathered them up, dug a two-foot deep hole, and dropped them inside regardless.

"You look like hell."

The gruff voice penetrated her thoughts like a torpedo, shattering them into a million unrecognizable pieces. She wasn't sure how long she'd been there, staring through the grave of her hen and straight into a dissociative abyss, but it was long enough for her to sit down cross-legged at its base and unconsciously cradle her bandaged hand to her chest.

Hoping he hadn't noticed her jerk and gasp, she rolled her eyes at her involuntary reaction and twisted her upper body to face him. At this angle, he towered over her, features blackened out by the backdrop of blinding light he obscured from the heavens. 

She was at a loss for words, only then wondering just how horrible of a sight she posed. It hadn't even occurred to her amid the chaos, and she flushed, thanking whatever God that may exist that Harvey hadn't dragged her to Zuzu City Hospital.

"Shane. Shit, I'm so —"

"You're about to say you're sorry. Just don't."

His tone held no malice, and even though she still couldn't make out his face, he extended a hand toward her like an olive branch carried across miles and miles of turbulent sea. Without hesitation, she reached for it, her callused palm slipping smoothly into his before he gripped and pulled, hauling her up from the ground with what felt like zero effort on his part.

Now at eye level, Kristen could clearly see the sheen of sweat glistening across Shane's face and neck, a small patch darkening the collar of his Joja uniform. It must have been stifling in the coop at this time of day. Guilt settled on her chest once more, and she shifted her gaze toward their feet to hide the evidence behind her eyes.

The walk back toward the farmhouse was silent save for the whoosh of blood in Kristen's ears. No matter how much Shane protested, she absolutely did owe him an apology, and she wouldn't let him leave without one.

Now on the porch, he lingered awkwardly just outside the door, even as she entered and held it open for him. Rolling her eyes, she tilted her head, a silent insistence he follow her inside. Even being the only person in Pelican Town who held a spare key to her house, he still wouldn't enter without an implicit invitation.

"I'm going to apologize whether you like it or not," she said, shuffling toward her bathroom to survey the damage. " AND say thank you. Especially for repairing the hole in the fence."

His answering scoff could be clearly heard, even as she shut the bathroom door most of the way, leaving a crack so that she could continue to talk at him. However, once she flipped on the fluorescent overhead light, a burst of laughter reverberated in the tiny space, drowning out the buzzing hum of the ancient bulb.

She looked absolutely insane. Curly hair, wild and matted with blood and dirt. Splotches of blood smeared across her face, neck, and chest. Blood soaked into the top half of her overalls straight through to the formerly white tank top underneath. Blood. Blood. Dirt. Blood.

"Did you think I was fucking dead when you got here?" she called through the crack between giggles.

"Actually, yeah…" he replied, somewhat muffled by the distance between them. She guessed he was in the kitchen, possibly cleaning himself up too.

"Shit, I really am sorry," she said, a bit softer. Silence greeted her, along with the kitchen tap running at full blast. Following his lead, Kristen twisted the faucet handle of the bathroom sink, grabbed a hand towel, and scrubbed the morbidity of the day from her skin.

❦❧🍓❦❧

Cleaning up took far more time than usual, given the newly acquired handicap of her dominant hand. She hadn't realized just how useless her left hand was until she was forced to use it exclusively, hunching over the rim of her clawfoot bathtub to scrub at her mass of hair under the unforgiving flow coming from the faucet. Water and shampoo dripped down her face, stinging her eyes, somehow creeping up her nose and seeping between her lips. The entire ordeal would have been considerably easier with help, but she'd rather drop dead than ask Shane to wash the gore from the unruly mane attached to her head.

He did knock on the door once, though, taking care not to look through the crack while he asked her if she'd fallen in the toilet. She'd laughed and told him to fuck off before asking him to wait for her as sweetly as possible while contorted to keep her bandaged hand dry. Another 30 minutes passed before she finally emerged into the living room in a clean pair of worn jeans and a simple t-shirt, damp curls hanging loose down her back.

"How much trouble will you be in for calling off at the last second?" she asked, taking a seat next to Shane on the sofa she'd slept on during childhood summers at grandpa Homer's farm. He shifted as her weight settled into the cushions, but only slightly. Nothing like the total rigidity that would claim his body anytime she was within 5 feet of him during her first year in the Valley.

"Doesn't matter," he answered, staring intently at the television screen. The ambient noise of whistles and bodies slamming into each other on the gridball field wafted from the speakers until Shane picked up the remote and pressed the power button. The screen winked to black, and silence settled between them again, oppressive. "The next time you need help, just ask, okay?"

"What?" Turning to face him, she attempted to squint past the gloom. No matter how wide she opened the curtains or how many lamps she littered around the farmhouse, it was never ever bright enough.

"Lewis called my phone like ten times. Marnie must have given him my number."

"Shane, what are you talking about?" she asked, genuinely confused about what he was trying to say.

"He saw me in town when I got to the clinic and — actually, never mind. Just promise you'll call me the next time you need help and not afterward when you're bleeding out like a stuck pig."

"I thought about calling you," she admitted, trying not to hyper-focus on the emphasis that she call him specifically, "but —"

"You should have."

"Okay, I promise." The statement, meant to be a reluctant acquiescence, warmed her belly and sent tingles across her scalp. Something she'd have to unpack later when she was alone and could brood over a giant slice of pink cake left from Jas' birthday. 

Obviously satisfied, he stood and pulled the Joja cap from his back pocket in a finalizing gesture that tugged Kristen's lips downward at the edges. 

"You're not going in, are you?" she asked, incredulous.

"I gotta make up the time, Kriss. Jas needs new shoes soon, and I have to get a head start on saving up for her winter coat."

Weariness settled on his face as he spoke, the fine lines around his eyes seeming to etch deeper with the realization he wouldn't make it home until after midnight and would still have to get up at the break of day the following morning.

"Shane…"

She stood, reaching out with her good hand and lightly brushing it down one of his shoulders. The tension she felt from such a light touch made her jaw clench in response.

"Do you want me to tend to the hens in the morning? I can swing by before my shift."

Kristen immediately attempted to protest, realizing all at once what he truly meant when he made her promise to ask for help. But before she could utter a single word, he turned and walked toward the front door, tossing a casual "I'll see ya then" over his shoulder as he closed it behind him.

[olive-is-a-jim]

Showstopping Sabrina

Episode 1: "Stairwell Sabrina"

This is a rework of a story concept I’ve had for a while called “Self-Insert Sabrina”, where Sabrina travels through different fandom universes and has misadventures and such. It has been taken in a different direction.

Sabrina one day visits an antique shop with many curious items priced at nearly extortionate denominations. Near the back in a section with vintage but still wearable clothing, there’s a box. Its price tag is $2.50 and feel very out of place. It’s made of what seems to be bronze and tin, with 100 tiny glass light bulbs arranged in a circle on top, none of which are lit. The design all over the box is a simple square wave, the top section in bronze with the bottom in tin.

Sabrina decides to take it, as well as a nice locket that’s displayed near the cash register. She pays for her items and walks home, letting her mind empty out as the day slowly fades into evening.

After a good hour and a half of walking (she’s gotten used to it at this point due to living up in the hills) Sabrina sees her family home. She goes to open the door and one of the lights on the box starts to glow as Sabrina is suddenly teleported to another universe.

She finds herself in a dilapidated house not out of place of something built and decorated in the 1970’s besides three things:

1: It’s been trashed and broken in numerous spots.

2: The box is annoyingly heavy enough to be straining but not enough to be incapable of carrying.

3: The foyer extends nearly endlessly, only having the sight of a stairwell to betray this idea.

Sabrina nervously walks her way over after noting that the wall behind her has no door. The hall feels like it loops, even the trash and gashes in the architecture repeating and disorientating. She reaches the stairwell after what feels like thirty minutes, her stomach dropping as she looks down.

The stairs spiral in both directions endlessly, the geometry distorting the further down she looks. There’s trash everywhere and Sabrina takes a moment to notice that all the ruined objects are her childhood toys, each one more mutilated than the last. It’s utterly disturbing and she doesn’t know why she’s here nor if whatever pushed her in this twisted world did so with intent. There’s a good chance it wasn’t made with her in mind, perhaps being just a reflection of her own psyche the moment she appeared.

But it doesn’t matter to Sabrina, not in the slightest. She determines that, no, there is not time enough for introspection when in this bizarre place. Or any uncomfortable situation, though calling right now uncomfortable is quite the understatement. Sabrina does continue to pause, trying to decide which direction to go- up… or down.

She takes the stairs upwards and while the contents nor the shape of the steps are able to be predicted from her line of sight, it’s not going further into darkness the deeper down you go. Sabrina places one foot on the musty carpeted flight, stepping on a pocket between the fabric and the wood, and curls inward as hundreds of dust particles and moldy spores get catapulted into her face. The wood creaks as if stepping on a plastic skeleton, squeaky and shiversome.

She goes up and tightens a hold on the box, the light in the room getting brighter. It’s a good sign, right? At least she can see where she’s going, right?

It gets brighter. The trash is still everywhere and the surrounding walls are still grody and decayed, but it’s getting brighter. The ruined toys start losing details that make them recognizable to Sabrina: Stuffed bears without faces, fashion dolls wearing simple white cloths, and music boxes all playing the same note over and over.

Eventually she guesses she’s reached the very top of the building as the step extends wider in all directions. It’s still cramped and she can’t help but trip over objects that are now just rounded geometric shapes. Most notably is the light. It’s the exact opposite of pitch black, a brightness so bright and colorless yet it distinctly does not hurt her eyes. It’s as if everything that exists was invisible and this is what is left.

Sabrina feels around with one arm, the other firmly gripping the box, for a wall. Through the trash she find one with strange ridges, divots and bumps in the wooden boards giving an uncannily familiar impression that-

Oh wait, it’s just a door.

…

Sabrina lunges, arm rapidly tossing trash to clear out a path for her. She scrambles to find the handle, and after forever she does. The box is gripped between her neck and upper arms, her head bent forward to keep it in place as she shakes the handle as if were a comatose loved one.

Insects singing. Splintery wood. Molded, musty air. Droning clicks. Bright. Nothingness. And Sabrina.

Her energy is nearly spent and the box about threatens to fall from her clutches. She keeps one hand on the door handle, and the box in the other. She uses her free, shaking fingers to wipe away budding tears. The door won’t open. Her senses now allied against her. The box is poking her ribs.

Sabrina is tired. Why was she here? What caused this? How much time has even passed?

It was this box. This stupid box. She grows infuriated on the spot, kicking at the door with what little left she has in her muscles.

The wood breaks, dust and termites flying out. The door’s hinges snap and the entire plank falls down with a resounding thud.

She’s done. Sabrina is done, she’s had enough. There’s not an ounce of pride left but she swallows it regardless, and grimly steps through the broken doorframe. As she finally steps out of the stairwell her vision is restored instantly. Sabrina looks around.

She’s at the foyer again. The destroyed door is gone, the wall the same as she saw originally. Sabrina leans against the wall to the left of the false entrance, sliding down and surely staining her shirt yellow-brown. She holds the box tightly, arms folded around it. She squeezes it, unsure if for some sick comfort or to try and punish the damned thing.

Slow and shallow breaths leave her lungs which fill with dust and mold. Sabrina will die here, won’t she?

She closes her eyes, thinking about how normal her day was. At the edge of a slow, slow death- now is the time to self-reflect.

Sabrina was just shopping. Sabrina was just looking. Sabrina was only really going to get the locket in the end. Sabrina was going to go home and show her friends. Sabrina was going to enjoy the rest of her night with company. Sabrina was going to be content where she was.

Sabrina was going to be content where she was.

Sabrina was going to be content.

Taking a deep breath Sabrina prepares to fall asleep here, not even caring if it’s daytime or if there will be daytime at all if she wakes.

She goes to lay down on the disgusting carpet. The box clicks and another tiny light bulb glows.

Sabrina is falling, and rapidly too. It’s sickening, spinning out of control and in every direction. Her hair flies in her face, her grip on the box a struggle to maintain. It gets faster and faster until she

 falls

  down

    into the

       ocean.

[magentasnail]

well, you asked for this! but don't say I didn't warn you !

so assuming the twins were 12 in 2012, they are about 24 in this

I imagine that dipper has graduated (possibly even from the dream collage ford wanted to go to? and made him super proud) and is now back in gravity falls doing his own research and documenting it all on his "modern day journal" - aka laptop

mabel is a multi talent artist, I wanted to say she'll be doing fashion design because of the sweaters thing but I think that's underestimating her overall arts and crafts abilities, so she's probably doing a bit of everything (maybe even animation ? 👀) I just hope that she got her ADHD diagnosis and medication so she can focus her energy and not crumble out of wanting to do too much!! (like yours truly)

things that I gave both of them: I gave them glasses, to resemble stan and ford - mabel's round glasses are like ford's (kinda) and dipper square ones are like stan i specifically made sure to have the less common pairing, because the other way around is the more prevalent (+ i did give dipper ford's chin dimple) and I wanted them to have a bit of each grunkle !

I also gave them shooting star/pine tree necklaces, I just imagine they are hand made by mabel as a gift on one of their birthdays

individual design: first we have mabel, as I said in the original tags I gave her puffy messy hair as a child because I feel like she has curly hair and doesn't know how to take care of it, and honestly it gives her so much personality

but a part of why i gave her this hair is because I wanted older mabel to have short curly hair inspired by kristen schaal (her voice actor)! i did make the hair a bit longer than hers just so it'll look nicer with the colorful highlights!

generally, I think adult mabel probably dyes her hair all the time in every possible color, but to keep her recognizable I made the rainbow hair only as ombre to keep the original brown visible

for her outfit I just assumed mabel is going to decorate everything she possibly can, so like super colorful makeup, piercings, tattoos, stuff like that

I gave her a cardigan because it felt like an elegant evolution from sweaters (still hand made of course) and heels (/boots with heels?) because it felt like the natural progression from her doll shoes

her wardrobe is probably super colorful and diverse! I feel like as an adult she has a lot more tools for self expression through clothes, like sewing ! technically she did use a sewing machine on the show, but I just imagine that because she was young she wasn't really allowed to use it much / had a pretty bad kids focused version, which is why she focused on knitting because it's safe and easy for a 12yo but as an adult she has a proper sewing machine and can make more serious outfits! so everything she wears is either fully hand made or thrifted and patched up and decorated with a bunch of embroidered stuff

I also feel very strongly about her tattoos, i just feel like she would LOVE them!! she probably say something like "tattoos are just permanent stickers for your body!" not to mention she has 0 impulse control so she gets so many you can take a closer look at all the tattoos i drew her, but my favorite idea was ducktective, just because a lot of people are getting gravity falls tattoos for being their favorite childhood show so i feel like she'd do the same!

I have slightly less things to say about dipper's design, mainly because I don't think he cares that much for his appearance, but mainly for practicality

so, like every other adult dipper design, he still has wendy's hat (which is hopefully surviving all these years), and a flannel unsurprisingly, the flannel is supposed to represent alex hirsch and I imagine him being equally attached to the idea of wearing it and probably has a similar story to alex of "a girl told him it was cute so he never took it off"

I gave him a blue shirt to play on the young dipper colors, and it has a little stain because of course it does

I also imagine him also having curly hair like mabel, just that he doesn't even bother with washing/brushing his hair as much so the curls aren't getting all puffy so they are visible, but it is greasy adult dippers hair is also a bit long, just because it's fun and again, because he couldn't bother with a haircut

he also has a bit of facial hair, something a bit like young alex hirsch or jason ritter (his voice actor), mainly because he can't be bothered with shaving it off most of the time (and he feels a bit proud of being able to grow it) i didn't give him much in the drawing though, but that's just because it was hard + i liked the way his face look

and both him and his young self has cargo pants, mainly for the functionality of having as many pockets as possible I am also not against the possibility of older dipper's pants being detachable into shorts, for extra functionality

and that's all i thought about when making this !! I hope it's what you were hoping for

bonus detail if you read everything: if you look closely at dippers laptop, the pie chart is supposed to look like a pacman

ok pause from bill art time for some mystery twins art !! specifically, 12yo selves meeting their current day selves!

[let-me-be-an-egg-toast]

CHAPTER 1: THE BIG SLEEP PROLOGUE - SCENE 1 - SCENE 2

CUT TO: EXT. UNKNOWN WAREHOUSE - NIGHT (DOWNPOUR) MURPHY walks in front of the warehouse, all of its large gates opened, revealing the empty darkness from within the establishment. He looks around warily, checking for hidden agents, anchors, anything. [UNKNOWN]: Hello, Mr. Law. MURPHY quickly turns his head to the warehouse, and a pair of floating round glasses at one of its gates looked back at him in the pouring rain, edges glistening in the moonlight. This was O5-1, and all we can tell you is she's no longer welcomed to the Foundation. For purposes we will still be using her former title. Her body could not be seen, the darkness of the warehouse completely covering it without even a hint of her silhouette, adding eerieness to her presence before him. Guessing based on the height of her glasses, she had to be a bit taller than him. MURPHY exasperatedly sighs. MURPHY: Jesus toots - couldn't you have chosen a better place to stand in? O5-1: I'm easily recognizable except when I'm in complete shadow, Mr. Law. Apologies if I startled you. MURPHY silently scoffs. MURPHY: [sarcastic] Oh no need to worry - I'm more concerned on other things. O5-1: [serious] Well I hope they don't distract you Murphy, because right now I need your utmost focus and trust. She sighs. O5-1: Look- She steps out of the gate, revealing her tall frame cloaked in a long coat. Her glasses were perched in front of a blank, porcelain mask. Her hands were covered in white gloves, with one of them holding a mysterious suitcase, rain now hitting and dripping off of it. Despite only a slight difference in height, her appearance makes her feel as if she were towering over MURPHY. O5-1: -I am going to say this as quick as I can. I know you have your reasons. You have every right not to trust me at this moment, but I want you to do so - if only for this once. See, this- She lifts the luggage up, drops of water scattering from it. MURPHY's gaze drifts towards it. O5-1: This is bigger than you and me. Bigger than any of us. All I can tell you right now that it is important we destroy this, as quickly as we can. MURPHY eyes it warily, suspicion slowly crawling inside like a snake inching towards its gullible prey. MURPHY: Why me? Why not one of your squadrons or agents? One of them has to still be loyal to you. She sighs. O5-1: All of them are under a tight leash by my...former co-workers. But you're not. You're not connected to any authority; and that's exactly what I need right now. MURPHY opens his mouth to speak until O5-1 cut him off. O5-1: Look, we wasted too much time. I'll tell you more in the drive, but we need to get going- A bullet suddenly zips past the both of them, putting a hole in the concrete wall behind O5-1, mere milimeters from her head, causing her and MURPHY to immediately back away. O5-1: -now. Without another word, she quickly grabs MURPHY's wrist and bolts away, dragging him with her. Another shot rang dangerously between the two of them, almost hitting MURPHY in the process. Splatters from shallow rain puddles echoed their every footstep in the night as they darted through the rain. More bullets rapidly followed their trail like greyhounds to rabbits, hitting against walls of concrete or glass. They finally reached the car, quickly climbing in as O5-1 hurried MURPHY. O5-1: [panicked] GO GO GO- MURPHY: [muttering] Don't have to tell me twice, woman. MURPHY grimaced as he sent the gas pedal to the floor, sending the vehicle 80mph, its tires loudly skidding from the speed. They went off into the distance, to God knows where.

[cannedpeachesxp]

Back:drop (Part II)

AO3 Link

Previous / Next

Quick Summary:  In which Penniton finds herself in a new situation, as well as a new resolve.

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

Penniton felt something in her heart break as she watched everything around her disappear into the darkness. Was she going to disappear too?

Penni didn’t want to disappear, she couldn’t.

It felt unfair, it was unfair.

Penni felt a burning sensation in her chest as her initial shock subsided and a multitude of emotions hit her correspondent to a heavyweight. Sadness, confusion, desperation, it was as if she was feeling all of those at once. But one felt stronger than the rest, it gave her a sort of high feeling, it gave her the kind of willingness to hang on. She gripped onto the emotion like if she let it go she would disappear with it.

Moments later, Penni felt the rest of her senses coming back to her as her shoes touched solid ground.

Solid ground? Penni looked down to see a stained glass floor, all integrated into a pattern that revealed it to be one large, circular mosaic. She cocked her head, taking a few steps on the platform. She traced the image with her finger, trying to get a scope of the big picture. It looked close to a night sky, the first thing that caught Penni’s eye was the girl in front of the moon, poised to copy the crescent shape of it. She had caramel skin and magenta eyes accompanied by round, golden-colored glasses. Big, curly, brown hair and a familiar outfit, parallel to one of the designs from her sketchbook, the same one Veneta looked at that night. It was Penniton, right down to the light freckles that painted her body.

In the image, Penni’s eyes were closed shut, like she was sleeping. Yet, she looked far from peaceful. Akin to how Penni was feeling right now.

She traced the image further, and it became apparent that there was another part of the mosaic, a much smaller circle with the background of a sun with a great blue sky behind it. There was also a girl in that circle, too. She was reaching out to Penni- or letting go, Penni thought the latter. This girl had long, slightly messy, yellow hair that faded into an orange-red. Almost like a sunset. Her eyes were emerald green and she also had a uniform similar to Penni. Everything about her was unmistakably recognizable.

No wonder Penni’s glass counterpart looked so upset.

They both had oddly shaped blades held in their hands, Veneta’s being in the shape of a sun blocked out by the moon while Penni was close to the opposite, a crescent moon.

Penni’s eyes wandered off to the other side of the art piece. There, she saw her mom, along with Mason, Mandy, and Mr. Guss, and surprisingly even a portrait of the hooded man was scattered in the stars of her mosaic.

While looking at the faces of those close to her, her eyes wandered back to Veneta, that burning feeling in her chest again as her breath became heavy and her fist clenched. Tears began to well up in her eyes and she forcefully stomped on the glass, like that only would be enough force to break it. Maybe if she glared at the image enough it would shatter. The sheer imagery of Veneta was enough to make Penni want to scream. She dropped to her knees and slammed her fists onto the glass, when that didn’t do anything she just began to hit harder. She wanted to throw something at the image, anything. She wanted her to pay, wanted her to suffer. Penni raised both her hands up in the air, getting ready to hit the mosaic as hard as she could. When she brought her hands down, a loud, metallic ‘crash!’ echoed out as the object in Penni’s hands hit the ground and made contact with the glass, causing a crack to form in it.

Penni gasped in surprise and was quick to drop whatever materialized in her hands, scrambling to get up. On the floor was a large key-looking thing, similar to the one Veneta had. Penni looked at it hesitantly, reaching her hand out to pick it up by the handle. The key’s outer handle was in the shape of a crescent moon, and at the end was a keychain with a star attached to the bottom. It was light and sharp, fitting Penni’s hand perfectly like it was made for her.

Her gaze on the key object broke when her focus turned to the crack in the glass, it looked as if darkness was seeping out from it, breaking through the cracks. That couldn’t be good. The infamous black creatures from earlier rose from the ground, forming from it.

They wiggled around, writhing, and phased into the floor like a liquid, zipping all around. One of them popped right out of the hole and just, stared at her for a moment. Penni locked eyes with it and froze. She couldn’t move under the gaze of that creature.

Those terrifying little bugs took away everything. Her life, her friend, her, her mom. Her world.

And suddenly, the anger came back. Penni pushed back her tears and gripped the perfectly tethered handle, swinging it at those despicable things. If she was going to join everything she knew then she was going to go out fighting.

But another part of her, a stronger part of her, fought to see Veneta again. So that she could tear that traitor apart, and simply find out, why?

One swing and the thing disappeared, the others were now aware of her and her destructive blade, her anger, her darkness. Her saddened and muted light.

She kept swinging, the question repeating in her mind as she let out her tears. Why, why, why…

It repeated with each swing of the blade until there were no more, and when there were no more she continued to try and smash a hole into the glass below her. Wanting more creatures, wanting more revenge. Wanting more, something.

Penni screamed into the air, frustration taking over her entire being. Her chest hurt and she could feel the pain of her heart ripping apart, but her mind just kept coming back to Veneta.

That traitor.

If only Penni had known this was what she was like sooner, she wouldn’t have wasted so long of her life on that disloyal ex-friend. The worst part is, Penni would have never known about that if this hadn’t happened.

It’s all her fault. She ruined everything. Took away everything with those dark creatures. Everything could’ve been okay now. They’d be having an all-nighter, a slumber party after the festival right now, telling stories. Instead, here Penniton was, alone and miserable.

Revenge. Penniton wanted revenge.

The crack in the glass began to expand, shattering right under Penni’s feet. She shrieked as she fell for the second time that day. Her body was welcomed by the darkness as she fell into the abyss.

.

.

.

‘Gasp!’ Penni sat up, inhaling sharply as her hand gripped her chest tightly, her whole body shaking. The girl hastily looked around, where was she?

Penni took a minute to catch her breath, picking herself up off the ground once she did. The girl lurked around her new surroundings, staying high with alert with each step she took, but there wasn’t much to look out for, everything in this new setting was bare. It appeared to be a whole city but there wasn’t a person in sight. Bright signs and lights lit up the whole place but no citizens, cars, or your normal metropolitan sounds to go with it. That’s what probably scared Penni the most about this place though, being somewhere so big but so desolate, it put her on edge.

She had so many questions, so many thoughts that circled her mind. What was she even supposed to do, where should she go? Penni inhaled deeply in an attempt to control her breathing, running her hands through her curly hair. She just had to stay calm and assess the situation.

Penni pondered momentarily before letting out an ‘oh!’ and stuck out her hand, a slight look of relief on her face as she felt the weapon materialize in her palm. At least if she got into trouble, she could protect herself with this. Penni continued walking aimlessly down the dark street, she’ll find someone or something that’ll help-

“Hey, kid-” Penni shrieked at the feeling of a hand being placed on her shoulder, in a blink of an eye she jumped back, and a ‘clang!’ echoed throughout the area as her key was caught mid-swing by a familiar, black mitt.

“Woah, woah- slow down there kid!” The hooded man said, keeping a cemented grip on Penni’s key.

“It’s…only you…thank goodness,” Penni breathed out, her initial panic subsiding as relief ran through her, glad to see somewhat of a familiar face. The man’s focus seemed to flicker over to the key briefly as he mumbled out the question,

“Since when did you have a keyblade?” seemingly confused. Is that what it’s called, a ‘keyblade’?

The man let go of the keyblade as it fumbled out of Penni’s hands, clattering onto the ground, dissolving as if it was never there in the first place. Her hands were really shaky, the whole situation still had her a bit stunned.

The man flipped off his hood, his full-face visible to Penni for the first time. His yellow eye was clear as day, just as abnormal as when Penni got a hint of it during their first encounter. His other eye was covered with a black patch and a semi-large scar that ran up from his chin. His hair was tied up in a long ponytail, white streaks and all.

Penni let out a subtle ‘Woah’ as the man peered down at Penni, like he was looking for something.

“What are you doing here?” The man asked, a muddled expression on his face. Penni shrugged her shoulders, grimacing a bit as her eyes traveled down to the floor.

Penniton fiddled with her hands for a moment as she recalled what had happened until now, how would she even start to explain?

“I don't really know…everything around me dissolved into this weird darkness.” Penni explained in a low voice, “I think I blacked out. It kinda felt like I was dead, but there was a powerful, burning feeling that I focused on.” Penni pressed her hand to her chest, reminiscing the outlandish sensation. “And before I knew it, I was here.”

“And that friend of yours?” The man asked, Penni’s eyebrow twitched slightly. She shook her head solemnly.

The man’s mouth curved downward into a half-frown while he ran a hand through his hair. For a short time, he was silent, like he was pondering the following words.

“I hate to say this kid, but your world is gone.” Penni searched for the usual sarcasm in his voice, but she found nothing. She let out a chuckle of disbelief.

“You're joking, right? A whole world can’t just disappear like that.” Penni stated factually, but the sentence was more reassuring to herself.

“You can tell yourself that all you want but I’m telling you, there’s nothing left.” The man said in a matter-of-factly tone. Penni’s breathing hitched as she put her hand over her mouth, a look of perturbation befalling her face. So it was true? Everything was gone?

“God,” Penni dropped her head in her hands.

Her school, every teacher or student she’s gotten to know was gone. She would never step foot in Mr. Guss’ shop again, never hear the question ‘How was your day Penniton?’. And the twins, Mandy and Mason. Penni didn’t even want to contemplate it.

She felt herself tear up at the thought of what happened to her mom, looks like she wouldn’t be riding the train home to her at all.

The man sighed, “Okay, kid, tell you what? If you and that sparkly new Keyblade of yours are willing, I might know a place you could go, for a little while.”

Penni lifted her head up, staring at him hesitantly for a short time, gently reminding him “But…I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Xigbar,” Xigbar answered. Was that his actual name? Huh. Weird name for a weird guy, at least that's what Penni guessed. “Now, are you going to tell me yours or am I going to have to keep calling you ‘kid’?”

“Penniton, but just say ‘Penni’ for short,” Penni explained, he gave out a snicker as if he was trying to hold in a large laugh. “What’s so funny?” She asked, squinting at the man.

“That’s your name?” Xigbar chortled, “Penniton?” The girl huffed, rolling her eyes rather sassily.

“It's not like the name ‘Xigbar’ is anything special.” Penni retorted, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Alright, alright, calm down firecracker,” Xigbar said, grinning. Wait, ‘firecracker’? Penni opened her mouth to protest against the new nickname but the man outstretched his hands to hers. “Are you coming or not?”

Penni circled around the idea for a bit, it’s not like she had much of a choice, what else was she supposed to do? Moreover, at this point, what else did she have to lose? Penni also had a feeling that the worst this guy could do to her was give her another bad nickname. She took the man’s gloved hand.,

“Where are we even going?” A weird noise went through Penni’s ears as a portal-looking thing spawned in front of the two. An expression of concern rose on Penni’s face as she looked at the portal. “Is that…safe?”

For me, it is. For you?” Xigbar paused- then gave a lazy shrug of the shoulders, “...Guess we’ll find out.”

Well, that’s not terrifying at all. But really, what did Penniton have left to lose?

.

.

.

It was only a few seconds, maybe ten, max. But for those ten seconds, it felt like Penni’s breath was being taken away, slowly but surely. By the time the two were out the other side, Penni gasped, a light-headed feeling washing over her.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, you came out in one piece.” Xigbar commented, Penni was less than amused. She surveyed her surroundings, and the first thing she noticed was the lack of color, only a cool white filling her view. It definitely felt castle-y, just the absence of all life, like an unfinished picture.

“Xigbar,” Came a low voice from behind the two, Penni saw the slightly annoyed expression on the eyepatch man’s face before he turned towards the direction of the voice.

It was another coat-wearing male, he seemed younger than Xigbar, with long blue hair and soul-piercing yellow eyes. His expression was cold and distant. One thing that really stood out to Penni though was the ‘x’ shaped scar on the bridge of his nose, it was scary enough to match his already menacing aura.

“You already know that’s mandatory to report back to me after every mission-“ He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Penni’s presence next to Xigbar. He looked kinda disgusted, his eyes narrowing at Penni.

“Surprise,” Xigbar said with obvious sarcasm in his voice, waving his hands in the air slightly. Saix didn’t seem that impressed as his eyes shifted to him and then back to Penni. He went silent for a short time, it was hard to tell exactly what he was thinking since his face barely shifted, but it could’ve been guessed that he was contemplating what words were going to come out of his mouth.

“...Why?” He asked in a slightly questioning voice.

“Well, that isn’t exactly your business, is it?” Xigbar nonchalantly shrugged Saix off, slightly pushing Penni forward as a sign to start walking, and honestly, she couldn’t be happier to end the conversation. She had this gut feeling this ‘Saix’ guy wasn’t exactly pleased with her presence.

“Xigbar,” Saix stated, causing the eyepatch man to stop in his tracks. “I demand an explanation.”

“Calm down moon man, you’ll find out soon enough.” He said, continuing on his merry way, the heels of his boots tapping on the ground as Penni shuffled up behind him. When she felt far away enough down the hall, Penni shifted her head to the side, looking back behind her to catch another glimpse of the blue-haired character. The girl was very quick to whip her head back around when she saw piercing yellow eyes staring back at her.

Penni got the weird feeling that he wasn't that fond of her

The two walked along several more hallways, all of them being the same white color pallet, one after the other. During their walk, a thought came across Penni’s mind. Both Xigbar and Saix were wearing the same black coat and both had the same yellow eyes. Additionally, assuming there were other people besides them in the castle, did everyone have the same similar look to them?

Penni cocked her eyebrow, was this some sort of weird cult?

“Stay put kiddo,” Xigbar lightly said, almost mumbling as he slipped inside a different room through two large white double doors. Penni didn’t even realize the sudden stop they came to.

“M’kay…” The girl replied though he was already out of the room. Penni stood in the empty hallway rather awkwardly, twiddling her fingers while staring at the clean, marble-like floors. It was quiet, except for the muffled voices coming from the door.

Now, Penni wasn’t the type of person to eavesdrop on others' private conversations, but this was different. She slightly scooted closer to the door, leaning her head to the door in an attempt to hear the tiniest snippet of conversation. She didn’t really get much out of it, though Penni swore she heard the word ‘Keyblade’ get thrown around more than once.

“Well, you're a new face.” A new voice came from the side of Penni, the girl quickly whipped around to face the unfamiliar figure, putting her arms behind her back to appear innocent of any attempted eavesdropping.

“Don’t mind me! I’m just waiting for- oh.” Penni’s words trailed off at the slightly surprising sight of the owner of the voice. He had a rather extreme red hairstyle in the shape of downward-facing spikes. His eyes were teal and he had two purple tear-shaped tattoos (or what Penni assumed were tattoos) below them. And what did you know, the redhead was also wearing a black coat.

“Oh? What, is there something on my face?” The redhead joked, pretending to look offended.

“No- I didn’t mean to be rude!” Penni quickly explained in a worried voice. “I was just a bit startled, that’s all.” She mumbled, slightly scratching the back of her head and her eyes drifting away from embarrassment. Where were her manners?

“Don’t sweat it, Penniton.” He said in almost a slight chuckle.

Penni let out a ‘huh’ at the sound of her name being said by the stranger, she quickly began to ask “How do you know my…” The redhead silently pointed to the door, leaning his head towards it more so he could hear a little better, raising his gloved hand to his ear.

“So I was right about the name then.”

“Well, you can just call me Penni for short.”

“In that case, you can call me the Flurry of Dancing Flames- or Axel, for short.” Axel joked, a grin cracking on his face, and to be frank, Penni couldn’t hide the small giggle that came out of her mouth caused by the overly bizarre title. What did it even mean? Maybe it had something to do with his fiery red hair, probably.

“You must be what Saix is so pressed about,” he snorted, as if trying to hold back a laugh, “You’ve got him in quite the tizzy.”

Penni shrunk in on herself, but she suddenly felt his hand come down heavily on her shoulder, “it’s hilarious. Got that memorized?”

If she didn’t know any better, it would seem like this tall —redwood— tree of a man was trying to comfort her.

Because really, he had no reason to. After all, she and him just met, just learned each other’s names.

Was it that he was being nice out of pity? Pity over how lost Penni was in her bizarre predicament, resorting to putting blind trust in some eyepatch-wearing man in a shady coat. Not only that, but she already managed to piss someone off just by her presence, like she was some sort of intruder.

She would hate that if it was the case. If he was being nice out of pity.

“Yeah, I think I do.” Penni lightly chuckled, leaning against the wall. Well, while she was here, maybe she could get some of her questions answered. “If you don’t mind me asking Axel, what is this place?” That was the first question that came to Penni’s head, she had a lot more than that though.

“Well for starters, you’re in the World That Never Was, and you're standing in Organization XIII’s Homebase,” Axel explained rather nonchalantly. Blatant confusion was written all over Penni’s face. But when she thought about it, that was what Xigbar had been saying.

Her world was gone, and she had ended up in an entirely different one.

“You’re saying that this really is a different world?”

“Of course. Let me guess, you’ve been living on the same little world your entire life.” Axel hypothesized, Penni nodded. Up until a few hours ago, her home was the only ‘world’ she’s ever known.

“Well, there are tons of worlds out there, some big and small, like this one. Some are closer to your homeworld, full of humans, right?” He asked the question but didn’t wait for Penni’s response. “What’s more is that there are some full of animals, or mermaids, fairies, sometimes they’re just filled with nothing.” He shrugged. “Got it memorized?”

“Yeah, but- that’s so bizarre, how come I never knew about them, like, a long time ago?” Penni asked, they didn’t exactly teach about different worlds in school.

“Well, that’s because of a little something called ‘World Order’.”

Penniton tilted her head, and her interest peaked. Despite this resembling an exposition dump, she wanted him to continue. The thought of new worlds outside the minuscule one she’d known was fascinating. Was there a world entirely underwater? Was the moon a world? Was there a world full of fashion designers?

For a brief moment, Penni hoped so. That would be fun. But the fond memories associated with that caused a sharp, numbing pain to shoot through her chest. She sucked in her lips, shaking the feeling off. It would be better off if she just forgot about it.

“Pretty much what the Order entails is that you shouldn’t let others know you are from another world when visiting their world.” Axel continued explaining. That made sense why Xigbar was so insistent on dropping as few details as possible when Penni had first met him. Yet it still left her questioning a few things, for starters, why was the order so important in the first place? Would it really be bad if everyone knew about the other worlds?

“If you don’t mind me asking, you said something about there being an organization, what’s that about?” That was probably the most important question Penni had, she had a feeling this ‘organization’ went hand in hand with the fact that every person she met there had a black coat on.

“That is a question you can ask Xemnas yourself,” The infamous and ever so sarcastic voice of Xigbar said, seemingly coming out of nowhere to Penni, how did she not notice him slip back out the door? If she wasn’t mildly used to him popping from nowhere she would’ve jumped.

Before Penni could even ask the question ‘Who’s Xemnas?’, Xigbar pointed back to the door, simply stating with a smirk, “Your turn.”

“Wait, by myself?” Penni looked concerned, not that she couldn’t do it by herself, but the name ‘Xemnas’ just sounded kinda scary.

“Don’t worry about it Penni, you’ll be fine,” Axel reassured, but Penni swore he heard him hold back a giggle.

“Well, don’t keep bossman waiting now,” Xigbar said, motioning Penni forward. She exhaled deeply, opening the doors in front of her, and slipping into the room. Slightly flinching after promptly feeling them shut behind her.

She walked several steps forward, not noting much about the room itself since there wasn’t anything to comment about. It was the same white color scheme in a big room. What drew Penni’s attention the most was the man that stood in the middle of the room, looking out a wall window into the dark night sky. He had long, mid-back silver hair that was layered and slightly messy. Then, of course, he had a black coat on. He must be Xemnas.

Xemnas was facing away from Penni, seemingly in deep thought. Not that deep though, as he could still clearly sense her presence.

“Penniton.” The silver-haired man said in a deep and commanding voice, yet there was a calm tone to it. He turned himself around to look at her, and that’s when Penni saw the similar unnatural yellow eyes, the same color eyes Xigbar had. The man began to walk toward Penni, stopping only a few feet away from her, staring her down for a moment. “I sense darkness in your heart,” He began. Darkness in her heart? What was he talking about? “I wonder why that is.” It didn’t seem that he expected her to answer.

Maybe it was something about his cold demeanor or the way his eyes stared right through her, but he struck an unknown fear in Penni, the type of fear that made her want to just disappear right then and there.

“Your world,” Xemnas started, Penni hoped she wasn’t going to hear the words she thought she was going to hear. “Is gone.”

That was the final confirmation for Penniton, it really was gone. She pursed her lips together, her gaze drifted onto the white floor as she gave a slow nod. Penni felt almost nauseous, her eyes beginning to feel the slightest bit watery, but she held herself together, taking a deep breath, then looking back up at the man in front of her.

“It has succumbed to darkness, alongside many, many other worlds. You should feel lucky you didn’t disappear with it, miraculously.”

“But…I feel like I was supposed to.” Penniton quietly thought aloud, almost in a whisper, just loud enough that Xemnas could hear.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“I was in a dark place, it felt like my body was vanishing in a matter of minutes. I was scared and confused, but then I felt something really strong. A powerful feeling that I held onto that made me feel whole again.”

“And what was that feeling?”

Penniton opened her mouth, but she hesitated to say what she was thinking.

“…Revenge. I’ve been wronged by someone I thought I could trust, she turned her back on me and left me to oblivion. I want her to pay the price for it.” When Penniton spoke she felt the familiar sensation in her chest, it was warm, but not in a comforting way. Though it made her feel more composed, like she could hold herself together.

Xemnas nodded, concluding, “You need to hold onto that feeling further, let it bolster, for it's the only thing keeping your heart as well as your existence from ceasing.” Penni’s eyes went wide at his words, he couldn’t be serious.

“Hearts, Penniton, are a fragile and complex thing, they can hold so much but change so frequently. Your heart, in particular, is broken. The only thing holding it together is the prominent need to achieve the closure you seek. Letting go of that feeling would be releasing the thing keeping you alive.”

Penniton wanted to say something like, ‘You can’t be serious?’ but felt as if it would be too rude to address a man such as him that way, so she remained in silent disbelief, her hands grasping onto her now ruffled school cardigan tightly. Hearts…hearts…hearts…were they really that special? That important? Has everyone always relied on hearts as their life source? They didn’t exactly teach the subject of hearts in boarding school.

And why her heart? When did it become ‘broken’?

“Then, what am I supposed to do?” Penni asked, what can she do? “Am I just supposed to hold onto that feeling forever?” What comes next?

Xemnas didn’t respond, instead, he turned back around, his feet guiding him back to the wall window where he first stood when Penni had entered the room. Penni instinctively followed close behind him, albeit with drag.

“Look up at the sky, Penniton. Do you see that?” Xemnas said, turning the girl’s attention to the dark sky, a small gasp escaped her mouth. There, bright light reflecting off her magenta eyes, stood what seemed to be an enormous heart-shaped moon in the sky; she could probably match the outline by curving her hands. How did she not notice that earlier?

“That is Kingdom Hearts,” Xemnas continued “the gathering place of all hearts this life has to offer.”

Maybe that explains the shape, Penni thought.

“Right now Kingdom Hearts remains incomplete, but that’s what this organization, Organization XIII, works towards, and only then will we all become whole again.”

“Whole?”

“Every member of the organization is a nobody, a shell of who they used to be, removed and devoid of the heart, and in extension, their emotions. Anything left of our feelings is made up from distant memories.”

No emotions? Penniton didn’t really buy it, because in that case, Xigbar and Axel- they were really good actors.

Penniton made her judgment unknown to Xemnas.

“To complete Kingdom Hearts, we collect hearts from the heartless, creatures born from the darkness of one’s hearts. They seek out more hearts to consume, plaguing various worlds of their light until there’s nothing left.”

Similar to what Xigbar said during that fateful encounter, Penniton reminisced on his words for a short moment.

“They never truly die, and they’ll keep coming back, again and again, and again until there’s nothing to come back to.”

“The organization on its own cannot exterminate the heartless and collect the heart, we don’t have the ability to do so. But the keyblade does.”

“You mean- my keyblade?” Penni wondered, pointing to herself curiously. She was returned a nod.

Now, both of them were standing side by side, looking out the windows at the heart-shaped object in the sky. Xemnas put his hand behind his back and resumed his monologue.

“With the completion of kingdom hearts, not only will our hearts be restored, but the fallen worlds will be restored as well.”

Penniton's head snapped towards the man, and her eyes widened.

“R…really?” Her voice almost came out in a quiet mumble, strings of disbelief sewn into it. Was it possible? Could she really fix everything?

Something materialized in Xemnas’ hands in a puff of a dark purplish essence, it was a neatly folded-up black coat.

“Your place can be with the Organization if you so choose, Penniton.”

Penniton looked down at the coat, an overwhelming feeling of hope in her heart.

She was going to fix everything.

.

.

.

“So, a new organization member,” Axel thought aloud, one hand on his hip as his steps echoed down the hallway, all while meager, quieter steps followed after him. “You must be a pretty special case Penni, usually only nobodies get to join.”

Right now, Axel was showing Penni to her room for her indefinite stay. She didn’t see Xigbar anywhere after finishing her rather enlightening talk with Xemnas, but she had a hunch he would pop up again soon.

“About that, does everyone in the organization really not have a heart?” Penni asked skeptically, holding the bundled-up black coat in her arms while also balancing a pair of matching black boots and gloves.

“What, you didn’t believe Xemnas?” Axel stopped, his eyes glancing at Penni. She slowly shook her head.

“Not really, it’s just too bizarre for me to fully believe.” Akin to what she thought earlier, really good actors.

“Well, I can prove it.” The redhead claimed before putting his hand out, pointing to his wrist where the pulse would be. Hesitantly, Penni put two fingers on his wrist, waiting to hear the bump of a heartbeat.

Two seconds passed.

Four seconds passed.

Six seconds…

Eight…

Ten.

“Oh.” Penni breathed out, an unknown expression on her face as she suddenly started walking ahead of Axel. “Sorry, I don’t talk to zombies.”

“Rude! I’m not even a zombie, I’m a ‘nobody’.” Axel retorted, catching up to Penni.

“No need for the self-depreciation, Flame boy.”

He scoffed.

“You really are a riot Penni, I sure hope we get partnered up for missions.” The redhead commented, not really thinking much of it.

That was right, missions.

“Hey Axel, what are the missions like?” Penni asked out of curiosity. In reality, Penni had no idea what she’d be doing besides whacking around her keyblade, which she really didn’t know how to use that well.

“Another question? Jeez, Penni, you're such a chatterbox.” Axel jokingly stated, he continued, not leaving the girl had the chance to say anything else. “Why don’t you wait until tomorrow when Saix gives you your first mission in the Grey Area, he’ll explain everything you need to know then.” Penni let out an unsatisfied groan, the mention of the name giving her a small sense of dread.

It’s amazing how you can never exchange a single word with a person but still have such an immense disdain for their presence.

“Don’t get so gloomy, you’ll have to get used to Saix if you wanna survive sticking with the Organization.” Axel reminded her, “Besides, it’s funny seeing him get worked up just because of one little girl with a keyblade.”

“...Little?”

“Anyways-”

“At least my hair can’t get mistaken for a forest fire.” She retorted, a gasp came from Axel.

“You're just jealous, not everyone is born with magnificent hair like mine!”

“Yeah, right.” Penni attempted to hold back the laugh that came with her sentence, but she had no free hands to cover her mouth with.

The two then stopped in front of a white door, Axel opening it to Penni to reveal a very plain, modest room. There was no more than a desk with a chair, plus a bed. One could call it cozy if it didn’t seem so cold.

“Not very welcoming…” The girl muttered, clear disappointment on her face. Stepping into the room to further inspect it. Her eyes caught two objects laid out on the desk, a notebook as well as a writing utensil. Penni absentmindedly picked up the book, flipping through the blank white pages. “What’s this for?”

“Everyone gets that, it’s simply what it is, a notebook.” Axel broadly explained, leaning on the doorframe. “Think of it as…a courtesy gift. Write anything you want in it, it’s yours to do whatever with it.”

“What did you write in yours?”

“Me?” An eyebrow ever so slightly became arched, like he was surprised Penni asked such a question. He shrugged in response, “Didn’t write in mine, had no reason to so I never did.”

“Ah,” Penni laid the notebook back down, resuming her observation of the room. The next thing her eyes shifted themselves to was outside the window above the bed. A dark and quite frankly unsettling night sky. This sky was much different than the glimmering star-filled one back home, that sky felt full of life. This one felt devoid of any.

“If that’s all, I think I’ll head back to my own room.” The redhead put his hand on the door handle, ready to take his leave. “Have a nice night Penni.” He said, raising a hand, and shooting Penni a lazy smile, lightly shutting the door on his way out.

“Night…” Replied Penni, though he had already left the room. The girl inhaled a deep breath, taking off her glasses to massage the bridge of her nose. She paused though when she noticed the several cracks and scratches in the lenses of her brass-colored glasses. So much had been going on she’d barely noticed the damage her glasses had taken earlier, what's worse was the fact she had them on the whole time. Penni’s eyes narrowed as she set the glasses down on the desk, noting that she would have to get them fixed later, somehow.

In that moment, Penni went from standing up, to her legs promptly guiding her over to the corner bed, her body collapsing on the soft sheets. She had finally, completely let her guard down, and it felt like all emotions that made her vulnerable hit her in one single blow, leaving her with an exhausted feeling. “Yeah…” She thought aloud, pulling the covers over her body. “I need some sleep.” And that was the last thought she had, becoming lulled into a slumber only by the eerie silence of the room.

.

.

.

By the time Penni regained consciousness she assumed a few things. One, she was asleep long enough that it was the next day- even though she couldn’t tell back looking out the window, she had a feeling. Secondly, she would start her “missions” today and finally dawn her new black uniform. Though, a thought- or more of a realization- came across Penni’s head. Axel never told Penni a time when to wake up.

…

“Axel never gave me a time to wake up!” Yelped Penni in distress as she shot up in her bed- her eyes blown wide open. She clumsily fumbled out of the sheets she was entangled with, hurriedly grabbing her uniform she haphazardly placed on the desk the night prior, switching her current clothes with it. “For all I know, I could be late right now- I’m probably late already!” She stressed, throwing on her black boots which to her, were quite stylish in their own merit, that’s the impression Penni had when she gave herself a quick look over. The girl had different opinions when it came to the coat, she would’ve appreciated something slightly shorter, the extra material felt as if it was going to slow her down. Maybe if she got her hands on a mini sewing kit she could shorten it a bit…wait, wait! She had to stay focused!

Penni threw her door open, rushing down the hallways as her mind raced a mile a minute, the sound of her boots clicking on the ground following her. Way to go Penniton, nothing like being unprepared on the first day. Where was she supposed to go again to receive her missions?

“Why don’t you wait until tomorrow when Saix gives you your first mission in the Grey Area, he’ll explain everything you need to know then.”

Right, the Grey Area…wherever that was, Penni should’ve asked Axel more questions. It would be a bit pesky of her, sure, but at least she would know where to go then. Well, Penni was sure she would know what the Grey Area looked like when she got there, and this was a good chance to get herself familiarized with the castle’s interior. But, later on, she should try to acquaint herself with all the organization members, there are thirteen of them, right? She already had met four of them, that way she wouldn’t have to keep bugging Axel with her inquiries.

Axel, Xigbar, Saix, Xemnas…hey, all of those names had the letter ‘X’ in them, Penni wondered what the reason was behind that trend. Penni snapped out of her train of thought once she saw that she was approaching the end of the pasty white hallway, her steps coming to a slow pace as she entered the large, open room. Glancing around quickly she saw that the room was some sort of wedged-shaped lounge, several couches and tables spread about and one large wall made entirely of windows. Could this be the Grey Area?

Penni didn’t have time to make any assumptions, because in that moment a slightly loud ‘Ahem’ grabbed her attention, she looked over to one of the couches where she saw a dreadfully recognizable, blue-haired member sitting crossed-legged while looking through papers.

“Penniton,” Saix grunted in a stale voice, “you’re early.”

Early? Looking around, Penni did see only her and Saix in the room, so that made sense.

“I’m glad, and here I was thinking I was late,” Penni joked with relief washing over her, though Saix didn’t seem all that amused, simply making a short “hm” noise, returning his attention back down to his papers. Penni awkwardly stood in place, trying to think of what to say next, unaware of the fidgeting of her hands and how they were playing around with the metal chains of her coat, creating a persistent clinking noise.

“Could you cut that out? The sound is irritating.” Saix huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his gloved hands.

“Sorry! My bad.” Penni quickly apologized, putting both her hands down. She took a deep breath, then asked her question, “I wanted to ask you, what exactly are the missions like?”

“I thought this was explained already,” Saix sighed heavily, replying to Penni with hostility, “collect hearts.”

“I mean-” Penni held back an irked sigh “I know that but what’s gonna happen.”

The blue-haired member closed his eyes for a moment, finally answering Penni’s question after she had to pry it out of him. “It’s standard that missions are solo, partnered ones being few and far in between…but since you are a new member, for your first few assignments you will be paired up with someone else. Think of them as your advisor, they’ll provide mentoring and assist you throughout your mission.” Penni nodded as he explained all of this.

“In that case, who’s gonna be my partner?” Saix shifted through his papers for a moment, bluntly stating a name without even batting an eye at Penni, “Demyx.”

“Who’s-”

“Morning,” Came a chirpy voice as a member with dirty blonde hair and probably the most impressive mullet Penni has ever seen strut into the room with a slight drag of his feet. And much like all the other organization members, Penni has met thus far, he was much taller than her. He let out a loud yawn as if he had just woken up. He rubbed his tired cyan eyes, squinting while he scanned the room, slightly puzzled. “Aah…am I early?”

“Yes, but since you and your partner are here already, you may as well get along with your mission,” Saix said, getting up from the couch.

“Part…ner?” He mumbled seemingly still out of it, he finally looked over to Penn and his eyes widened as if everything suddenly clicked. “Ohhh, you’re the new girl!”

Penni gave a weak laugh, “You can call me Penni, I'm guessing you must be-,”

“Demyx,” He smiled at her, outstretching a fist. The girl was lost at the straightforwardness. Was he being serious? The thought of pity went through Penni’s mind again. A voice spoke up again and she didn’t have a chance to return the fist..

“Ahem,” The two turned their attention to an apathetic Saix. “You are both being assigned to Neverland. Demyx, since Penniton is unable to summon her own dark corridors, you are responsible for getting the both of you there and back.” He narrowed his eyes, “To put it in simple terms, there has been a rising infestation of heartless, all you have to do is cut down the numbers and collect the hearts.” Cut down the numbers, and collect hearts. Got it. “Remember to both remain focused on your objectives, then report back to me once you’ve finished.”

Demyx gave Saix a thumbs up plus a ‘You got it boss’ then summoned a corridor, giving Penni zero prep time or a forewarning as Demyx quickly pulled the both of them through it.

Going through the dark, murky portal was easier this time around, Penni didn’t feel like she had to hold her breath and she didn’t feel the invisible force clawing at her. The coat dressed over her body gave her a sense of comfort, not necessarily warmth, but protection. Everything was still uneasy, sure, but the experience was much more bearable this time.

Much to Penni’s comfort, it was only a few short moments until the two came out of the other side of the portal corridor, bright sunlight hit the girl’s skin, the warmth tickling her with immense solace. It was such a warm welcome compared to the drabby coldness she had been enduring as of late.

Penni took a deep breath, the salty smell of the nearby ocean filling her nose as the sound of seagulls called out nearby. By the looks of it, she was standing on a sandy mini beach on the edge of a patch of lush, green tropical forest.

“This is Neverland?” Penni gawked, staring out at the aqua-blue ocean and the full palm trees. “I’ve never been somewhere so…blissful.” The whole scenery reminded her of the type of place she would see on a postcard, picture-perfect. Her mom always talked about going to a place as alluring as the beach Penni stood on.

“It would be a lovely vacation, don’t you think so?”

That’s what she always would say, she even set aside munny in an old jar for the conceptualized trip. “I would say it’s a fine reward for when you come back home, a way to celebrate and unwind from another great school year!”

Penni’s mom always tried giving her the better things in life, carefully made clothes you’d think were tailored from some sublime company store, while in reality, her mom spent her extra time sitting at the table on the sewing machine. Or an exceptional education at some prestigious boarding school, like the school in her hometown wasn’t ‘prestigious’ enough.

“Only the best for my Penniton, trust me, this will be a great first step for your future.”

If only mom could see the future Penni was in right now.

“Mmm, it’s not as nice as Atlantica though,” Demyx said, looking out at the water thoughtfully like he was daydreaming.

“We should start looking for those heartless!” Suggested Penni rather eagerly. Cut down the numbers, to do that Penni would have to find some heartless. Those were the thoughts that went through Penni’s head as she turned away from the sea to get going on her objective.

“Uh- yeah, about that Penni.” Demyx said, stopping Penni’s advances by putting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m actually not very good at these types of missions,” The man gulped, his hand scratching the back of his neck. “Honestly they’re just not for me, y’know? I’m way better at recon missions and stuff.”

“Recon missions-?” Penni mumbled before shaking her head, she’ll ask about it at a different time. “So you don’t fight at all?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I totally can, but I’m sure not good at it.” He explained in a weakened tone, his eyes awkwardly avoiding Penni’s gaze. The girl couldn’t help but frown, uttering a hushed ‘ah,’ with a face turned away to hide her irked expression. “But it’s all cool since you got a keyblade!” Demyx looked back at Penni with a cheery grin on his face, “By the way, do you think I can see it?”

“Huh, my keyblade?” Penni outstretched her hand, concentrating on summoning the key-shaped object like she did not too long ago, her eyebrows furrowing with intense focus.

Though, it wasn’t long until her focused expression faltered when she realized with slight panic in her voice that, “It’s not appearing.” Penni’s tone dropped to a whisper voice as her hand slightly twitched.

“What was that?”

“We should stay focused like Saix said. Fighter or not, you gotta stick with me, we’re…’partners’ after all.” She said in a hasty attempt to switch the subject. Yet she wasn’t exactly lying, the two did have to keep their sights on the objective.

“Let’s get going.” Penni insisted, resuming her advancement inward into the lush greenery, a dejected ‘awh man’ heard from behind her.

The word partners also dragged on Penni’s tongue, she found the word simply unfit for what she would call her and Demyx. Her partner was supposed to assist their mission, not lag behind in the combat department because it’s just ‘not for them’.

In the meantime, Penni would have to figure out a solution to her current predicament. Her right hand clenched and unclenched in hopes it would materialize while she was in her deep thoughts. How come she isn’t able to summon it now, on command? She was able to do it not too long ago when she met Xigbar. What was so different now?

The notion began chewing Penni up in her mind, if she couldn’t use her keyblade, the only thing that was to her name at the moment, then what was the point of her existence in the organization? Or her existence at all? She had a major job to do, so why couldn’t her key just work the way she wanted it to and appear?

For now, she’ll just have to keep her dilemma to herself to the best of her ability, and especially keep it unknown to the blonde behind her. While Demyx did seem nice enough, he was bound to rat her out to Saix, or worse, Xemnas.

“Or maybe both,” Penni whimpered aloud, her feet feeling just a little bit heavier with each step she took, lips pursing.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

It was nothing, everything was fine, everything was cool. Everything was-

“Get back here!”

The sudden new voice caused both Penni and Demyx to freeze up, the girl in a defensive stance and the blonde propped up behind her like she was a sort of human shield.

At that time, Penni swore she saw something zip in front of her view, but couldn’t dawdle on the thought for long because a ginger boy dressed in green came practically tumbling out of some bushes.

“Darn shadow, where did you go?” He grumbled in a pouty tone, the boy got himself up off the ground and readjusted the cap on his head with a huff. Penni's arms relaxed, a relieved sigh leaving. She let out a purposeful cough to get the boy’s attention.

“Oh, hey there!” The boy greeted, “Say, have you seen my shadow around here, It’s about this tall I would say.” He explained, marking the imaginary height with his hand.

“Shadow? I don’t think we’ve-” Penni looked to the back of her to see her partner was in fact, nowhere to be found. “-I don’t think I’ve seen a loose shadow around here.”

Was this a joke? Was this boy really looking for his shadow? Penni’s eyes flashed down to where both her and the boy’s shadow would be. Much to her surprise, hers was there, but not his.

Weird, who is this guy?

What was seen to be a fickle ball of light quickly swerved past Penni, distracting her from the chance to start asking investigating questions. It flew all the way over to the boy, landing on his shoulder. Squinting, the girl made out a humanoid figure of a tiny person with blonde hair tied in a bun along with a short green leafy dress. But the most outstanding feature was the clear set of wings that Penni has never seen on any kind of insect or bug. There was only one logical conclusion on what she was looking at.

“A fairy!” Penni gasped out in astonishment, her face lightening up in delight. “A real-life fairy, she’s so pretty!”

“Yep! This is my pal, Tinkerbell.” The boy introduced as the small fairy gave a mini courtesy of sorts. Penni swore she saw her mouth move but the only thing she heard was the light jingling of what supposedly were bells.

…Ohhh.

“And I’m Peter, Peter Pan!” Peter said proudly, throwing his hands over his hips.

“Pleasure to meet you two, I’m Penniton, but call me Penni.”

“Alright Penni, would ya mind helping me out in finding my shadow, he should be around here somewhere…” Normally, or in any other situation, Penni would gladly assist him. But right now she had a job to do, and a missing blonde.

“Ah, I would but I’m a little busy right now- I’m looking for a couple of shadows myself,” Tinkerbell said something to Peter before they both curiously looked back at Penni.

“What type of shadows?” Peter asked, tilting his head.

“Oh, well…” The girl, not expecting such a question, thought about it for a second. “They’re about this big, all black, and have two skinny antennas. You’ve seen any?”

“Nope, don’t think I have. But hey! Maybe if you help us you’ll find what you're looking for along the way.”

“As much fun as that sounds, I really should focus on my own thing.” Penni insisted, taking a few steps away from the pair. “But good luck find your- er- shadow!”

The duo looked faintly disappointed, which made Penni feel a small tinge of guilt in her heart.

“I’ll make sure I keep a lookout for it.” She offered, that brought a smile back to Peter’s face.

“Alright, see ya around then Penni!” Peter gave the girl a quick wave, him and Tink then running off somewhere else to continue their search. Penni felt a small smile grow on her face, giddiness building up inside her. She just met a real fairy!

The excitement almost made her forget why she was here…almost.

“Good cover Penni!” Demyx congratulated, practically popping in next to Penni- something that didn’t fail to make her flinch.

“It wasn’t really a cover,” She mumbled. “And where did you go? I thought you left me.”

“Nah, I had to stay out of sight. World order, y’know?” Demyx rested an arm on Penni’s shoulder, something he could very easily do with his height. “By the way, I was thinking. Why don’t we split up?”

“Split up?” Penni cocked her head to the side, giving him a confused look. “What for?”

“We’ll be able to cover more ground, and if we're both collecting hearts we’ll finish the mission way faster.” The idea Demyx presented did seem reasonable in retrospect, but Penni had the small feeling there were ulterior motives behind it.

“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for us to split up this early, if I need help you have to be close to me to actually- y’know, help me.” Penni said slightly impassively, “And like I said before, we’re partners so we gotta stick together.”

“Whatever you say, Penni.” The blonde muttered, and the girl could practically feel the aura of his sulkiness.

.

.

.

After a while of walking aimlessly through the dense trees, Penni failed to think of any small talk to make with her partner. She had a lot of questions to ask Demyx, sure, but questions were the only ones leaving her mouth as of late so she attempted to refrain from asking them for now. She opened her mouth to finally say something, but the sound of rustling leaves made her and Demyx pause.

“Do you hear that?” Penni asked, looking around cautiously, her hands scanning the area. She slightly flinched when she saw several figures move through the trees above. Her right hand tightened around nothing as she tried to visualize her keyblade.

Visualize, visualize, visualize…

Her eyes narrowed as the figures stopped moving, jumping down to lower branches where Penni could now easily see them, their backsides anyways. Her body relaxed as her hand untightened.

“Awh, it's just a bunch of monkeys!” Penni cooed with a gleeful smile on her face, looking up at the absolutely adorable animals.

“Are you sure? They look way too colorful to be monkeys…” Demyx mumbled, making a concerned face. ‘Tis was true, from what the girl could see, the creatures were shades of pink and blue, she shrugged this off though.

“Maybe it’s normal for this world, if there are magical fairies, then multicolored monkeys don’t seem too far-fetched.”

But, Penni couldn’t help but stare at the animals a little longer, and that’s when she noticed something. For a bunch of monkeys, they were awfully quiet, in fact, they didn’t make any sound resembling a monkey at all. And hey-, did the pink ones have bows on their heads?

Then, one of the monkeys turned around, making direct eye contact with Penniton. It was only then she could see its full appearance, those infamous, beady yellow eyes bored right into hers.

“Those aren’t monkeys,”

[campbluelake]

THE THOMASIN IORI PROJECT | Ch2 Execution

Tommy is enraged by the verdict, by the rude words and everyone’s refusal to just listen to her and admit that she was right all along, and she throws down the phone in anger.

“You know what?! Fine! I tried to help, but nooo! Alice just had to have too thick a skull and hardly any of you people know genius when you see it! I’m gonna have to run out of here myself, I see how it is! Enjoy fighting to be the last one standing, suckers!”

Not giving it a chance, Tommy dashes right into the fire before it has the chance to drag her off like it did for Kaede. It’s just the forest again, right? She’ll handle it, she’ll outrun it since she has a head start and knows what to expect–

The scene flickering in the fire isn’t quite the same though.

The flame seems to stutter and shake with a strange filter over it, almost camera-like, over a dark path with a large house overlooking it getting closer and closer as footsteps running over gravel slow down to a stop to look over the house. 

“What–hold on, this isn’t–how far did I end up running…? –Wait, this place was here the whole time?!”

A familiar high pitched voice sounds shocked at the development as she takes in the house, before the view rapidly flips to show a familiar face, a bit awkwardly close up and not entirely visible because of the light beaming off her glasses, but Thomasin’s toothy, spiteful grin is recognizable all the same. 

“See–I was right! This goes bigger than just the camp–it’s been watching us! Something…it’s probably in that house!” 

The camera pans back towards the door, focused on Tommy’s feet walking up towards the steps, then her hand turning the doorknob. 

“Obviously, I was onto something…I can just use this footage as proof and then get it to the department as soon as they get here, and I’ll…huh, how am I gonna get it to them? Either I live, possess somebody, or ask Mason to let them into my room…” 

She keeps muttering to herself as she walks inside, the screen taking in the dilapidated house that doesn’t seem like it’s been lived in for a while, despite the several odd looking red symbols and handprints covering the walls. 

“Ok, these are–it’s occult obviously, so I’m probably right in assuming that Ranger Buddy needs us to die for some kind of ritual. All we’ve gotta find out is WHY. Of course, since I made it here, I’m gonna find out in no time at all…” 

A strange shadow flickers on the walls, near a set of stairs leading up to the second floor that Thomasin follows with an eager whisper. 

“There! Just like last time! I saw it! As soon as I get a good shot of it, I-I can run back out and find the camp again, then–” 

The camera focuses on the figure on the stairs, small but eerily familiar even in the dark. 

“Lydia? But that doesn’t make any sense, isn’t she supposed to already be–”

Some unseen force seems to knock the camera out of Thomasin’s hands, and it clatters to the ground along with a pair of round glasses. The floor and the glasses are the only things that can be seen, aside from Tommy’s lower body suspended in the air and kicking around.

.

“Th-this doesn’t line up, I need more time–hold on–hold on hold on HOLD ON HOLD ON WAIT WAIT STOP IT–” 

Several ungodly growls and loud screams peak into a static as…well. A large splatter of blood covers Thomasin’s glasses and the camera, leaving up to the imagination what might have caused the screaming to die down into choked squelching coughs and sobs, and what force might have caused the picture to violently cut to static before fading back into fire. 

Either way, there’s no denying that Thomasin Iori is dead.

[qu1etwolf]

Click Me For Comfort

Bucky/Natasha/Reader (Nightmare)

A/N - These are little Y/N blurbs specially written for people like me who deal with a lot of ment health issues and could use a little comfort from their favorite MCU characters. Feel free to send me requests for these.

TW - Graphic violence

Characters - Bucky, Natasha

Summary - Y/N has a nightmare during a mission.

You hear screaming all around you. The coppery smell of blood and the sharp smell of gunpowder invades your senses in the dimly lit room. You walk slowly down the hallway, stepping across bodies of loved ones, friends, and strangers you only met once or twice…but all of the faces are recognizable. Nothing about this feels right.

You open doors and they lead to strange places - mostly places you recognize but also a few that you don't. All of them are full of violence.

You can feel the scream buzz up your spine like someone touched you with a live wire. You turn and find yourself face to face with the wrong end of a pistol an inch from your face.

"Y/N." The sound comes from the other side of the gun and it is jarring. You vaguely register the soft voice.

"Y/N…" You hear it again as smoke fills the room and reality fuzzes around the edges a little.

"Y/N!" You open your eyes to soft green eyes and a delicate hand on your shoulder. 

You blink for a minute, sitting up and looking quickly around the room. No blood, no smells, no bodies, no gun in your face. Was it a dream? It must have been a dream. You suck in air and let it back out in a loud huff. You slowly register Natasha's face.

"I was dreaming again, wasn't I?"

She nods and says, "You were. But you're in the safehouse. You're fine, sweetie. I'm just thankful these walls are thin. Are you okay?"

"I think so? My head is still buzzing. Can you hand me my bag?" you say, sleep and fear still dripping from your voice.

Natasha nods and hands you your backpack from the floor. You root around in it for a minute before pulling out a small orange pill bottle. You take a pair of your anxiety meds and chase them with the glass of water you always keep beside your bed at night. The act of just finding and taking your meds calming you down considerably even before the meds themselves dull your senses.

"Y/N? Don't move. I'll be back in a minute." As soon as Natasha leaves the room the hair on the back of your neck prickles a little. You don't like being alone after a nightmare that rough.

She quickly re-emerges through your door followed by a yawning Bucky rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The three of you have been on this mission for a few weeks. You have all gotten used to your various bouts of sleeplessness and nightmare fits. It comes along with being who you are. You don't know a single Avenger who doesn't have a hard time sleeping now and again - except maybe Vision, but that's self-explanatory.

"Natalia said you had a rough one? That she heard you kick the wall, you alright? Need to talk it out? Wanna take a walk?" His voice is still heavy with sleep as he yawns again. "I can go make coffee."

You shake your head, not wanting to be that much of a bother. "No, I'm okay. And it was the same old thing. Nothing unusual."

Natasha folds her arms and Bucky glares at you and plants his feet in the doorway before leaning against the doorframe. "You are not okay, you look like you went 10 rounds with Thanos."

"Alright, fine. Maybe I'm not okay. But I'm not up to talking about it either. I just wanna go back to sleep."

Natasha smiles, "Well, I think that we can manage."

She gestures toward you with her head as she stretches out on one side of you and tugs you over onto her shoulder. She pulls your arm across her stomach and gives your hair a rustle like you were a 1/4th the age that you are. You feel the bed behind you dip as Bucky steals half the blanket and curls up against your back, wrapping an arm across your hip.

"There. That better, doll?" he says quietly before passing right back out.

You nod and nuzzle into Natasha's arm, eventually falling into a quiet dreamless sleep.

[soyfreesmore]

Can you give me tips about characterization and story writing and how let you readers keep up with your upcoming chapters ?

Sure! I’d love to!

So, for me, my tips should probably be taken as a grain of salt because what works for me might not work for everyone, but I’m always happy to share!

1. Physical Characterization: with this one, the best tip I can give is to start off small. Figure out the basics of your character. You know, stuff like “they’re smart, creative, and impulsive” and figure out a few basics of what they look like, find specific details to focus on. Like the design of their freckles or if they have a crooked nose or a facial scar, or big ears. Try to find distinct and easy ways to recognize your characters through both physical and personality traits. For instance, my character Kya is petite, she has black hair that matches the dark shade of her eyes, she has a small beauty mark below her left eye and wears round glasses. However her most distinct and signature trait is that she wears hair bows, usually a blue one. Now she’s easily recognizable to the audience. Now you’re going to associate hair bows with Kya. Association works wonders, find traits for people to associate with your characters.

2. Personality Characterization: Personality wise, you’re gonna want to do the same thing, you’ll want to figure out some signature personality t traits that make it easy to associate with your character and really make them stand out! For instance, with Kya, some of her most common traits is that she’s witty, charismatic, and impulsive. If someone is causing chaos in the background, it’s usually a safe get to assume it’s her. Now she’s not only easy to find in a crowd based off of her looks, but her personality as well! Try to find things unique to your characters, something that really helps drive home who they are and make them easily recognizable to the audience, try to make sure they have iconic and memorable traits in not just their physical appearance (including how they dress) but also their personality! Hope this helped!

3. Story Writing: This is probably unhelpful but honestly? Just start writing. Listen, you can plot, outline, and think about your story all you want but you don’t actually know what’s going to happen until you start to write it. For me, personally, I usually make multiple outlines and change them the further into the story I get, my stories rarely follow along the original plans I had for them, they take off and become their own thing. Now, outlining and plotting can be really important, and I think it’s a good idea to take a minute and write down the main things you want to happen in your story and when they should happen, but don’t be too upset if you don’t stick to it, follow the natural flow of your story and let your characters help guide you over where to go. I mentioned this in one of my earlier posts, but one of the best things you can do is listen to your characters and let them help you figure out where the story needs to go!

4. Promoting: Alright, this is gonna be the one I struggle to help you with the most. I keep my readers updated by prompting new episodes (as I write serial fiction) through social media platforms, I usually give them a little snippet of what the next episode holds and then direct them to where they can find it. This seems to work, however you also have to have readers who wanna read your work, and unfortunately, I’m still figuring out how to get readers invested in my story! I’m hoping that they’ll see how much genuine love I have for my story, my world, and especially my characters and feel drawn to it, but it’s still a major work in progress. Another thing that helps is to make a newsletter! Though I’m also still working on that as well.

This is about all I‘ve got, I hope this helped, and thanks for the ask! I’m always happy to answer!

[cinnaminsvga]

a love that endures | Yoongi

→ summary: 

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look who’s coming over to say hello!”

{or alternatively: Yoongi and Y/N. Y/N and Yoongi. High school sweethearts that were never meant to last, until a reunion ten years later manages to reignite a flame that never quite burnt out.} 

→ genre: high school reunion!au, exes to lovers, fluff, humor, minor angst → warnings: shy!yoongi and shy!oc live rent free in my brain, mutual pining is poggers, hoseok and seokjin aren’t evil for once in a cinnaminsvga fic, implied smut so it’s pg-13 because i’m a wimp → words: 14.4K → a/n: SHE’S ALIVE!! this is dedicated to @himbeaux-joon​ who commissioned this piece ages ago. thank you again for requesting this because this was honestly so much fun to write. i’ve been in a bit of writing slump these past few weeks but this fic came out so easily and got way longer than expected (perhaps because it’s about yoongi and he’s always been the easiest one to write for me). enjoy!! ;o;

The mere sight of him is enough to knock the wind out of you.

Your body freezes, the hand curled around your paper cup filled with punch tightening ever so slightly. It isn’t like you’re surprised that he came; you aren’t supposed to be. Of course, you should have expected his arrival, but you’ve been hoping all night that he might have been too busy to attend.

He isn’t even on time—it has almost been two hours since the event started and you had been filled with a false hope that perhaps he had RSVP’d and decided he couldn’t make it. 

You had seen Hoseok, his best friend from your younger days, standing outside the entrance of the ballroom before they had started letting people in. The moment Hoseok saw you, he immediately came over to sweep you into a tight hug, his infectious laughter ringing in your ears. He had greeted you happily, expressing how much he missed you since high school, but never once bringing up the elephant in the room.

It wasn’t like you were going to bring him up first. No, that would be weird on your part. Nevermind the fact that going to high school reunions was a recipe for reliving past traumas and seeing all your childhood friends either married or pregnant—you weren’t going to be that person who asked where their ex was. You refused to be the person craning their neck to spy on the entrance every two minutes, hoping to catch sight of an old familiar face.

The problem is that you are that person, and you kind of hate yourself for it. However, it is also the reason why you are probably the only person in the entire ballroom who notices his quiet arrival.

He has never liked causing commotions, which is often apparent from the way he conducts himself. He walks into the room just as a loud round of applause breaks out; an old schoolmate of yours is walking up to the podium, probably the person who had arranged the get-together in the first place. It is a perfect distraction for him as he slinks past the door, keeping near the wall so as not to be seen by anyone just yet.

(Except he has been seen—he just doesn’t know it yet.)

You do not know for how long you stare at him, just that it takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken a breath since he stepped foot into the same space as you. You take a deep, shuddering breath, forcing your racing heartbeat to calm down. You swallow thickly, throat so unbearably dry that even drinking from your lukewarm cup of punch doesn’t seem to do anything.

But the undeniable truth is there, standing only a few meters away from you, and nothing on earth will be able to wash away the nerves flooding through your system.

After ten years of radio silence, Min Yoongi is in your orbit once again.

In the grand scheme of things, ten years wasn’t all that long. Four years in university had passed by in a blur, and the absolute chaos that ensued right after you graduated as you scrambled to secure a job and move out of your hometown had made the days seem shorter than they actually were. You had not even noticed that time was passing until you found that cream envelope waiting for you one day after work, your alma mater’s school crest painfully recognizable even after all these years.

During all that time, the world around you shifted without you noticing, and that meant people were changing too.

Yoongi is 28 now. And so are you, after many months of denial. You have not seen each other since you were both 18—both of you far too young to know about any of the things you would experience in the next ten years.

He might have grown a little taller since then, something you are sure that your brother will find amusing. His hair isn’t dyed like you remembered, as he has opted to keep it his natural dark black that you have not seen since you were both in middle school. It’s styled differently too: combed over and gelled back, with his bangs pushed back and his forehead exposed. When he turns his head to the side, a gasp spills past your lips before you can stop it.

“Is that a fucking undercut?” you mutter in shock, your eyes straining out of their sockets as you try to drink him in. Even under the dim lighting of the ballroom, his new haircut is hard to miss. No one else seems to be undergoing the same mental collapse as you, judging by how everyone’s attention is still fixated on the person speaking at the podium. How the hell is no one else losing their fucking minds to the sight of Min Yoongi with a fucking undercut? Some questions are impossible to answer, you surmise.

When you decided to attend the reunion, you had not once thought about how Yoongi would look like. Somehow, you had developed this stagnant picture of him in your head, even after all these years. To you, he will always be the boy with the stark blonde hair, the mismatched eyelids, the pouty lips, the dumpling cheeks. He is the boy who can’t wear his own contact lenses to save his life, the boy who sometimes wears his favorite leather jacket to sleep, the boy who only drinks Americanos like it was water.

Gone are those days, you realize. That image of him has been smashed to pieces, instead replaced by this dashing (and incredibly hot) man—a stranger. A stranger with unbleached (and healthy) hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He has his glasses kept away, and there is no leather jacket in sight.

But you can see him, if you look hard enough. The same spark in his eye, the same curve of his lips. You catch him smiling for a second, and his cheeks still puff up like dough. Maybe it’s just hopeless thinking, but you see him. It’s still him. To you, he will always be your 18-year-old Min Yoongi, the one who would greet you with a sweet kiss on the forehead every time you would—

Raucous applause breaks you from your train of thought, and you blink rapidly in surprise. You have to forcibly pull yourself out of your Yoongi-induced trance, clapping alongside everyone without really knowing what was going on. All of the extra noise sounds like buzzing in your ears, especially when it is drowned out by the roar of your blood rushing to your head all at once.

“Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. We will begin the program right after dinner, so please feel free to help yourselves to the buffet! Cheers everyone!” You faintly hear your old schoolmate speak, before her voice is quickly overrun by the commotion of people walking over to the extravagant display of food. It takes a moment for the crowd of heads to disperse, so when you can finally look back to where you last saw Yoongi, he is no longer alone.

Hoseok has his arm slung around Yoongi, his infectious laughter loud enough to be heard over clinking plates and silverware. The two are as different as night and day, with Hoseok practically bouncing from excitement and Yoongi rolling his eyes from annoyance. But it is easy to see that his pout is nothing but a ruse; you can already catch the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your own seams breaking, unwittingly sporting a grin of your own. It is nice to know that Yoongi hasn’t been alone all this time, that he still seems close with his old best friend. You cannot count the number of friendships that you have lost over time, and you still grieve many of them during your quiet moments. Alas, it was often never even anyone’s fault, the strains of adulthood often being the biggest deal breakers in your relationships.

That is, of course, except for one.

“Enjoying yourself? I didn’t think we’d share the same voyeuristic tendencies,” says a voice, creeping up behind you. Now, normal people would not usually expect other sane people to invade your personal space and breathe directly into your ear, but that’s just your humble opinion. What you do know is that one certain individual enjoys breaking the mold when it comes to societal norms, and it is none other than…

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek, nearly sucker-punching the offending degenerate in the face. You hold back your fist from connecting with his face, but your resulting irritation remains. Whether that irritation is because you regret holding back or not will unfortunately also have to remain unanswered. “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Oh, no need for that. Most people usually call me Seokjin,” he snickers, thoroughly enjoying your flushed face. Kim Seokjin pats you on the shoulder, his trademark “pretty boy” smile still as radiant as you remembered. It does nothing to quell your urge to raise your fists again, however. “Hello, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” you snort. Much like how Yoongi was with Hoseok, your derision is nothing but a rouse. As much as you want to kick Seokjin in the nuts, you also cannot ignore how much you want to hug him the slimy bastard—but you definitely will not be the first one to admit it. So like the tsundere that you are, you decide to insult him instead. “Why are you here? You’re not even from this class. Don’t you have other things to do? Or rather, people to do?”

“My heart! You wound me,” he gasps, grasping his chest as though he’d been shot. “How could you say that to your best friend in the entire world? Don’t you know how much I missed you?”

“Easy. I do it because the only other alternative would lead me straight to prison,” you shrug, but your grin betrays you.

This time, you don’t jolt away when he closes in for a hug. “And I guess I miss you too,” you say, your words slightly muffled into his chest. Like always, he sees through your prickly act because as much as you like to pretend, Kim Seokjin is kind of amazing—loose bolts and all.

“It’s nice to know that your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, though I suppose I wouldn’t be intimately knowledgeable in that area. After all, I still am very much a raging homosexual and pussy isn’t really my forte,” Seokjin guffaws, his volume causing a few nearby guests to raise their heads in alarm.

You bow at them, sheepishly apologizing on his behalf before grabbing him by the collar.

“Will you stop being embarrassing for just one second? I swear, I thought I retired from my babysitting job when I graduated high school,” you hiss, but the way his mouth curls up with mischief is answer enough. God, you missed this son of a bitch.

“Unfortunately for you, being a pest is part of my DNA,” he smirks, carefully plucking your hands off from his neck, as though your nails were not mere inches away from ripping his trachea into pieces. “Though, I am offended by your assumption that I am still the same slut that you knew. I’ve grown up a little, you know! I’m a changed man!”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you of all people have settled down,” you laugh, not missing the way Seokjin’s perfectly stenciled brow raises slightly.

“I know we haven’t seen each other since Christmas, but come on Y/N! You of all people should be applauding me for my improved behavior! You must have noticed how much I changed when I visited.”

“When you visited me last Christmas, you immediately insulted my taste in kitchen towels, went on Grindr to find a hookup despite my numerous pleas, and promptly desecrated my guest bedroom that no housekeeper or priest is willing to exorcise to this day,” you gag, shuddering at the memory. “And then you ate all my ice cream and proceeded to clog my toilet!”

“Um? Aren’t you forgetting that I also bought you that dress you wanted? Rude,” Seokjin retorts, not the least bit remorseful. “Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to be my best bitch for life. You know that I take pinky promises very seriously.”

Unfortunately, he does take his promises seriously. It is probably the only thing he’ll ever be serious about, as much as the man enjoys parading his depravity. “Okay, whatever. I’ll bite. Who’s the unlucky man you’ve managed to deceive into a relationship?”

“Oh, it’s someone we both used to know. I’m his plus one for tonight,” he says, supplying you with the most useless non-answer imaginable.

“Seokjin. We’re at a high school reunion. We know everyone here. That could be anyone!” you exclaim.

“Well, isn’t that fun? Then we can do a scavenger hunt!” Seokjin grins, clapping his hands together excitedly. He pulls you in front of him, forcing the two of you to survey the crowd. “Okay, hold your arm out like this—” After a few seconds of you failing to resist him, he manages to get you to unfurl your finger as if you were about to order something from the dollar menu at McDonalds. Unfortunately for you, the tall twink is stronger than he appears. “—and just keep pointing around until I tell you that you’re getting warmer!”

“Seokjin, I don’t think this is very—” you start, but Seokjin is already moving your arm for you. Like a hurricane, Kim Seokjin listens to no one but his own homewrecking whims.

“Park Chanyeol? Close, but not really. You should know that I don’t double dip with past flings,” he says, shifting you to the left. “Kim Namjoon? Now that’s a hunk of meat that I wish I’d taken a bite of, but unfortunately he’s as straight as a ruler. Pass,” he hums, continuing to move you bit by bit.

You’re both getting uncomfortably close to where Yoongi is, and Seokjin doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. You did notice that Yoongi had come dateless to the reunion (a fact, by the way, that you did not rejoice over when you had noticed), but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single. You have known Seokjin for more than a decade at this point, and despite your odd friendship, you are sure that he would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.

Though, that does beg the question… How far does his dick thirst really go? Maybe you’ll finally find out today.

“Warmer, getting warmer…” Seokjin inches you closer and closer to where Yoongi is standing. You feel frozen in his grasp, unsure if you wanted to know anymore. If Seokjin really is dating Yoongi, then what? It’s not like you were dating him anyway… What difference does it make if it’s Seokjin?

(It makes all the difference, but you refuse to think about it.)

“Nope, not Wonho... A little bit to the left… Bingo!” Seokjin declares, stopping your finger right on— “No, Y/N! Stop moving! You’ve gone too far to the wall! I was pointing at him.”

“H-Hoseok? You’re dating Hoseok?!” You squeak, an avalanche of relief flooding through you. You don’t even have the energy to pretend to be composed as your entire body starts untensing involuntarily, your shoulders slumping as though a weight has been lifted from you. “Why couldn’t you have just told me like a normal person? Why must everything be tortuous and dramatic when it comes to you?”

“I am a naturally insufferable and theatrical person. Sue me,” he shrugs, greatly enjoying the exhausted look on your face. “What? Were you actually scared that I was dating your sloppy seconds? What do you think I am? An asshole?”

You stare at him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Seokjin scoffs. “If I wanted to get roasted, I would approach two tops at a gay bar.” He pauses. “Wait, are you seriously not going to congratulate me for finally snagging a boy who has a functioning moral compass?”

“Define ‘snagging.’ Did you, like, tie him up and blackmail him to become your boyfriend like those terrible One Direction Wattpad fanfics, or—” You stop halfway, giggling at your friend’s unamused pout. “Okay, okay. Yes, Seokjin. I am very proud of you. Congrats on finally becoming an adult. Your hoe days are over.”

“Who said they were over?” He snorts. Noticing your alarm, Seokjin rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I’m not into infidelity and you know that. I just meant that I’m still a hoe with significantly fewer options.”

“How did that even happen in the first place?” you say, jabbing your thumb in Hoseok’s direction. Thankfully, the man in question is still busy talking to Yoongi, though you don’t know for how much longer. If Seokjin isn’t lying, then there’s a high chance they’re going to walk over to say hi and you’re not sure if you’re mentally prepared to go through the five stages of grief all over again.

“Believe me, I’m surprised as well. I started dating Hoseok after he asked me for help with his sister’s wedding gift. He asked me to help arrange an itinerary for her sister’s honeymoon in America,” Seokjin explains with a dreamy smile. He sighs, holding a hand up to his chest. You can physically see the heart emojis circling his head like a halo. “We hit it off from there and dare I say… Not only is he the only person who can keep up with my high maintenance lifestyle, but dear Lord, he could totally be recruited into the NDA for his astounding dick game—”

“Ever heard of TMI? Gross,” you interrupt, your face crumpling in disgust. You shove him away when his loud cackles start rattling your eardrums.

“You were scared though, right?” he says through his giggles. “When you thought that I was dating Yoongi?”

Of course Seokjin had noticed your mini-mental breakdown, judging from the shit-eating grin on his face.

“N-no,” you stutter, but your heated cheeks and averted gaze give you away. “E-either way, I wouldn’t have cared if you did!” you say. You know, like a liar.

“I bet you don’t care that Yoongi got significantly hotter in the past ten years too, huh?” Seokjin teases, snickering loudly. Under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent chandelier lights, you might have mistaken the boy in front of you for the devil instead of your best friend of almost twenty years.

“I sincerely rue the day I introduced myself to you in the third grade,” you hiss, sipping from your cup to hide your humiliation.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re all embarrassed,” Seokjin coos, pinching your cheeks with the gentleness of an ape. You slap his hand away, unable to think of any retort.

“Cat got your tongue? You didn’t even deny it when I accused you,” Seokjin laughs. He claps his hands jovially, acting as though he’s enjoying a show at the circus. Given your performance tonight, that statement isn’t all that far from reality.

“I don’t need to defend myself from you,” you say, puffing your cheeks indignantly. “I just… think he looks handsome. Is that illegal or something?”

“Certainly not. Though, you might want to dial down the pining a teensy bit,” he singsongs. “That’s how I found you in the first place. I sensed your pining from a mile away and came as soon as I could!”

“I wasn’t pining!” you exclaim. “I was just… admiring the plant beside him.”

“Right, sure,” Seokjin says, arching an eyebrow in challenge. You feel your hackles rising at his smug expression, your ‘Seokjin-is-about-to-ruin-your-life’ alarm ringing in your ears. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I brought you over there to say hello? After all, my boyfriend is over there and as much as I enjoy pestering you, I also want to be with him very much.”

You whistle lowly, impressed. “Wow, that’s actually kind of sweet of you.”

“Yes, I know. Kim Seokjin’s heart grew three sizes that day, yada yada yada.” Seokjin says sarcastically, but his lovesick smile ruins the effect. When he opens his mouth once more, the mirage instantly disappears. “But you would understand if you saw how much he’s packing—”

“Shut up, I didn’t ask—”

“Fine, then let’s ask the man himself! Besides, you know you’re being ridiculous, right?” Seokjin tuts, annoyed. He fixes you with a glare, making you feel like a scolded child. “It’s just Yoongi. You and I both know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and probably would love to see you after so long.”

You wave your hands around helplessly, almost sloshing your drink onto a nearby bystander. After muttering a meek apology at your harried classmate, you turn back to Seokjin with a defeated sigh.

You know that he’s right, and you absolutely hate him for it. “Jinnie, I’m a mess! I can hardly think with Yoongi standing meters away from me, much less if he were to stand right in front of me! I’m just going to embarrass myself,” you lament, holding your head in your hand.

“That’s true. You will definitely embarrass yourself,” Seokjin hums, nodding sagely. He shrugs his shoulders. “All the more reason we should do it. Relax, I’ll be your wingman like old times! All we have to do is remind him of all the fantastic, mind-blowing coitus you had in your youth and he’ll be a goner for sure.”

“If by goner, you mean he’ll be gone from my life permanently this time, then you’re right,” you groan. You have a half a mind to dump the remainder of your disgusting punch all over his expensive Bottega Veneta coat, though you also don’t want to spend the next three months receiving packaged turds from Seokjin in your mailbox. “Please, just let me suffer in silence for the remainder of the night, okay? Is that really too much to ask?”

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look of who’s coming over to say hello!”

Swiveling around, you see that your intuition is right: Yoongi and Hoseok are swiftly making their way through the crowd, one of them appearing to be more enthusiastic than the other. You swallow thickly, your palms growing damp as they get closer to where the two of you stand.

"Seokjin, we gotta go!" you hiss, but your panic goes largely ignored as your best friend leaves you to envelop his lover in a dramatic embrace.

The two men exchange teary and heartfelt touches, acting as if they had been separated by years of war instead of the meager minutes they had spent apart to greet their long-time friends.

"My honeybunch! Oh, how I've missed you so much!" Seokjin cries, nuzzling his nose into Hoseok's neck. You might have mistaken him for a vampire with how aggressively he sniffs Hoseok's skin. Had Seokjin been 5% more unhinged, you do not doubt that he might have started suckling on his boyfriend like a leech.

"Oh, hyung. It's barely been an hour, but why does it feel like it has been forever?" Hoseok sighs forlornly, jaw clenching as though he's in pain. He croaks out a sob, lifting Seokjin in the air and spinning him around. "My love, let us never part again!"

You take a few steps away from them, trying to make it apparent to all the bewildered onlookers that you have nothing to do with homosexual Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

"What kind of shitty production is this? I want my money back," you murmur, fake-gagging behind the two of them. The lovesick fools pay no mind to your disgust; in fact, they seem to relish in it. Their efforts double, their theatrical kissy-smoochy sound effects causing goosebumps to form on your arms. "Seriously, I've had enough of this and I've only been forced to witness it for two seconds."

"Tell me about it," says a voice to your left. Startled, you nearly let out a shocked gasp when you realize that Yoongi had found his way by your side, his own disgusted gaze fixed on the bumbling buffoons still lost in their world. He glances at you for a second, quirking his lips into a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

In just six words, Min Yoongi manages to make time grind to a halt. You gape at him, your brain ceasing in function. It takes you a full minute to realize that the man standing beside you is not a figment of your imagination. You had been so caught up in the absurdity of the situation that for a moment you had forgotten that Yoongi is a real person.

It's Yoongi, your first love. The person you haven't seen or spoken to in years. The man who has haunted your dreams for over a decade. He's standing right beside you, and he's smiling at you. He's here, he's hot, and he's saying hello.

Like the incredibly eloquent and profound person that you are, you reply: "Yellow!"

You had meant to say "Yoongi, hello!" like a normal person, but your brain had amalgamated your words during its rebooting process. And so, you are left standing there silently, frozen by your embarrassment. You swear you can hear a pin drop as you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

Unfortunately for you, the floor remains painfully tangible beneath your feet, forcing you to clear your throat and expound on your mystifying exclamation. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-what I meant to say is, uh," you stammer, your cheeks heating up to an alarming degree. "Those yellow streamers are pretty tacky, don't you think?"

Nice one. In terms of comebacks, you would personally give yourself a C for effort. (Note: C stands for "Can I please shove a fist up my ass and crabwalk the fuck out of here?")

Yoongi contemplates the tacky decorations in question, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. They pretty much look like the stuff we'd make in elementary school during Arts and Crafts." He points to your mutual friends, grimacing in annoyance. "Them, on the other hand? No child should ever come into contact with those heathens."

"You're right," you snort, shaking your head.

There is a long and awkward pause. Yoongi clears his throat, swaying from side to side while staring at his shoes. You aren't any better, twiddling your thumbs as you will your cheeks to stop flushing. Your senses are practically screaming at you to run away and hide forever, but your limbs feel disjointed from the rest of you.

It's like we're at the zoo on a date and the monkeys won't stop fucking each other, your mind unhelpfully supplies, offering you an image that will permanently make its home on the backs of your eyelids.

Desperate to break the silence, eventually you say, "Hey, Yoongi—"

Right at the same time, Yoongi says, "Hey, Y/N—"

Another pause, but this one is slightly less tense. The two of you share a nervous laugh, though yours sounds a little bit more hysterical. You motion for him to speak first.

"I, uh... wanted to say that you look great. Yeah. Like, you haven't aged a day at all. N-not to say that I don't think you've matured or..." Yoongi stumbles over his words, his voice cracking.

Instead of feeling relieved that he's just as nervous as you, his anxiety only exacerbates your own. There's a reason you have never been good at public speaking, and this is a good example of why:

"No! I get what you mean, don't worry about it," you laugh, on the verge of a mental breakdown. What the fuck is this conversation, even? "You look exactly the same too. Umm... Of course, except for the, uh, hair?"

"Oh, you mean the gray hairs?"

"No, no! Of course not! I m-meant your hair looks really hot—I mean good! It looks GOOD," you repeat, frantically emphasizing the last bit. You had instinctively panicked, your voice rising in pitch.  If your cheeks weren't flaming hot already, then they're definitely redder than Seokjin's ass after a Friday night of fun.

The apples of Yoongi's cheek match your own flustered state, though you can imagine that you’re probably at least a hundred times worse. “Well, thank you. I was actually feeling self-conscious about my hair, so hearing that from you is really… nice,” he says, brushing his hair shyly. “I’m kinda done with bright colored hair for now, so seeing my hair in its natural state is still kind of weird.”

“I seriously doubt that Y/N was talking about your hair color, Yoongi,” Hoseok interjects, magically reappearing behind you when you don’t notice. You flinch in surprise, causing him to let out a hearty chuckle at your jumpiness. It seems that today is “Let’s scare the living shit out of Y/N” day with how many people have crept up on you in just one night.

Beside him, Seokjin looks like a bomb ready to explode, his fist jammed up his mouth to keep his guffaws from slipping out. “God, this is even better than the cringe compilations I watch on Youtube,” he wheezes, wiping a stray tear.

“Don’t be so mean to them, hyung! Don’t mind him,” Hoseok says to you, bowing apologetically. He smiles cherubically at Yoongi. “See, Yoongi? I told you that Y/N is even hotter up close!”

“God, fucking kill me,” you hear Yoongi groan.

“So, have you guys caught up yet, or have you just been fumbling around each other like a couple of horny teenagers?” Seokjin snickers, narrowly avoiding your heel stomping his foot.

“We’ve only just said hello. Leave us alone, jackass,” you huff.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, Hoseok and I can go on our merry ways if you wish—”

“Yoongi! Did you tell Y/N about your work back in Seoul? I bet she’d love to hear about it,” Hoseok interrupts smoothly, saving you from further embarrassment (courtesy of his infuriating goblin of a boyfriend.)

You blink in surprise, turning to the man in question. “You live in Seoul now? Did you move there after finishing university?” you ask.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, clearing his throat. He’s permanently pink at this point, not that you mind in the slightest. He always did have the cutest blush (and once upon a time, you used to love teasing him about it.) “I sort of dropped out of university early. Decided it wasn’t really my thing, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Yoongi. You were a fantastic student. I’m sure Y/N remembers how smart you are,” Hoseok says, winking inconspicuously at you.

You force out a laugh in response. You know perfectly well what he was trying to do; Hoseok isn’t slick in the slightest, though you do admit that you are intrigued to find out what Yoongi had done over the years.

It isn’t like you haven’t been keeping tabs on him. In your defense, it’s hard to stay away from news about Yoongi when he’s such a big deal. So what if you’ve watched a couple of his interviews and streamed all of his songs? He’s always been talented with music, and all the radio shows seem to agree. You couldn’t get away from him if you tried (and it’s not like you were trying very hard, anyway.)

Yoongi shrugs, rubbing his neck bashfully. “E-either way, I decided to tough it out, you know? Follow my dreams and all that, even if it nearly killed me.”

“And now, he’s working in a famous idol company as one of their head producers,” Hoseok finishes for him, chest puffing up in pride. He slaps his best friend on the back, not noticing that he had inadvertently caused Yoongi's spine to cave in from his strength. “Yoongi is so cool, and humble too! He’s been working behind the scenes for a bunch of big names and never got greedy for attention even though he totally deserves it.”

“Damn, so no street cred? Bit schewpid, innit? Imagine all the chicks you could’ve landed, bruv!” Seokjin says, imitating a terrible British accent. You make a move to hit him in the groin, but for once, Hoseok beats you to the punch.

“Nope! Yoongi-chi is super single, aren’t you?” Hoseok says with a sweet grin, ignoring the pained groans of his lover on the floor.

“No need to rub it in, Seok-ah,” Yoongi grumbles defensively. He coughs into his fist, grinding his foot into the floor. He throws a glance your way. “Just been… too busy, I guess.”

From the floor, Seokjin holds up a hand, grasping at Hoseok’s pant leg to hoist himself up. “What a coincidence. Y/N is super single too. In fact, her pussy is so dry that there’d be no chance for any yeast infections to develop—WAIT, DON’T HIT ME AGAIN I PROMISE I’LL BEHAVE!” Seokjin is on his knees, holding his arms up in surrender as Hoseok’s boot is about to connect with his stomach.

“I know I said I was into BDSM, but not like this!” Seokjin says, faking a sob.

“Then behave, darling,” Hoseok replies, eyes lighting dangerously. When he returns his attention to you, you and Yoongi back away instinctively. “Sorry about him. We have an… arrangement,” he says, waving his hands vaguely.

“Understood,” you both say, not understanding but also not wanting to.

Seokjin manages to straighten up eventually, his skin slightly paler than it was before. “A-as I was saying,” he exhales, still gingerly cupping his crotch. “Y/N has been single for so long, but I don’t blame her. Not after that awful disaster of a boyfriend, right? God, Sungjae fucking sucked ass, and not even in the sexy way.”

“Um, yeah…” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s eyes trained on you, but you’re not confident enough to know that you can keep your face neutral.

With your gaze averted, you don’t notice the way Yoongi’s posture tenses. “Is that so,” he says carefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoseok says. You can hear the genuine sadness in his tone, and you chance a peek at him. He pats your shoulder gently, giving you a soft smile. “Honestly, I feel you. I’ve definitely been there, done that. That’s why I’m grateful for Seokjin-hyung, believe it or not. He’s been really good for me.”

“Hah, I told you I’m a good person!” Seokjin says. Again, he goes ignored.

“It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge,” you say, shrugging. You can still feel Yoongi’s persistent gaze on the side of your head like a brand. You’re kind of afraid to see what sort of expression he has despite the curiosity burning inside of you.

You are still in the middle of debating if it’s worth explaining or not (and to a lesser extent, why you feel like you need to explain yourself to anyone), everyone’s attention is caught by the onslaught of waiters bringing in a fresh batch of food to the buffet. Your stomach growls in response, and you are reminded of the fact that you haven’t eaten since breakfast in preparation for tonight’s event.

“Hold that thought, Y/N,” Hoseok says, holding up a finger. “Hyung! I saw a platter of tuna belly and I know that shit is gonna disappear in two seconds. Let’s head out!” He tugs Seokjin in a hurry, the elder’s gangly legs flying about as he trips over himself to keep up. Seokjin yelps and hollers for him to slow down, but the hangry Hoseok train stops for no one. They run off, leaving Hoseok-and-Seokjin-shaped dust clouds in their wakes.

“Wow,” Yoongi says, dumbfounded. “Did we just get ditched by our two self-proclaimed best friends in the world?”

You nod, equally dumbfounded. “I guess we did.”

He shakes his head. “Fucking traitors.”

And just like that, the conversation dies.

Without your friends acting as buffers, the pair of you return to your painfully awkward states. You rack your brain for a conversation topic, anything to keep the tension at bay. You don’t feel nearly comfortable enough to ask him about his love life, even though you want nothing more than to shake the details right out of him. For perfectly sane reasons, of course.

Lucky for you, Yoongi thinks of a solution. “Um, I guess we should go grab our food as well? I’m assuming we’ll be sitting together since our friends are... you know. Unless you don’t want to, then that’s also perfectly fine with me. I can find somewhere else to sit.”

“I’d love to sit with you,” you say, cringing at your choice of words. Love to? What are you, desperate?! your brain screeches at you, and you mentally beat yourself in the coochie.

Deep down, you know that you’re overreacting, but you can’t help acting like a blushy teenager talking to your crush when you’re around Yoongi. It’s almost as if you’ve reverted to your high school days, back when you’d both started to notice your feelings for each other and the steady flow of butterflies erupting in your stomach had felt less like a burden and more like a revelation.

After tossing your disgusting drink into a nearby bin, you and Yoongi line up behind the rest of your classmates for the buffet, the scene reminiscent of having lunch at your old high school cafeteria. You’re still mildly distracted by Yoongi’s proximity, not looking at what food you were getting and randomly scooping and hoping you don’t dislike all of them.

From the corner of your eye, you notice that Yoongi’s plate is steadily piling up, probably with enough food to feed two people. You’ve never known Yoongi to be much of a heavy eater, but you suppose that free food is still free food at the end of the day.

“So,” Yoongi says after a beat. He pulls you from your trance, and you catch the small smile on his face that tells you that he figured you had been distracted. “How is Jungkook, by the way? He graduated from university a year ago or something, right?”

You pause, your hand stilling on the metal tongs. “How did you know he graduated last year?”

He shrugs. “Well, assuming that he didn’t take any gap years, I did the math and figured he should be at the age where he’s looking for a job.” He turns to you with a sly grin. “Plus, I’m still his friend on Facebook.”

“That’s surprising,” you comment. You backtrack a little, “And I mean it’s surprising in the sense that… All his posts are reshares from dank meme pages and I thought you wouldn’t be into that.”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m not. But… it’s nice to know how things are back home, I guess.”

Do you wonder about me, too? you think, but you internally shake your head. But why would he? He doesn’t owe you anything.

“And your dad? I heard he got hip surgery last fall,” Yoongi says.

“Wait, Jungkook has been posting about our dad’s surgery on his Facebook?”

“Oh! No, not exactly.” Yoongi clears his throat, suddenly nervous. He heaps a big portion of kimchi, some of it staining his sleeve. “I… called him a few days ago, to catch up.”

You’re staring at him, and you dimly register the people lined up behind you huffing impatiently. “You… called him? You have his cell number, too?”

“No, I just… happen to still have your home telephone number memorized and hoped that you guys hadn’t moved,” he says, a little guiltily.

You’re silent for a moment, thoughtlessly scooping more bean sprouts onto your plate than any sane person would be comfortable eating. The two of you inch along the buffet display as you attempt to process his sudden confession.

On one hand, you’re slightly betrayed that your own brother hadn’t thought to mention that your ex had called him, but on the other hand, what would you have done if he did? Ask if you could say hello? The Y/N from last month probably would have laughed if she had known that Min Yoongi still cared enough to call and check on her family, much less have her landline memorized even after all these years.

He still cared.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, your heart skips a beat at the thought. You cradle a hand to your chest, urging your nerves to quell. Keep it together, you beg your stupid, naive heart. You can survive one night without falling in love again, can’t you?

...can you?

“I…” you stammer. You swallow thickly, desperate for something to say, anything to stop your mind from going in the wrong direction. “They miss you, you know? You have no idea how many times my parents ask if you’re coming home for Christmas, or—I don’t know.”

“Yeah, my parents are the same. They always wanna know if I’m coming home for the holidays, and they,” he hesitates, swallowing thickly, “They always ask about you, too.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you mutter lamely. Your cheeks feel like they’ve been lit on fire the moment you got here, and you haven’t even visited the bar yet.

You finally make it to the end of the long buffet table where there is a large chocolate fountain just begging for you to ravage if only your stomach wasn’t besieged by butterflies. Yoongi glances at you, his own hands too full to get any desserts, but he still pauses as if he’s waiting for you. When you make it apparent you aren’t interested in the mouthwatering cakes and pastries (a big fat lie, but you also don’t want to vomit in front of him and your hundreds of schoolmates), he raises a brow as though he’s surprised.

“What? I’m not that much of a sweet tooth,” you scoff.

“This is coming from the girl who broke into her little brother’s piggy bank to buy some ice cream from a passing street vendor?” he teases.

“That’s the old me. Now, I make enough money to buy my own sweets,” you say smugly.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he looked endeared.

The pair of you search for Hoseok and Seokjin, only to find that the couple had somehow found a table for all of you somewhere near the back. With one last longing glance at the wondrous chocolate fountain, you walk away with Yoongi in tow. You have to push through throngs of people, a few old familiar faces stopping to say hello before they notice the precarious situation on Yoongi’s plate and let you through. You wave at them, promising to greet them later before turning to Yoongi.

“Isn’t it kind of weird to see all these people again? Not gonna lie, it’s almost hard to recognize a few of them.” You note some of the crazy hair colors and drastic fashion choices that you never thought you’d see a decade ago. An even stranger sight, however, is the occasional schoolmates with little ones attached to their hips. You recognize one of the new parents, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Wait, is that Seulgi? And is that her—”

“Her son? Jesus Christ,” Yoongi mutters, equally as bewildered as you. “Damn, I did not expect her of all people to be one of the first to have a kid. I’d always thought it’d be Sooyoung.”

You nod in agreement. You observe the little boy tug roughly at her skirt, his tiny fists making grabbing motions at the cookies on her plate. “Yeah. I always thought I’d have a kid before Seulgi, at least. What a surprise.”

You speak before you think, and it takes longer than it should have for you to realize your mistake. By then, Yoongi’s expression had already morphed into astonishment, his eyes bugging out as he chokes on his spit.

Your cheeks are burning, your mouth opening and closing as pure panic seizes you. You cannot believe that you just said that! No fucking way! Did you eat lube this morning or something? Why are words just spilling out of your mouth at an unprecedented rate?! You’re begging your brain to come up with something, anything, to control the damage, but alas your thoughts remain resolutely frozen.

If aliens were to choose to study the human race right now, they’d be sorely disappointed to find the lack of intelligent lifeforms. No complex thoughts going on over here! Not one goddamn neuron firing in this bitch!

“O-oh, well, that’s…” he trails off. He clears his throat, his jaw clenched as he awkwardly tries to feign composure. “I didn’t know you were, um, interested? Well, n-not that I think you were averse to the idea of having kids, since I remember you mentioning it when we were, um,” he pauses, struggling to find a word other than dating, or together, or in love, or not painstakingly careful around each other, like every conversation topic was a fucking minefield.

“Younger?” you supply. A safe, neutral word. Yay for you! You deserve a snack from your animal care keeper right about now.

“Right,” he nods. He looks down at his shoes, revealing his flushed neck. He’s frustratingly adorable like this, but it does nothing except distract you. “Were you, um, planning on having a kid with your ex-boyfriend? Before you broke up?”

Ex-boyfriend? Why is he bringing him up all of a sudden? You stare at him in confusion for half a second before realization strikes you. Thankfully (or unthankfully), it seems that Yoongi misunderstands the implication behind your words and has taken your little slip-up the wrong way. For once, you are so thankful that Yoongi almost failed Math during the 10th grade and never learned to put two and two together.

“Definitely not,” you bark out a laugh, but it sounds incredibly forced, even to your own ears. You stare at the plate of food in your hands, a wave of unpleasant memories washing over you. “I doubt he’d ever want kids, anyway. Seokjin used to make fun of him and call him the world’s biggest toddler.”

Yoongi winces, his brow furrowing. “How long were you together?”

“Like, two years?” You shrug. “It felt longer, to be honest. Even if we dated for so long, I could never imagine myself having a family with him,” you say.

It was almost the truth, but not quite. While your ex-boyfriend had undoubtedly been a pain in your ass, he wasn’t completely bad, especially in the beginning. You had enough self-respect that you would have ended the relationship earlier if he didn’t have any redeeming qualities. The main problem was that he had a tough act to follow, and you don’t think any man on earth would be able to live up to your lofty expectations at this point, not when you’d constantly be comparing everyone to—

Yoongi speaks up again. “Seokjin seems to really dislike him. Was he really that bad?”

“Seokjin has never really liked any of my past flings,” you admit, rolling your eyes. (You fail to mention that Yoongi has always been the only exception.) “Despite his own disgustingly high body count, I can’t say he was wrong. Sungjae was a self-centered prick who never gave me the time of day. Hell, I was almost thankful when I caught him cheating. It was the final push I needed.”

Even though it’s been so long, the pain of seeing your ex-boyfriend locking lips with a stranger he had randomly picked up from the street still throbs inside of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly sad or surprised to find out, but you’d always been a bit sensitive to people who kept secrets from you. Plus, it kinda sucked to know that they had fucked on your favorite Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Fucking bastard. If I ever saw him in person, I’d definitely kick his nuts ‘til he’s left with a concave crotch,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

You laugh. You have to confess that the mental image is satisfying. “You don’t even know what he looks like though!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Seokjin would tell me if I asked,” he huffs. He mutters something else after, but his volume drops to a whisper and you have to step closer to properly hear him.

“What? Sorry, I missed that,” you say, but you could have sworn he said something like “I wouldn’t have done that if it were me” but you couldn’t be completely sure.

“N-nothing,” he stutters, waving off your confusion. He tacks on a smile, but you can tell that he must have been embarrassed by whatever he’d said. If it was anything like what you thought he’d said, then you could understand. It wasn’t like he was wrong, anyway.

He makes a move to rub the back of his neck, but he greatly underestimates the weight of his platter and nearly drops everything. Something deep inside of you kicks in, and your body instinctively moves to hold his plate with your free hand, saving him from a very messy situation. However, that also means that your hands are now touching each other, your fingertips grazing his knuckles.

Instead of letting him go like a normal person, your ape brain makes the first move (as per usual).

“Your hands are still cold,” you say dumbly. You had wanted to say more, like “your hands are still as cold as they were from when we were younger,” but bringing up your past together, even for something so harmless, still feels taboo. You keep your hands where they are, your eyes locked on his. It feels like you’re in the middle of a dramatic TV show while I Will Go To You by Ailee plays in the background. You can almost imagine the numerous ads for random Korean cosmetic products framing the two of you in slow motion.

Yoongi chuckles, reluctantly pulling away from you. You already miss the sensation of his skin on yours. “I guess some things never change, huh?” he says, wavering slightly. He stares at you for another moment before shaking his head, as though he’s pushing away some unwelcome thoughts. He turns away, leaving you behind to make his way to your table.

Despite the unbidden emotions bubbling up your throat and threatening to spill over, you have no choice but to follow.

At the table, Seokjin and Hoseok speak mutely with each other, though the exaggerated expressions on both their faces tell you that they had been in the middle of an argument. When Yoongi takes his place beside Hoseok, the couple pauses in their bickering to greet you.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi’s overflowing plate. “Dude. I know I teased you about being a skinny twig a while ago, but I wasn’t implying that you gorge yourself.”

Yoongi jolts in surprise before staring back at his plate. Weirdly enough, he looks just as shocked as Hoseok to find the amount of food he had gotten, as though he hadn’t even noticed.

Perhaps he was just as distracted as you had been? you think, staring at your own meager pickings. Oops, you definitely didn’t get enough food to fill your ravenous appetite.

“That’s fine. I can share with you guys,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin peers at your plate, smirking knowingly. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Y/N would love to get some of your food. It seems like the two of you either over or underestimated how much you’d eat.”

“Aww, cute!” Hoseok coos, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “You still have the habit of getting food for her. That’s so sweet that you still remember that about her!”

You had been in the middle of taking a swig of your water, but Hoseok’s comment nearly causes it to spew out from your nose. You cough harshly, beating your chest as your nose burns, among other things.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi scolds. He hits his friend on the shoulder, but Hoseok’s giggles refuse to stop.

“Oh shit, you’re totally right! Remember all those times when either one of us was forced to third-wheel with them?” Seokjin guffaws. “Y/N always orders something gross whenever we eat out together, and Yoongi ends up having to share half of his food with her when she starts moping.”

“I did not mope!” you retort vehemently.

“You kind of did,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, but you catch him this time.

You cross your arms, scowling. “Did not!”

Yoongi covers his mouth to fake a cough, but you can tell he’s smiling from how his eyes start to crinkle.

“You guys are so cute,” Hoseok sighs, squeezing Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi paws at him weakly, but you know that he enjoys skinship too much to push his friend away.  Still, he pouts cutely, his cheeks puffing up like a pastry.

“Anyway, why were you guys arguing a while ago?” Yoongi asks, changing the subject. “Seokjin-hyung is kinda red in the face.”

“Oh, we weren’t really arguing. Hyung had gotten some wine from the bar but he forgot to get me some,” Hoseok says. He glares sharply at Seokjin. “Bastard.”

“You just said we weren’t fighting!” Seokjin whines. He stands up, raising his arms in surrender. “But fine! I’ll go get your damn wine,” he sulks, groaning when he stretches his back and a few worrisome pops resound from his joints.

“Damn, hyung. I know I told you that I hope you grow up well when we were kids, but I didn’t think you’d take it that literally,” Yoongi jokes, earning a sharp laugh from you. Yoongi glances at you then, visibly proud when he catches the wide grin on your face.

Seokjin gasps, offended. “I am not old! I’m literally a year older than you guys! And here I was, about to get you both drinks as well! It sucks to be the nice one in a friend group,” he sniffs.

“Yes, we are eternally grateful for your service,” Hoseok says sarcastically. “Oh, and remember to get some drinks for Y/N and Yoongi-chi too!” Hoseok adds, slamming his palm on Seokjin’s sore back.

Seokjin yelps, before biting his lip. “Owwie, that hurt,” he moans, winking salaciously.

As the closest person to him, you make it your right to jam your heeled foot onto his gelatinous and push away with a shout of disgust. “Leave, wench!” you snarl, but you’re unfortunately drowned out by his cackling. Even so, he does make his leave, affording your table some level of peace.

“So,” Hoseok starts, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He cradles his chin with his hands, smiling innocuously at the two of you. “How’s it goin’? Are you both having fun?” he says, laced with meaning.

Ah, you had forgotten; peace was never an option.

Though he is undoubtedly less annoying than Seokjin, you still don’t trust the way he’s staring at you, like he’s waiting for one of you to jump into the other’s lap and recreate his favorite porn scene.

(A terrible thought to have, especially when you’d probably be as begrudging as you should be if you were swayed sufficiently.)

“It’s going fine, thank you very much,” Yoongi responds, giving his best friend a stern look.

You nod wordlessly, unable to trust yourself to keep from stammering and making your frayed nerves apparent (if they aren’t already.) You grab your glass and busy yourself with your drink to delay answering.

You don’t notice that you had taken Yoongi’s cup by accident until you’ve already gulped a third of his water, dropping it with a loud clunk. “Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to drink from yours,” you say sheepishly.

Yoongi smiles at your concern. “No worries. It’s just a cup.”

“Sharing cups too? Damn, what happened while Seokjin and I were away?” Hoseok laughs. Yoongi flicks him lightly on the wrist in retaliation.

“It’s just a cup,” he repeats before turning to you. “Sorry, I think he’s a bit drunk.”

“Haven’t had a single drop of alcohol but whatever,” Hoseok says, shoveling a large piece of tuna belly into his mouth.

The sight of him eating reminds you of your own hunger, your food slightly colder now after talking to Yoongi and your friends for so long. You take a spoonful of chicken, the taste not terrible but not as good as you would like. Your face must give your disappointment away because you hear Yoongi chuckling beside you.

“Bad food again? Guess you really are the same,” Yoongi says, low enough that Hoseok wouldn’t hear. He pushes his plate towards you, carefully nudging some of his bulgogi onto yours. “This tastes kind of sweet, so I’m not really into it. But you prefer it sweeter right?”

All you can do is nod in agreement, watching as he piles your plate with his food. His sleeves, which had already been stained previously by some stray bits of kimchi, become even more saturated with sauces and oils. Now that you see it up close, his sleeves seem a bit too long for him, his palms half covered like sweater paws.  

Without thinking too hard, you place your hands over Yoongi’s wrists, his entire body freezing as he waits for what you will do. Gently, as though you’re approaching a frightened kitten, you fold his sleeves until they’re no longer dangling into his food. The gesture is more intimate than you had intended, his proximity allowing you to smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne.

Paco Rabanne, your mind reminds you. Of course.

You pull away, trying your best to appear as unfazed as possible. You clench your hands and dig your nails into your skin to keep them from trembling. “If I’m the same, you’re no better. You always used to forget to pull back your sleeves before eating.”

After a beat, Yoongi returns from his stupor, licking his lips. “My hands were cold,” he explains.

“I know.” You lick your lips too, suddenly parched despite all the water you have drunk.

A forgotten treasure trove of memories resurrects inside of you, things that you had thought had been buried too deep for you to find again. You are filled with this odd feeling, an awareness. An old wound has resurfaced, one that you thought had healed long ago.

That wound throbs, still.

It’s so strange, being with him like this. A piece of your past that has come to your present, both the same and different as you remember. He knows parts of you that no one else will, as do you with him. But those parts were only ever supposed to stay buried: memories, after all, aren’t supposed to be tangible.

And yet, here he stands: real, alive, close.

It leaves you feeling emptier than before.

The atmosphere grows somber after that, neither of you offering much to the conversation. Hoseok is more than happy to pick up the slack, filling the stark silence along with the occasional hums from Yoongi. When Seokjin returns, he makes no note of the change in mood and focuses more on eating and talking with his partner. It allows the two of you to remain deep in thought.

You are pushing your remaining bits of food around your plate when the soft instrumental music playing on the overhead speaker stops abruptly, and the sound of a microphone being tapped prompts everyone to turn to the front of the ballroom. The host of the event announces that the next part of the reunion will begin shortly and encourages all the performers to head to the sound booth to prepare. A couple of your schoolmates rise from their seats, most of whom were the students you remembered being part of choir or band.

You half-expect Yoongi to stand up as well, but he stays rooted to the spot. Apparently, Hoseok is wondering the same thing.

“Yoongi? Didn’t you say that the organizers asked you to perform some of your songs?” Hoseok questions.

“They did.”

“But?”

Yoongi brings his fingers to his teeth, biting on them anxiously. Your hand makes a move to pull them away, but you think better of it. No need to supply your friends with more teasing ammunition. “But I changed my mind last minute. I felt kind of embarrassed to be performing my own songs. I’m more of a producer, not a performer.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yoongi. You’re poggers, as the kids like to say,” Seokjin pipes up.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but he’s right. A lot of people like your music and think you’re a great performer,” you assure him. “And I like your music, too,” you add shyly.

Yoongi’s hand drops from his mouth, eyes glittering with disbelief. He looks like he wants to disagree with you, but eventually decides to just smile in gratitude. “I didn’t know you listened to my music,” he says quietly.

Before you can reply, Seokjin chooses to interrupt with his migraine-inducing cackle and ruin the moment (as he is prone to do.) “Oh bitch! If you only knew how much this girl loves your music. She even buys your physical CDs AND collects your photocards.”

“I do not!” You scream, flinging a piece of bread at his head. You refuse to peek at Yoongi.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I collect his photocards too. Wanna trade sometime? I’m missing the one when he still had mint hair,” Hoseok giggles.

“Will the two of you stop? God, it’s like you both had been planning to embarrass us as much as possible,” Yoongi exclaims, incensed.

When neither of them responds, you and Yoongi whip your heads towards them only to find two self-satisfied, smirking shitheads.

“Why watch reality shows when you can make your own?” Seokjin says in lieu of an answer, pointing finger guns. He blows you a kiss with a wink.

You clutch your chest, pretending to wince in pain. “Augh! Poison damage!”

Seokjin scoffs. “Swagever, man. You’re just mad because you’re angry,” he retorts, sticking out his tongue.

While you were occupied bickering with Seokjin, you had not seen that one of your old schoolmates had invited herself to your table. She sandwiches herself in the space between you and Yoongi, bumping you roughly enough to topple you out of your chair.

“What the fuck?” you yelp in surprise, holding onto the table to balance yourself. After straightening back into your seat, you find that your view of the world has become obscured by asscheeks the size of beachballs.

“Hi Yoongi,” she purrs seductively. Or at least, what she thinks is seductive. To you, her voice sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

“Hello?” Yoongi says, but it comes out sounding more like a question. It’s clear that he doesn’t remember her name, as he searches your eyes for help. You shrug unhelpfully; you deleted almost all the names of everyone that you had gone to school with right after graduation. Besides, her horrendous plastic surgery makes it even twice as hard to discern her identity.

“Hi Hyejin,” Hoseok speaks up, answering your unspoken question. Oh, right. The name does ring a bell, somewhat. You don’t recall her looking like a cartoon character before, but you suppose beauty standards are meant to be subjective. Maybe she wanted to look like a One Piece character.

Hyejin purses her lips into a tight smile but doesn’t return his greeting. She turns back to Yoongi, bending forward until her boobs are practically smooshed against his face. You wonder idly if stabbing her chest with your chopsticks would cause them to burst like a balloon, or perhaps drain like a puss-filled pimple. Both, you surmise, would be very entertaining to watch.

“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, hm? I heard you’ve been very busy ever since we graduated from high school,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“Uh, yeah? Some of us have jobs,” he says, passively dissing her. You let out a strangled laugh, causing Hyejin to aim a glare back at you. You bring your (his) cup of water to your lips, feigning innocence.

Hyejin rolls her eyes. “Right. But I meant that you’ve become a real star back in Seoul! I didn’t know you were such a musical prodigy!”

“I’m really not. I just work hard,” he shrugs. He’s visibly uncomfortable, especially since Hyejin was pretty much breathing the same air as him. Every time he leans away from her, she takes it as an invitation to come closer. He is nearly lying horizontally at this point, his back parallel with the floor.

“Humble as well as handsome? My, my. I didn’t think you’d be such a charmer,” she laughs, saccharine sweet. She twirls her dyed brown hair with her perfectly manicured acrylic nails. You rub at the goosebumps forming on your arms, cringing at the phantom sensation of her nails digging into your skin.

“Just spit it out. What the hell do you want so you can leave,” Seokjin interjects. Everything about his demeanor says calm and collected, but the way he presses his lips into a thin line says otherwise. You can sense the air dropping in temperature, despite the embers burning behind his eyes.

“I came over here to ask if Yoongi could give me his autograph, that’s all. I am his biggest fan, after all,” she sulks. She winks at him for extra measure. “And maybe his number too? I’d love to discuss your music with you sometime!”

“Oh, um. That’s—” he cuts off, hesitant to answer. He tugs at his ears nervously, exchanging subtly alarmed glances with you.

You remember that signal very distinctly; it’s a distress call that he would do whenever he needed a way out. He used to do it a lot when you were at social gatherings, especially when people would trap him in boring or awkward conversations. He never did like socializing with people outside his circle, but he was often dragged to parties by his more extroverted friends.

He might be hot as hell with his stylish clothes and jaw-dropping undercut, but he’s still awkward as hell around strangers. When the universe created him, they made sure to keep everything in balance. If they hadn’t been fair, you certainly would’ve died much earlier.

“Yoongi, don’t you have spare CDs of your music?” you quip, dragging Hyejin’s attention onto you. Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, suspicious.

“I do?” He stares at you blankly.

You resist hitting your forehead in exasperation. “Yes, Yoongi. Remember? You left a couple of them in my car.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up in understanding. “Oh, right! I left my CDs. In your car. That we drove here. Together. We came here. Together. Yes, correct.”

From your periphery, you can sense Hoseok barely holding onto his sanity after witnessing that pitiful display. Who can blame him when Yoongi’s infamously terrible acting skills are having their first appearance in over ten years? How he managed to pass Drama class is still a mystery to this day.

“Yup,” you say, popping your p.  You give Hyejin a winsome smile, your hands folded neatly on your lap. You can almost see the steam blowing out of her ears. It fills you with delicious satisfaction. “Why don’t Yoongi and I go get them so he can sign one?”

If her eyes had been made of lasers, you’d be a cauterized mess jumble of organs by now. Can’t say you would regret it either way.

“How kind of you.” She sneers. “Also, I wasn’t aware that you two were still a thing.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were required to inform you of anything,” you retort placidly. You plaster on your fakest grin. “Now, if you can please move your fat ass—I mean, if you can please move out of the way so I can go to my car...” you trail off, gesturing for her to leave.

After a few more indignant sputters on her end, she eventually makes her exit. She throws a couple of poisonous glares, but they go largely ignored by you and your friends. With her gone, you feel as though you can finally breathe fresh air again.

“Great stuff, Y/N! Congrats on winning your first bitch-off,” Seokjin chirps, back to his usual self. You roll your eyes at his antics but smile nonetheless.

“Thanks. I learned from the best.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “So, are we still gonna go?” He looks back and forth from her to you. “Just so we can pretend you actually have my albums in your car?”

“Trust me, Yoongi-chi. She does have your albums in her car.” Seokjin titters. “I wasn’t kidding about the photocard collection.”

“Ignore him. And yes, I do have your albums. I listen to them in my car from time to time,” you say, attempting nonchalance. “I’d hate to give them away to that bitch, but if it keeps her away...”

Away from you is left unsaid, but it’s heavily implied.

(No, you aren’t jealous. You’re above jealousy. It’s not like that bitch would ever have a chance with him anyway, unlike you—!

Woah there, cowgirl. Let’s stay on the right path. Don’t want your heart getting chewed up and spat back out all over again, do you?)

“I’ll just mail you a new one. Signed, if you want. You can probably sell it on eBay or whatever.” He tries to say it like a joke, but his brow is too furrowed to be convincing. (You want to kiss him there and make it go away.)

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so all you do is nod mutely. You stand up and Yoongi follows suit.

“We’ll be right back. If she comes back before then, tell her to scram,” you tell Hoseok and Seokjin. They salute you in response (well, Hoseok does. Seokjin does a very rude gesture with his fingers that is supposed to mimic something explicit. Feel free to use your imagination.)

The walk to the parking lot is a quiet one. The two of you stay side by side, his strides naturally matching your own. Unlike before, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence for once, content to just be in each other’s presence.

The hotel that your reunion is being held at is unusually unpopulated. The lobby consists of a handful of employees milling about, a few of whom look ready to fall asleep on their feet. You nod politely at the bellboy who opens the main doors for you, declining his offer to call the valet service to fetch your car.

“Just hand me my keys. I’ll look for my car in the parking lot.” It wouldn’t be hard to find, anyway. Your beat-up Toyota Corolla looks as though it’s been through three wars and then some.

It isn’t long until you find it parked close to the entrance. You unlock your car from the passenger seat, shimmying the glove compartment open to reveal your collection of CDs.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you listened to my music,” Yoongi says, voice loud amidst the tranquil night. It startles you, and you accidentally knock over some of the albums onto your car floor. On top of the pile lies Yoongi’s most recent album, the one you recall he had released a couple of months ago.

Strange, how just hours ago you were listening to his music on the way to the reunion, only for the boy on the cover of the album to be just inches away from you.

“Yeah, well. You’re a pretty good artist,” you say.

“Only pretty good?” he repeats, amused.

“Don’t push it,” you snort. You grab the album on top, waving it in front of him. “This should be good enough, right?”

He plucks it from your grasp, an unreadable expression clouding his eyes. He chuckles, but there’s an edge of sadness in his tone. “Good enough,” he agrees solemnly.

His sudden quietness is different from the peaceful one before. It’s sorrowful, maybe regretful. He looks like a man stuck in grief.

“Did you know that I didn’t finish this album before releasing it?”

The question seems a little out of the blue, but you answer regardless. “No, I didn’t. They don’t sound unfinished to me.”

“The songs themselves aren’t unfinished,” he explains. He turns the album over, his finger running down the back where the tracklist is printed. “One of my songs never made it in.”

“Couldn’t you have delayed the album launch so you could complete it?”

He shakes his head. “It was actually the first song I finished out of all of them.”

“Then..?”

“It didn’t matter, at the time. I wrote it for someone specifically, but I didn’t want to put it on the album if she—they didn’t listen to it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole world heard that song because only they would understand it.”

“But now? What changed?” Fear and hope run down your spine in tandem when the question tumbles out of you. You hold your breath, and the world shifts from its axis.

But he doesn’t elaborate further.

x x x x x

You return to the hotel after acquiring both an album and some more tension. The album feels heavy in your hands, weighed down by secrets you are still too afraid to uncover. Not that Yoongi would ever willingly divulge them to you—because revealing them would make them real, and making them real would mean you would have to accept them, and accepting them would cause you to—

“They’re gone,” Yoongi announces when you reenter the ballroom. You can’t spot your table from the entranceway, but the certainty in Yoongi’s tone makes you believe him.

“No fucking way. Did those two little shits ditch us to exchange body fluids or something?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Please don’t say it like that. It’s bad enough that I was sitting close enough to Hoseok a while ago that I got accidentally footsie’d by Seokjin hyung.”

You wince, placing a pitying hand on his shoulder. “God didn’t make us his strongest soldiers.”

Yoongi tries dialing Hoseok a few times, but none of the calls connect. “Just my rotten luck,” he groans. He types angrily into his phone, worry creasing his forehead. “He was supposed to be my ride back to his place.”

“Seokjin isn’t answering his phone either,” you say apologetically. “How much do you wanna bet this is part of their evil scheme to leave us together?”

“I don’t doubt it in the slightest,” he deadpans. He sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I suppose I can take a taxi there, but I also don’t know if he’ll be home to open the door for me.”

“Then why don’t you just stay with me?”

You don’t know what you’re doing.

In your head, the offer makes sense. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Nothing is stopping you from rekindling a friendship with him. You have purely platonic intentions. Friends help each other out.

Never mind the fact that your heart hasn’t stopped fluttering the entire night. Never mind the fact that you’ve caught yourself staring at him just as many times as you’ve caught him staring at you. Never mind the fact that you don’t want the night to end, not now not ever.

(Never mind the fact that you’ve never quite stopped loving him.)

So when he accepts, you convince yourself that offering had been the right thing to do.

(Maybe. Hopefully. You just wish your heart doesn’t end up as collateral damage.)

The drive home is short, thanks to the late hour. You had asked him if he had wanted to stay until the end of the reunion, but he had declined. “Nothing else left for me there,” he says.

You feel as though he’s hinting at something. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. “At least I get to keep my album.”

Yoongi laughs, short and sweet.

As much as you try to fight it, sitting in the car with him brings up a lot of memories.

The two of you in the backseat as his older brother drives you to his house for dinner, backpacks filled with crumpled notes and loose pens, a promise of an intense study session for your upcoming exams ready to be broken. You remember how the sky would turn orange in the afternoon, the warm light streaming through the car window and washing Yoongi’s skin with a soft glow.

His cheeks had looked inviting, his lips even more. And you would lean over, kissing him like it was easy. Because it was easy, and you never had to think twice about it.

Your trip down memory lane doesn’t end in the car. As you walk up the steps to your childhood home, you hesitate by the door, your keys frozen over the lock. You can hear Yoongi’s soft breathing behind you, but his presence doesn’t feel as stifling as you thought it would be.

You’re far from being at ease, but you aren’t frightened either. Mostly, you’re just filled with anticipation. Of what? You aren’t sure.

“Excuse the mess. Jungkook is in the middle of moving out so there’s just stuff everywhere,” you say just as you open the door. You toe off your shoes by the entrance, kicking them off haphazardly into the pile of sneakers and boots.

You hear Yoongi huff out a laugh behind you. “Aish, that kid. Still hasn’t let go of his Timbs, huh?”

“He has also been really into chunky sneakers these days. I think he’s finalizing his transformation into Thumper,” you joke. “He’s staying at his new apartment for the weekend with my parents, so you won’t be seeing them. They’re helping him settle in.”

“Really? He didn’t mention moving when we spoke. Where is he moving to?”

“Busan. He and his best friend from college are going to start a restaurant in his hometown. Which is funny, since neither of them are the best chefs.”

Yoongi whistles. “Still, that’s impressive. I can’t remove the image from my head of when he was a kid. He was so scared of anything. He wouldn’t let go of your mom’s leg even if his life depended on it.”

He steps deeper into the house, his gaze jumping from end to end as he surveys your childhood home. You watch him, noting how right he looks standing there in the middle of your living room, like a chipped painting that has been restored.

It’s scary, how easily you’ve accepted him back into this place.

He stays rooted to the spot, the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows and illuminating his frame. The air pulses with something magical, something dream-like, and it muddles your vision. It’s the only explanation you have for why your chest tightens when he turns to face you, with a gaze filled with sadness, mourning, yearning.

“Jungkook’s height chart is still here,” he murmurs. The small nicks on the kitchen door frame are hard to see, and other people have mistaken them for signs of wear and tear. But he knows what they are because he was there when your mother had etched the first scratch.

He looks at your ancient dining table, his hand brushing over the surface. “This too,” he says, rubbing at a large burn mark on the wood.

“Mom made sure to use placemats after that. I didn’t think a sizzling plate would burn through the table like that,” you say, giggling as you reminisce. “You know, we still use your mom’s galbi jjim recipe. We haven’t found a better one.”

“I’m sure she would love to hear that,” Yoongi smiles, but it fades just as quickly. “It’s so… strange. Being here again and seeing that nothing really changed.”

But things did change. Upstairs, in your bedroom. That night, ten years ago.

You still remember what you had said to him, when you had said it to him, how you had said it to him.

It was a sunny afternoon, the time of day when you’d be on your way home from school. The two of you had stood in your room, neither of you wanting to sit because sitting meant staying, and staying only made this harder.

There hadn’t been many tears in that moment; those were shed only after the realization had sunk in, when you’d fully understood what had happened. At the time, the decision had been as easy as breathing.

Except you had both been drowning. The clock was ticking down to the end of high school, and the inevitable wasn’t slowing down.

Yoongi wanted to chase his dreams in Seoul. You wanted to stay closer to home, with your friends and family.

You weren’t going to be the one to hold him down. You weren’t going to be that person, not when he’s destined for greater things than his hometown could offer—not even a girl who loved him would be worth staying for.

He had suggested it, first. He had been prepared for you to cry, or maybe scream, but you did none of that. Instead, you pulled him close, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. You wanted to make it last, imprint the sensation onto your brain so that his warmth might stay with you, even after he’s little more than a distant memory. You trembled, terribly so, even though the beginnings of summer crept on your skin like a brand.

It’s time to let him go, Time whispered. You refused to listen, just for another moment.

Let me have this last moment, you beg. But Time refused to listen.

“Do you know?” Yoongi had spoken into your neck, had hoped his words would stain there. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Love, not loved. “I did,” you say. You think better of it. “I do.”

When you separated, for good this time, it had left an ache deeper than you could have ever imagined.

But you were young. Young love was supposed to hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to last. “You’ll find others,” your mother had said, brushing a soothing hand through your hair as you sobbed.

Then why? Then why has it lasted this long?

It has been a question you’ve asked yourself, and you’re starting to think that the answer has always been right in front of you.

The answer is standing in front of you: real, alive, close.

“Why didn’t you ever date again?” you ask. You ask even though you know he can lie, if he wants. He can tell you anything and you would believe him.

But he wouldn’t; you know he wouldn’t.

“I was afraid of closing a door that I never meant to close in the first place,” he says. His voice crackles like static, but that might be the blood rushing to your head. He moves toward you but keeps a hand’s width away. Still too far.

He continues. “After that day, when I left,” he swallows, “after I left, I think… I think I left a piece of me with you. A-and I don’t think I ever stopped…” he cuts off, exhaling shakily.

“Stopped what?” you breathe.

“You know.” He waves his hands around helplessly. They fall heavily back down to his sides, defeated. “You know?” he repeats.

You do. Because you are the same. The old wound had never healed; it burns and it bleeds like new.

Your skull feels like it’s stuffed with cotton when you close the distance between the two of you. He circles his arms around your waist, tentative, but he relaxes when you wind your arms around his neck. Your vision is warped, so you choose to close them. You wait, with bated breath, as his warmth inched closer and closer.

The sensation of his lips on yours jolts you back to your senses. His kiss reminds you of your youth, of a love that had made you excited to start your day. Even now, your body remembers, and it rejoices.

The tenderness does not last long before it turns fervent, tongue and teeth crashing like waves against the shore. If his kisses could speak, they would tell you stories of how much he missed you, of how much he mourned the time you had both lost. They would tell you of the days when he’d almost pressed your number onto his phone, of the nights when he’d stare at the polaroids he had kept of you.

They would ask if you still love him like he still loves you.

He tastes of desperation, and you are likely to be the same. It is a desperation you haven’t tasted in years—but it doesn’t feel scary like it used to. Time no longer feels like it’s racing against you, like you had something to prove before the hour was over. This reckless abandon feels like home against your skin—it is an ache being soothed after having ripped your scabs over and over again.

It’s Yoongi.

And when he pulls you to your room, he doesn’t even need his eyes to find his way as his feet still memorize the floorboards. He struggles with the doorknob, forgetting that it always jammed, but it’s okay because you can always teach him again. You can teach him everything again.

The bed creaks under your weights and even the mattress sounds like it is sighing in relief. That sigh echoes from your lips when his hand slips under your clothes, his palm stopping over your heart.

“I won’t break it, this time,” he says. He promises. “If you let me.”

You wonder if he can feel your heart soaring, pounding against your ribs. “I think the line has long been crossed to ask for my permission.” You place your hand over where his is laid. You squeeze tight.

This time, you don’t let him go.

[mercy-burning]

Petite Etoile

Pairing: Spencer Reid x femReader Summary: BAU!Reader used to be a stripper, and when people where she used to work are being murdered, the team is called in to investigate. Category: Fluff, Smut 18+ (oral sex- male and female receiving, penetrative sex, Reader also does a stripping performance) Warnings: Sex, language, mentions of murder/violence and all the things you’d normally find in an episode of Criminal Minds. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 7.8k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is going up way later than I said it would, so I’m sorry if you were looking forward to this, I just haven’t been motivated lately. But  I really have to get out of my writing slump, and I’m hoping I can do that soon. Anyway, I hope you like it! Thanks for reading 🥰 Also, I know that Don’t Blame Me by Taylor Swift doesn’t exist at the time of early season 2, which is when I imagine this taking place, but for the sake of the story let’s pretend it does, because that’s the song I had in mind when I wrote the performance scene 😉😂

***

When Y/N walked into work Thursday morning, everything was as normal as it could be. She chatted with Elle on her way up the elevator, handed JJ her coffee as she made her way to Hotch's office, and ruffled Reid's hair when she passed him, smiling at the way he blushed at her affectionate gesture.

But when the team was called into the round-table room, and she watched as JJ presented their next case, Y/N felt a little sick to her stomach.

Over the past week, three strippers from the town she'd lived in for years before moving to Virginia had been found stabbed in various parts of the block surrounding Starsight. She knew the place well. Not only did she used to work there as a stripper after she graduated, but her best friend, Irene, owned the establishment, and she'd practically become the sister Y/N never had. She helped her through college and pushed her to go into the Bureau. If people, Irene's people, were dying, why hadn't she called or said anything?

Thankfully Y/N didn't recognize any of the dancers who'd been killed, because if she had, she'd feel a lot worse. But even still, she wanted to find who was behind it, and she would. The BAU always did. And with her background knowledge of the scene and the town, Y/N figured she might be able to lend an extra helping hand.

But first she had to tell the team about her past.

It wasn't a secret that she used to be a stripper. In fact, it wasn't really something she was able to hide. With someone as curious as Penelope Garcia in her life, Y/N wouldn't have been able to hide it even if she wanted to. Thankfully though, besides the occasional teasing comment from Morgan, and sometimes Elle, the team didn't treat her any differently. She wasn't Y/N The Former Stripper, she was just Y/N. She was good at her job, and everyone respected and liked her just the way she was.

While debriefing on the jet, she was about to bring it up when Morgan did it first, seemingly sly like he'd discovered some big secret. "Hey, Y/N, didn't you used to live near this place?"

She nodded, clearing her throat. "Uh, yeah, that's actually what I was going to bring up. Starsight is where I used to work before I moved here. I know the owner of the place, she's one of my best friends."

She could tell Morgan wanted to tease her some more about her previous work, but before he could get a word in Gideon spoke from behind her. "Irene Whitcomb?"

"Yeah."

"Good, when we land I want you, Morgan, and Reid to go talk to her. See if you can find anything out."

Y/N nodded, and in front of her, she noticed Reid was a little flushed. It didn't surprise her considering when everyone found out her previous job, he almost choked on his coffee, and Morgan laughed hysterically while he had a coughing fit. It was obvious to Y/N from the beginning that Spencer had had a little crush on her, and it didn't bother her at all. Every once in a while she'd pat his knee before she got up from her seat next to him or wink at him as they saw each other briefly in passing, just to see how he'd react, and by now it was a staple of their relationship. It never did go any further than that though, Y/N afraid she might make him too uncomfortable.

But even still, she couldn't help but give him a flirty smile as he blinked rapidly in front of her, still seeming to process what was going to happen when they landed. When he excused himself to go to the bathroom, she gave him one more wink and a small bite of her lip as he passed.

Morgan laughed softly beside her. "You're gonna ruin the poor kid if you keep that up, girlie."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," she responded, even though the smile on her face suggested otherwise.

***

A strip club being almost at full capacity in the middle of the day was more common than one might think. It had surprised Y/N when she first started working at Starsight, and even now she still didn't really understand why. Regardless it was almost 3pm, and if things had stayed the same over the years, which by the looks of things seemed to be the case, Irene should have been behind the bar.

It must have been a sight to behold, Y/N mused as she and her colleagues navigated through the club in search of its owner, and it sounded like the beginning to a bad joke— a former stripper turned FBI agent, a guy who looks like he just walked straight out of a procedural cop show, and an adorably and obviously nervous skinny kid with glasses and trembling hands walk into a strip club at 3pm... The thought made Y/N laugh to herself, right before Irene spotted her.

"Y/N!"

It was obvious that she wanted to jump over the bar and give her old friend a hug, but given the circumstances, Irene settled for dropping a shot glass, spilling the drink on the counter, and clapping her hands quickly a few times in succession. A wide smile and kind eyes greeted the three agents as they approached.

"Irene, hi," Y/N greeted with a large smile of her own. "I wish I could have came to visit under better circumstances."

"Right, me too..." The blonde woman's smile faded for a second, just long enough that the recognizable signs of grief came and go quickly before replacing themselves with bittersweet niceties. "Anyway, you wanna introduce me to your friends?"

"Yeah, Irene, these are my colleagues, Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid."

Irene reached out to shake their hands, eyeing up Morgan with only the slightest bit of shame, and laughing softly at Reid's polite avoidance of the gesture as he settled on a wave and a shy smile.

"We were hoping to ask you a few questions about the past week," Morgan said.

"Yeah, anything. Just give me a minute to clean this up and we can sit down."

***

"So, you used to work here?"

Y/N laughed, kicking Derek under the table. "Yep. Looks exactly the same as when I left, too. Only difference is that I'm not here to bring everyone in on Friday nights."

As Derek laughed, Spencer tensed up beside Y/N, and he started to play with his hands under the table they all sat at.

"She's not joking," Irene said as she approached the table with a smile. She took the seat next to Morgan and gave him a wink. "Petite Etoile over here was the main attraction."

Y/N groaned a little. "Oh, c'mon Irene, don't use my nickname here, that's not who I am anymore."

"Don't tell me you've lost your shine, Little Star." From the tone in her voice to the look on her face, it was clear to Y/N that Irene was just as devious as she'd been since the day they first met. "You know it would just break this town's heart."

"I highly doubt that... Besides, this little star shines just as brightly as it used to, thank you very much."

At that statement, Y/N felt Reid's knee hit the table with a loud thud. As Morgan questioned whether he was okay, she wondered what was running through his head. It didn't last long though, because shortly afterwards Morgan started asking questions about the case.

"Was it particularly crowded on the nights the dancers were killed?"

Irene hugged her arms to her stomach, her eyes drooping a little at the mention. "It gets pretty crowded every night to tell you the truth. But Friday nights are busiest. The nights Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn disappeared were just like any other night here."

"I know how hard it is to keep track of everyone, but is there anyone you might have noticed that seemed a little too lurk-y?" Even as she asked the question, Y/N felt like she already knew the answer.

And Irene really did seem to try to recall something, anything that could help, but she was visibly frustrated, tears welling in her eyes. "No, Y/N, I'm so sorry. After Carrie... the first time... we heightened security and everything, but it just wasn't enough, I... I don't know what to do."

Y/N reached across the table to grab her friend's hand. "It's okay, 'Rene. We're gonna figure this out, alright? I promise you."

Through tears, the blonde smiled and squeezed Y/N's hand. "I know you will, Little Star."

"Would it be possible for us to look at your surveillance tapes?" Reid asked quietly.

Irene looked up at him and nodded, still squeezing Y/N's hand. "Anything you need."

***

"So... Little Star, huh?"

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile as she, Morgan, and Reid got into the car. When she got in the passenger seat, she waited for Morgan to be in the car before responding. "Oh, don't start. I swear to God, Derek, if you start calling me that I might just have to kick your ass."

"Well, you gotta at least tell me how you got the name?" he laughed, putting on his seatbelt while Reid climbed in the back.

"Well, how do you think? The place is called Starsight after all... So, Petite Etoile just made sense."

It was obvious that she was lying to get him to drop it, so Morgan kept pushing. "Okay, sure, but that's not the whole truth. Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn didn't have star names."

"Ugh, okay, fine, if I tell you will you shut up about it?"

"Promise."

Y/N caught a glimpse of Reid in the back through the rearview mirror. As expected, he was fidgety and just a little red.

She sighed and waited until Morgan pulled out of the parking lot to talk. "Okay. Once every month Starsight does a 'Midnight Sky' theme night. They light the place up in deep blue lights and everyone wears... space-themed outfits. Every dancer does their own special routine with songs and outfits that they pick on their own. My first time working a theme night, everyone seemed to really like what I did; I ended up doing an encore later in the night before we closed. Another dancer who worked with us at the time, Jenny, was learning French, so after my performance she called me Petite Etoile, and it just stuck."

"Okay, but why did you get the nickname and no one else?" Morgan asked with a smug smile. He knew she was still holding something back.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes, Y/N, I really want to know."

She sighed. "Let's... just say my outfit was... well, it barely covered me, and what it did manage to cover was covered by fabric in the shape of stars."

While Morgan laughed, Y/N looked in the mirror to see Reid with his head low, even more red than he was before. He was biting his bottom lip and fiddling the the seatbelt strap, and when his eyes briefly met hers in the mirror he was quick to avoid eye contact once again. If Y/N didn't find it completely adorable she would have felt more badly about it. But just to make sure, she called out to him.

"Reid, you okay back there?"

He looked up to meet her eyes again through the mirror, but only briefly before trying to ook anywhere else. "O-oh, yeah, I'm... I'm good."

Morgan laughed. "Yeah, I bet you are."

Y/N punched him in the arm and met Reid's eyes once more. "Sorry."

"Oh, you don't have anything to be sorry about, it's... it's okay, really, I-I'm not... it's..."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Y/N said calmly, giving him a reassuring smile. "We're all good here, right?"

"Right," Morgan and Reid said one after the other.

"Good. Now let's catch this creep."

***

Unfortunately no one had gotten much of anywhere in the next few hours. The security footage showed a man following each of the girls out of Starsight but there wasn't anything distinctive about him. Somehow he'd avoided all the cameras face to face, so he knew where they all were. And as for how he chose which dancers to target they weren't sure.

Until Irene walked into the station, that is.

"Y/N, I completely forgot something! I can't believe I missed it."

She stood before the team in the office that the station had given them for the time being, everyone else sitting down. Y/N stood up and nodded. "What is it?"

"Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn were all Spotlight Performers."

"What does that mean?" Elle asked from behind them.

Y/N turned to the group, her arms crossed. "Every other night Starsight spotlights a different dancer for a large performance at the end of the night, sort of like a grand finale before the club closes."

"So you're saying each of the girls was the Spotlight Performer on the nights they went missing?" Hotch asked, more like a clarification than a question.

"Yeah, Carrie on Saturday, Lola on Monday, and Evelyn on Wednesday," Irene said frantically.

Y/N reached out to grab her hand. "Well, it's Thursday. So, if he sticks to pattern, he's going after tomorrow's Spotlight Performer. Who do you have lined up?"

"Well, no one yet. After the murders the girls have been hesitant to schedule, and I don't blame them... So what should I do?"

Before Y/N could answer, Hotch did. "Y/L/N, you haven't gone undercover before, but I think it would be a good idea. You used to work at Starsight, you could lure him out."

She turned around sharply. "Oh, I... I don't know, Hotch, I haven't danced in so long, I'm not sure I—"

"He's right," Gideon interrupted. "It's the best chance we have at catching him."

Between Hotch and Gideon's opinions on the matter, Y/N knew she didn't have a say anymore.

"You still know your routine, Petite Etoile?" Irene asked, only slightly amused.

"Petite Etoile?" Elle wondered aloud.

Y/N heard Morgan laugh and she sighed.

***

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were nervous," Irene said as she straightened another piece of Y/N's hair.

She played with the hem of the sheer robe she was wearing. "Well, I'm about to go undercover for the first time, stripping for the first time in years in front of all my colleagues so I can lure out a serial killer, so I guess you could say I'm a little nervous."

"Well... When you put it like that..."

Y/N looked up at her friend. "I'm sorry, Irene. Really, I'm okay, and we will get him, I promise."

"No, I know you will. I'm not worried. So... Who do they have watching you tonight?"

"Gideon and Hotch are outside, but Elle, Morgan, and Reid are in here with me. There are some extra officers all around the block, too, just in case."

"Hmm," Irene mused, and Y/N could tell she wanted to say something.

"What?"

"I don't know, it just surprises me they'd send Reid in here of all people. He seems almost more nervous than you."

Y/N laughed. "Well, when it comes to girls he gets a little nervous, but... he's good at his job."

"I'll take your word for it. But I also wouldn't be surprised if he short circuits when he sees you up there."

The thought made her smile a little, though she wondered how badly Morgan would tease him about the whole situation. Things between them all would no doubt be a little awkward for a while, but in no time they'd go back to normal like it never happened. At least that's what she told herself, because she wasn't sure what she'd do if her friendship with Reid was permanently damaged and awkward because of her past. The thought worried her just a little, but before she could get too psyched out, a knock at the door brought her back to reality.

"Y/N, it's Elle."

"Come on in!"

Y/N got up from the chair and turned around to meet Elle in the doorway. Her eyes wandered for a moment before nodding with a smirk. "Damn. Petite Etoile indeed."

Despite the nerves, Y/N smiled. "You here to give me an earpiece?"

Elle nodded and closed the door behind her. As she turned on the device and handed it to Y/N, she spoke. "You nervous?"

"A little, but it's just because I haven't done this in a while. Not to mention I'm doing it in front of everyone, and I'm luring out the unsub."

"No pressure, right?"

Y/N laughed, adjusting the earpiece and taking a deep breath. "It'll be fine. How long until I go on?"

"Five minutes. I'll be near the front with Reid. Morgan is in the back with a few officers, and everyone else is outside. We all have communication with you, so if we see him we'll let you know what to look out for."

"Got it."

"Y/L/N, can you hear me?" It was Hotch's voice through the earpiece.

"Yeah, loud and clear."

"Good. We're all in position. Whenever you're ready."

***

Elle met him near the front of the stage. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. Spencer didn't have a problem with strip clubs in the least, but it was bad enough that he'd thought about Y/N on multiple occasions in his dreams, now he was going to have to see her stripping just like he'd imagined many times over. The whole situation spelled out disaster, and if she didn't already know he had a crush on her, she most certainly would when the night was over.

As Elle approached him, he took a deep breath and stretched out his hands to calm his nerves. "She okay?"

Elle nodded. "Ready to go. I'm gonna stand on the other side of the stage, keep a look out for anyone who seems like he could be our guy."

"Right."

Before she left, Elle patted him on the shoulder and smiled knowingly. "Oh, and Reid... Try not to get distracted."

Yeah. He was fucked.

When the music that was playing stopped and the lights started to shift, Spencer took another deep breath. Irene's familiar voice came through the speakers.

"Thank you for coming to Starsight. Tonight's Spotlight Performer is a special one. Returning to the stage for the first time in years, shining brighter and better than ever before, give it up for our very own little star, Petite Etoile!"

A deep, seductive song that Spencer didn't recognize replaced Irene's voice as the lights shifted again, and the crowd around him applauded. It was just as crowded as it had been when he, Morgan, and Y/N met Irene the day before, but with a serial killer no doubt present and Y/N about to come on stage, everything felt heavier.

A dark silhouette broke through fog on the stage, and even though Spencer knew it was Y/N, it didn't feel real. He'd only ever seen her at work, in work clothes, and sometimes in casual clothes when they all went out for drinks on occasion.

So when she finally came into view, her hair tumbling down her back and shoulders rather than in a ponytail, and wearing almost nothing at all, he wasn't even sure it was her for a split second. But the way she looked, her magnetic presence and the way she carried herself across the stage was so remarkably her it was hard to miss. Everything about her confidence was elevated in that moment, and his own confidence—in his job and ability to function as a human being—was completely shattered when she caught his eye. It was just a split second, but that was all it took.

She must have noticed, because she gave him a small smile and a wink before turning her attention to the rest of the crowd as the music built. Spencer cleared his throat softly before glancing around, trying his best to scan everyone for anything suspicious. When he was sure there was nothing around him to be concerned about, he reluctantly let his eyes wander back to the stage.

By now Y/N had rid herself of the sheer robe that was on her, leaving her in a deep blue one-piece... contraption was the only word he could come up with. It was all connected by thin straps of fabric that weaved around every curve of her body, crisscrossing and leaving little to the imagination. Just like she'd described back in the car yesterday, small patches of fabric shaped like stars covered the front of her breasts and...

The second he looked down, she squatted, spreading her legs open and rolling her hips, exposing almost the entire front three rows of people to her barely-clothed pussy.

Spencer felt his cheeks grow warm as he quickly averted his gaze and pretended to survey the crowd again. To his credit, he did really search for anyone who could be the unsub, but the whole time he heard the song and the cheering crowd, and in turn Y/N occupied almost every corner of his brain.

When he finally had the courage to look at the stage again, she was making her way to a chair in the middle. Every step was on beat to the music and purposeful. She danced around the chair for a bit before another big beat drop in the song happened, and she squatted in front of it quickly, rolling her hips as she slowly got up.

Her eyes found his once more as she mouthed along to the words of the song, almost like she was singing directly to him. He wouldn't have thought anything of it, but she held his gaze for much longer than he'd been able to handle, and she knew exactly what she was doing. Which was made evident when she bit her bottom lip and ran her hands down her body, stopping at her knees before she sat in the chair and spread her legs, her hands finally dragging along the insides of her thigh.

Her eyes remained on him the entire time.

Butterflies immediately erupted in his stomach at her intensity, stronger than they'd ever been before. He'd always felt it when she affectionately ruffled his hair or patted his knee in passing, but now? She wasn't even touching him and he was about to crumble to the ground.

Thankfully something in his ear saved him from that. "I've got a visual." It was Morgan. "He's in the back, black long sleeve and jeans. Buzzcut. Y/N, look up at me and blink three times when you see him."

Reid looked up and and noticed her doing it. To anyone else it wouldn't have seemed out of pace, but he could tell she was a little rattled. In any case, she broke contact with Morgan and continued on with her performance as if nothing happened.

Though it meant there was most definitely a serial killer in the room and he would follow Y/N out of the club later, Spencer was glad for the past minute, because he wasn't sure how much more of the performance he could take. Suddenly there was a job to focus on again, and he was thankful for that.

***

"You're sure you're okay?"

Y/N laughed as she approached her motel room, phone in hand. "Yeah, Irene, I'm okay. Promise. He got a hold on me but my team was there to stop him before he did anything. No nicks or bruises or anything."

"Okay... You were great out there by the way. If you weren't such a kick-ass FBI agent now, I'd ask you to come back."

Laughing, she turned her head and noticed Reid at the end of the hall, walking to his room. He caught her eye and gave a shy smile before disappearing behind the door and closing himself off from her. She contemplated a moment before starting her journey to his room. "Well, I'm glad we could help. Maybe if I find myself in town again, I'll stop by."

"Yeah, you better. Though I'd prefer if a serial killer wasn't involved."

"You and me both. I'll come see you before we leave tomorrow morning, yeah?"

"Yeah. Goodnight, Petite Etoile."

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Y/N nodded though her friend wouldn't be able to see. "Night."

She hung up and put the phone in her bag, taking a deep breath before knocking on Reid's door.

The answer was almost immediate. He stood before her, and it looked like he'd just gotten undressed, wearing grey pajama bottoms and a white tee shirt. "Oh, Y/N, h-hi," he stammered, pushing his glasses up his nose a little. "What's up?"

"Do you... mind if I come in? I know it might sound a little weird but I don't really want to be alone right now..." It was true. Though she was okay after catching the unsub, the idea of being alone after everything that happened was sure to leave a small ache that wouldn't let her sleep, and having company would make a good cure.

"Oh, no, that isn't weird at all. Uh, sure, come on in." He stepped aside and opened the door wider to let her through. She smiled gratefully as she passed him, careful to notice the faint color that adorned his cheeks.

When he closed the door behind them, she set her bag down on the floor and turned to meet him, playing with the sleeve of the FBI jacket she was wearing. Before leaving Starsight, she'd changed into underwear, leggings, and a thin tee shirt. She debated taking the jacket off, but knowing how much of her body her colleague and friend had no doubt seen that night, she figured for his sake she'd leave it on. At least for now.

"I know it's late and we should probably get to bed, but... Truthfully I don't know how well I'll be able to sleep."

Spencer seemed concerned. "You're... you're okay? He didn't hurt you badly, did he?"

"Oh! No, he didn't, I'm just... rattled, that's all. I'll be okay, really. It's just that I haven't... performed in a long time, and all of that added on to being serial killer bait was just... eventful. That's all."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, you were great."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at her lips. "Oh?"

"Oh, I mean at handling the unsub. Not that you weren't great at the other thing, of course! I just... I just meant that... I didn't mean... Um..."

"Hey, it's okay, I'm... I'm not mad or anything, I'm... flattered."

The redness on Spencer's face became more vivid under the dim glow of the room. "I- Really?"

Y/N smiled and took a step closer. "Mhmm. Y'know... Truthfully it was really hard for me not to look at you the whole time. Out of everyone in that whole room, I wanted to see only you."

His gaze wandered up and down her body briefly before meeting her eyes. "You did?"

"Mhmm," she said again. Her hand reached out to graze his bare arm, and he shivered under her light touch. "You can stop me if this is too weird, but... I really like you, Spence... Like, a lot. And, I think it's pretty obvious that you like me, too. Am I wrong?"

He swallowed. "Um... No. You're not wrong."

She was only inches away from him now, her hands gently caressing his shoulders and chest. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and smiled. "Do you want to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss you right now?"

"Um... T-truthfully I think I might want... to kiss you more..."

Y/N laughed and balled his shirt in one hand, the other snaking up to the back of his head and running through his hair. "Okay, then... You gonna prove it, or what?"

He bit his lip softly before leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss that made her dizzy. Her hands tightened their grip on him, and the second her lips parted, he wasted no time gently swiping his tongue across her bottom lip, his confidence growing with every second. She groaned into him, pulling her body flush against his and forcing him to wrap his arms around her waist to keep steady.

They pulled away for air eventually, and by the gleam in his eyes when she looked at him, she knew exactly what she had to do.

"No one is rooming with you, right?"

"N-no. It's just me."

"Good." She whispered it seductively as she removed her hands from him and slowly unzipped her jacket, keeping eye contact with Spencer the whole time. Except, of course, when his eyes glanced down to see the progress the zipper was making. Once she slid it off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, he took her in, his tongue dancing behind his lips.

She let him have a few more seconds before taking a step forward and kissing him again, both of her hands cradling his face and bringing her thumbs to gently rub his cheeks. He melted into her completely, wrapping his arms around her again in no time. While their kisses were slow and passionate for a minute, eventually they grew hungrier, and Y/N hadn't even realized they'd been moving until they were toppling onto the bed, Spencer falling back and her landing on top of him.

They broke apart only for a moment to adjust themselves, but went right back to each other once Y/N straddled his legs and he leaned back on his hands to keep himself upright.

Her hands played in his hair as she kissed him, each brush of her tongue against his sending him into a downward spiral. He'd only ever dreamed of this, and even then, this was better than any dream. Y/N herself was better than any dream.

She ground her hips against him, causing him to groan into her mouth, and he pushed himself forward to be closer, needing to be completely wrapped up in her for as long as he could. When she pulled her mouth from his and settled her hands on his shoulders to keep him from moving, he whined a little, the sound completely taking the both of them aback.

She smiled and cocked her head to the side. "I've thought about this for so long... You have no idea how many times I've wanted to kiss you since we met."

"Really?"

With a nod, Y/N toyed with the collar of his shirt, tugging it and slowly grinding her hips against him again. "Have you ever thought about it?"

It was a question they both obviously knew the answer to, but she wanted to have some fun. She loved seeing how shy he got, it made her want him even more.

"Yes... I... I think about you a lot," he breathed, blinking at her as she slid her hands down his chest and found the bottom of his shirt. She smiled and raised it up, her touch sending shivers all over his body.

"What have you thought about? Any specifics?" she asked once his shirt was all the way off. Her fingers found their way to his neck again as she pulled herself closer.

"Oh, I... Um... I-I've thought about... kissing you on the jet in front of everyone."

Y/N smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose, then traced her finger down over his lips and hooked it under his chin to tilt his head up, exposing his neck. "I've thought about that, too... You know what else?"

Spencer blinked at her, urging her to continue.

She leaned forward and kissed the underside of his jaw, then his neck, leaving small kisses in between every soft word. "I've thought about how good your hands would feel on me." Her hand grabbed one of his and brought it to rest on her side, slipping under her shirt. "Have you ever thought about touching me?"

"Yes," he breathed as she moved her mouth back up his jaw and to the corner of his mouth.

She brought her lips just inches from his, and he could feel them just barely as she spoke. "Do it. Please."

And then she let go of him, bringing both her hands to his face as she kissed him again. Her legs wrapped around him tighter as he used both of his hands to grip her sides. As soon as they knew they were stable enough not to fall backwards, Spencer slid his hands slowly up her torso and barely ghosted over her breasts. She could tell he was a little hesitant, so she pushed further into him, practically trapping his hands in between their chests. Her kisses grew deeper and more desperate as he palmed her breasts, letting a moan or two slip out to encourage him further.

Thankfully it worked, because with every passing second he got more confident with his touches. When Y/N moved her hips against his again, he sighed into her mouth and brought one of his hands out from under her shirt and to her head, running his fingers through her hair.

At this point he was noticeably hard beneath her, and she was desperate to feel more of him. So Y/N peeled herself away from Spencer and snuck her hand down to play with the waistband of his pants. "You wouldn't happen to have a condom on you, would you?"

"Oh, uh, a-actually Morgan gave me one as a joke last week. It's, uh, in my wallet. In my bag."

Y/N laughed. "Sounds like him. Why don't you go grab it."

He nodded as she got up off of him. While he walked over to his bag, Y/N quickly removed her shirt and leggings, leaving her only in a pair of thin black panties that were almost too small. Before he turned around, she sat back on the edge of the bed and spread her legs wide, leaning back on her elbows as she waited.

If she didn't know any better she would have thought that when he turned around, his eyes were going to fall out of his head. He took small steps towards the bed, and she made the 'come here' motion with her finger. "Take your pants off for me?"

He all but scrambled to get them off, and Y/N smiled affectionately at him as she watched, hoping to calm his nerves by letting him know that he had nothing to be nervous about.

But just to be sure, she told him as much anyway. "You've got nothing to worry about, Spence. Trust me, I... I want this."

Once his pants were off, he met her at the edge of the bed, standing in between her legs. "I do too, I just... It's just that I've only ever... done this before once, and... I'm not very experienced, and I don't want to disappoint you."

Y/N sat up and grabbed his hips, leaning forward to press small, soft kisses to his stomach as she looked up at him. "You could never disappoint me. Promise."

Once she was sure he was a little more relaxed, she moved her kisses lower, until they reached the waistband of his underwear. She hooked her fingers under it and slid them down slowly, keeping eye contact with him until they dropped to the floor. Only then did she look down at his dick, and it was even better than she imagined.

Giving a satisfied hum, she pressed a soft kiss to the tip and fluttered her eyes up to meet his, the look on his face completely awe-struck. She took the tip of his dick in between her lips and sucked gently, swirling her tongue around it as she watched his mouth fall open, a sigh escaping. She could tell he was holding back a little, so she traced her finger along the length of him and kept sucking lightly at the tip, hoping to get some noise out of him.

Y/N took him in her mouth completely, bobbing her head up and down just a few times to get him wet before removing her lips with a pop. When she gripped him firmly with one hand and steadily began to stroke him, he finally gave her what she hoped for.

"Y/N," he groaned, just above a whisper. His eyes were closed, but he opened them when she stopped.

"You wanna put it on or should I?" she asked.

"Spencer turned the small packet over in his hand before nodding. "I can do it."

Y/N scooted farther onto the bed and slid off her panties as he got to work, and thankfully he wasn't as nervous anymore. He moved to take off his glasses, but she stopped him. "Keep them on?"

The devious grin on her face made him blush, and he nodded, crawling over the top of her and pressing tentative kisses to her stomach, only he travelled downward instead of up to her mouth.

"You don't have t—"

"I want to," he reassured, kissing her inner thighs. "Truth be told, Y/N, I've thought about doing this, too. Is that okay?"

"Yes," she responded clearly, extremely turned on by the needy tone in his voice.

Almost immediately after she answered, his tongue darted out to taste her, swiping gently over her clit and sending her into a state of speechlessness. She leaned up on her elbows to watch as Spencer took his time, exploring and savoring every inch of her. She knew now why he'd wanted to take his glasses off, but if anything the sight of them riding up his face as he ate her out made the whole thing even hotter.

"Fuck, Spence, that... that feels so fucking good," she breathed, trying to keep her eyes open to look at him but ultimately failing.

Her words emboldened him, and he slipped a finger slowly inside her, his tongue paying special attention to her clit. He worked them together in a slow, sensual rhythm that eventually drove her to the edge. And she told him so.

"You're gonna make me cum," she breathed, willing herself to open her eyes. She found him staring up at her as best as he could in his position, the hungry sparkle in his eye pushing her further. What finally pushed her over the edge was when he sucked gently on her clit and groaned against her as she called out his name. Everything blinded her for a moment as she rocked her hips against his face, needing to hang on to every last second of her orgasm.

When she finally came down, Spencer pulled away and adjusted his glasses, to which Y/N bit her lip and moaned once more. "You're sure you've only ever done this once?"

He laughed a little, sucking his fingers clean with a shrug before answering. "Yeah, but I'm a quick-study."

Y/N smiled and reached one of her arms out to him. "Come here, quick-study."

The two of them smiled as their lips found one another, her hands flying to his hair once again. His hands gripped her waist, and his dick pressed up against her lower stomach, making her groan against him.

Without another word, Y/N hooked her legs around his waist and shifted their weight, rolling them over so she was straddling him now. Spencer reached up to move her hair to one side of her face, and then soon after she sat up, placing her hands on his chest.

"I'll tell you something else I've thought about," she said lowly, scratching down his chest just lightly enough to give him goosebumps. She then used one of her hands to grip his dick and lifted her hips up, running the head of him through her wetness as she looked down at him. "I've thought about how good you would look while I ride you. More than once, actually."

She sank down onto him, just a little, and his face sure enough twitched in pleasure, making Y/N smile to herself. "What about you? You ever imagine me riding this pretty cock?"

"Fuck, Y/N, yes, I— Oh my god..."

She sat down completely, rocking her hips forward a little and pressing her hands harder into his chest. "Fuck, you feel so good..."

She set a slow pace, making sure to pay extra attention to Spencer's face as she worked him. Just like she'd done before, he seemed to have a hard time keeping his eyes open, but his hands gripped her hips so tightly she was sure they'd leave bruises. The thought of that spurred her on, and she picked up the pace, bouncing steadily on his cock.

"Ohhh, fuck," she groaned, her hands leaving his torso to grab her breasts. He opened his eyes and watched her, letting out a soft moan of his own. His hands slid up her sides and under hers, replacing them with his own firm grip. She leaned forward a little so he wouldn't have to reach up that far, placing both of her hands on either side of his waist.

"Tell me," she managed to say as she continued riding him. "You ever think about fucking me at work? In the round-table room or over my desk? I know I have..."

He continued to pinch and pull at her nipples while barely being able to keep his eyes open. "Y-yes... Fuck, Y/N, I think about you all the time..."

"Feeling's mutual. Sit up for me?"

Spencer opened his eyes and she helped him sit up. They adjusted for a second before she wrapped her arms around his neck and started moving again, rocking her hips into his and giving him a better angle to hit inside her deeper.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," she breathed against his lips before she kissed him, missing the feel of his lips on hers. Their bodies clung together perfectly, every movement feeling better than the last, until they were both obviously close to coming undone.

Sure enough, the moment she squeezed her legs together and clenched herself around him, he groaned into her mouth and bucked his hips forward. "Y/N... I..."

She pressed her forehead to his and tugged at his hair, quickening her pace just a little and feeling herself geting close as well. Any moment now and she would feel it.

"Me, too," she breathed, brushing her nose against his. Within a matter of seconds, they were both unraveling, sighing out each others' names and holding on to each other for dear life as they rode out their highs.

Eventually Y/N slowed her hips to a stop, and she slumped against him, pressing one final kiss to his lips before she got off his lap and pulled him down to lay beside her, immediately snuggling into his side and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"So, was that better than you imagined?" she murmured against his neck, pressing kisses along collarbone.

Spencer laughed and pulled her even closer. "Even better. No dream could ever do you justice."

She smiled, feeling herself growing sleepy. "You sap... But, for the record, I could say the same thing about you."

"Really?" He seemed genuinely curious.

Y/N looked up at him and smiled, tracing patterns on his chest with her fingertips. "Really. I wasn't kidding, Spence, I think about you... probably more often than I should. You're distracting."

"I'm distracting?" he mused. "You're... you. Seriously, it's a surprise I haven't completely made a fool of myself around you since we met. Especially after we all found out about your other job."

"Right... That doesn't... weird you out, does it?"

"That you used to be a stripper?"

She nodded, truthfully a little worried. She wasn't sure why, but it had always been a problem in her previous relationships, and she'd gotten used to that.

"No, of course that doesn't weird me out. I mean, I was definitely more intimidated around you, and I figured you were completely out of my league... Truthfully, I think you still might be."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, Doctor. You're perfect, and really, if anyone was out of anyone's league here, it would be me. I'd be lucky to have you in any capacity, you know that, right?"

He blushed, bringing his forehead to rest against hers again. "Well... In any case, I really do like you, and... If it's not too weird, maybe you'd want to go out sometime?"

Warmth bloomed in her chest as she reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Of course. I would love to."

***

"Make it stop," Y/N whined, covering her ears with the pillow.

Spencer stirred beside her, barely awake himself. The knocking at the door wasn't stopping, and in a huff of annoyance, Y/N decided she'd had enough.

"We're getting up!"

She only realized what she did after the door opened and Elle walked in, a shit-eating grin on her face. "Oh my God, you were in here last night! I came by your room and tried calling..."

Y/N and Spencer both froze, completely awake and now well aware of the fact that someone else knew about their... sleeping arrangement.

"Uh, yeah... Yeah, I was here. Sorry if I worried you," Y/N stammered, trying to keep her cool. "I-I promised Irene I'd stop by this morning for breakfast before we left, so I should probably do that. Do, um... Do you mind?"

Elle laughed, giving the two of her friends a once-over before nodding. "Sure thing, Little Star. Oh, and uh... Good for you, Reid, proud of you."

"Elle," Y/N groaned, clutching the covers tighter around her bare torso.

"Right. Don't be too late."

After she left, Y/N leaned over to Spencer and rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry. I probably should have—"

He stopped her by pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. When he pulled away, his hand brushed the hair from her face and he smiled. "It's fine. I don't care who knows. I mean, as long as you don't, Petite Etoile..."

He said it with a grin reminiscent of the one Elle had just adorned, and it made Y/N laugh. She kissed him again and ruffled his hair. "I'm gonna get you for that."

"What? It suits you."

"You are not calling me by my stripper name. It's bad enough Elle and Morgan are probably gonna call me that for the rest of my life, I don't need it from you, too." She smiled as she said it, hoping that he knew she was only joking.

Either way, Spencer looked at her adoringly and took her hand in his. "Well, then... how about I just call you mine?"

"I like the sound of that."

[cassifiction]

the lucky one - ch. 1/3

Pairing: Sevika x fem reader

Warnings: alcohol, mild intoxication.

Summary: Your friends take you out to party for the first time. Amidst the crowd, through the flashing lights and loud music, you notice an intriguing stranger. Part 1 of 3.

Word count: 2.1k

Notes: partially inspired by real events and greatly enhanced by my thirst for fictional ladies.

A sudden breeze made your whole body shiver. The cool night air wrapped itself around you like a cold blanket. The clothes your friends picked out for you might have looked amazing on you, but they sure weren’t doing a good job at keeping you warm. Soon though, that wouldn’t matter anymore. Your poor excuse of a coat would be dropped off at the entrance of the bar and instead your body would be warmed by the heat produced by the sea of people dancing the night away. Right now, even as you were desperate for any semblance of warmth, you couldn’t see how that could even be remotely appealing to someone. But your friends were sure you were going to love it there. Somehow.

“It’s so cold tonight!” your best friend said as she walked beside you, tightly hugging her arms around herself to keep warm. She too was dressed up in an outfit that made her look gorgeous, but unfortunately also sacrificed looks over comfort. You nodded at her with a wry smile, a little too lost in your own thoughts to give a proper reply.

Your other three friends were walking ahead of you, excitedly chatting amongst themselves and occasionally checking behind them to make sure you and your best friend were still close by. They were already rather tipsy, but you didn’t mind. They knew how to handle themselves. They were experts at this whole partying thing. You couldn’t think of anyone better suited for the tough job of introducing you to the concept of partying.

Oh god. You felt your stomach drop a little as reality sank in once again.

You. Out partying. Drinks and loud music underneath bright neon lights. This wasn’t something you had ever done before. Small parties with friends? Sure. But going out to a bar during a special party night? No, this was totally new. It was new and exciting and fun and absolutely terrifying. You let out a long, tense sigh as you and your friends rounded a corner and the bright lights of the bar came into view. The Last Drop. The only place really worth visiting if you wanted to party all night, or so your friends had said.

You could already hear the pulsating music as you approached the building, the recognizable sign above the door shining bright and welcoming, yet somehow also threatening. The trio of friends walking ahead of you made their way straight past the line of people waiting to get in, right up to the bouncers at the door. You and your best friend awkwardly made your way past the line as well to catch up to your other friends, who were making small talk with the bouncers. Just as you walked up to them, the bouncers moved out of the way to grant them access. You and your friend quietly followed them. The bouncers gave you both a polite nod as you entered the building.

The second the doors swung open, the full atmosphere of the bar hit you right away. The music was so loud you could feel the bass in your chest. The colorful lights illuminating the dancefloor felt too bright after walking through the dark streets of Zaun. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, smoke, sweat and perfume. Your senses felt completely overloaded, but it only lasted for a moment before your body adjusted itself a little to the new surroundings. Your friends excitedly pulled you over to the bar to order the first round of drinks. Five bright pink cocktails soon arrived, followed by the clinking of glasses.

“Cheers!”

It was barely audible over the loud music. But it didn’t matter, your friends were having fun. And you were starting to have fun too.

Yes, the music was loud. Not loud enough to hurt your ears though, and feeling the bass in your chest actually felt exciting rather than frightening. The lights were bright but they made everyone on the dancefloor look so beautiful in the otherwise dimly lit bar. The scent of smoke and sweat still wasn’t pleasant, but once you finished your first cocktail you realized you were quickly getting used to it.

It was hard to talk to your friends over the music, but shouting into each other’s ears to hear what you were talking about became almost a game of sorts. After your first round of cocktails you collectively decided to switch to something cheaper for the night. The next drink didn’t taste nearly as nice as the first one, but you knew it wasn’t about taste from now on. It was just about the alcohol. Two drinks down and it was time for the next mental hurdle. The dancefloor.

Sure, you had danced before. Just with friends, in small groups, with people you knew well in places you knew well. But never in a place like this. Your friends were already halfway across the room by now, while you were still sitting at the bar with your friend who seemed a bit hesitant to go as well.

“We should probably follow them..” she said.

“Yeah, I’m just.. I’m a bit nervous.” you replied, staring into your nearly empty glass.

“Same. It’s all a bit intimidating.”

You nodded. You took the moment of calm to take a good look around the space you were in, something you hadn’t done so far tonight. The bar you were sitting at was busy, the chairs your friends had been occupying were taken again seconds after they had left. The dancefloor was the busiest place by far, everyone seemed to be having a great time. You saw your friends had reached it by now and were starting to join in themselves. They looked like they were having fun. You felt a little more inclined to go join them now.

As you scoped out the rest of the bar, your eyes fell upon a small group of people sitting in a corner. It was almost entirely dark except for one light, illuminating a low table in their middle. You couldn’t really see any of their faces, but it looked like they were playing cards. You only could make out part of one person. Someone who stood out from the others at the table. They were bigger than the others and as they sat up, you could see part of their face. A pair of beautiful grey eyes. Suddenly, and only for a moment, staring right back at you. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds but it felt like much longer, like time was temporarily slowed down around you. And in that time, your friend had seemingly made up her mind.

“Oh, screw it. What’s the worst that could happen?” she said as she jumped up, getting ready to head to the dancefloor. With a light tug on your arm, she encouraged you to follow her. Distracted, you broke eye contact with the stranger across the room and when you tried to look back, the person had disappeared into the shadows again. All you could see was their vague outline, cast from the single light in font of them and their company.

“Right.” you muttered to your friend. “Let’s go.”

Getting dragged along by your friend, you made your way across the room towards the dancefloor. Your other friends cheered as they saw the both of you approaching and before you knew it, you were all in a circle and dancing. A little modestly at first, you still weren’t entirely sure of yourself. But once you were handed your third drink of the evening, it got easier and easier to let yourself relax and let loose. You felt comfortable enough to dance a little more wildly, to sing along to the songs a little louder. Your friends cheered as you twirled and jumped to that one song you loved, not thinking of how you might look, all of you loudly singing along, not caring about possibly losing your voice the next day. The discomfort slowly disappeared. You were having fun. In the moment, that was all that mattered.

You bumped into several people, most of them eager to join you and your friends for a little while. You had all but forgotten about the mysterious stranger you saw across the room earlier as you danced with these new strangers. But as exciting as it all was, after a little while you felt your body getting tired. You let your friends know you needed a moment, you would get right back to them after you had a little breather at the bar. Luckily, now that most of the bar’s patrons were letting loose on the dancefloor, there were plenty of available seats. You ordered a soda, feeling like it’d be smart to have something without alcohol now. As you took a sip, you looked back around to the dark corner where you had seen the stranger with the pretty eyes before. To your disappointment, they didn’t seem to be there anymore.

Just as you were about to turn back around to pout about it, a large figure appeared in the corner of your vision. Distracted, you looked over at them and as soon as you realized who you were looking at, your heart seemed to skip a beat. It was the stranger.

She was tall and muscular, most of her body hidden underneath a long red cloak. It was almost impossible to not notice her in the crowd. Now that she wasn’t hidden in the shadows anymore, you got a better look at her face too. Dark hair that perfectly framed her intense, beautiful grey eyes and mysterious scars on the side of her face that seemed to almost glow a faint deep blue.

She was heading from one side of the room back to the dark corner where her companions were still playing cards, her path leading her right past the people sitting at the bar. It seemed like she noticed you staring at her, because her eyes caught yours once again. You held your breath as she held eye contact with you right up until she passed you, close enough that you could almost feel the air between you move. You turned around to watch her walk away, back to where you had first noticed her. To your disappointment, you couldn’t catch her gaze again. Instead, you decided to redirect your attention to the person behind the bar.

“Do you know who that is?” you asked them, practically having to scream over the deafening music, somehow hoping that this person magically knew everyone in their establishment tonight. They looked in the direction you were pointing at.

“Oh, in the corner, playing cards? Who just passed by here?” they replied. You nodded.

“I’m surprised you don’t know that already. Sevika, Silco’s right hand woman?”

You blinked at them, confused. Was this supposed to be common knowledge?

“First time here?” they scoffed. “Do yourself a favor and don’t bother her.”

Another person at the bar called them over to order drinks, but they paused for a second before leaving to do so.

“Someone like you though..” they looked you up and down. “Maybe you’ll be the lucky one tonight.”

You couldn’t help but blush as they left. The ‘lucky one’? did that mean..

“There you are!” you heard one of your friends call out. You quickly spun around and were faced with all four of your friends, looking very happy but also rather dazed.

“Turns out you were right about taking a break. We’re all done for the night too.”

“Wait, already? I thought we could maybe stay a little longer.” you pleaded, eager to find out what that person behind the bar had really meant.

“It’s a little sooner than we would usually leave, but we’re tired. And we’re not leaving you here by yourself.”

You turned back around to look for the stranger again, sadly seeing little more than her outline across the room.

“Fine then, I guess.” you sighed as you got up to leave with them.

The cold outside air hit you hard when you stepped outside, much like the bright lights and loud music of The Last Drop before. You shivered as you made your way back home with your friends, unable to shake the thoughts of the stranger from your mind.

Sevika.

How could it be that you had never heard of her before? Was she at the bar often? Should you go back some time just so you could catch a glimpse of her again? Maybe find out what ‘being the lucky one’ would be like?

“Hey girls, um..” you mumbled as all those thoughts raced through your head. “Maybe.. we could go back there some time?”

Notes: me, checking just how much of this fic was taken from real life: friends ✅, party night with the girls ✅, a few drinks ✅, going wild on the dancefloor ✅, absolutely vibing with the music ✅, flirting with a stranger ✅, the stranger is a hot lady ❎😞

Sadly I wasn’t really dressed to look hot. I was wearing one of my dad’s sweaters for most of the night and to top off the outfit I had a glittery hat lmao

[itsclydebitches]

A lot of people (when they're being generous) call Ironwood a fallen hero. I disagree with that, all nonsense in vol. 8 aside. He's arguably the protagonist for the first seven volumes going by which characters are trying the most to make things happen for the good side. Nothing the teens did had plot-related consequences until they confronted Ozpin in the snow. And even at the end of 7 he was still trying desperately to save people. This is more a fallen story. Do you think he's a fallen hero?

I think he’s a “fallen hero” only in the most technical sense. As in, Ironwood was a hero, now he’s not, but we’re lacking all the literary aspects that make a fallen hero recognizable as a character type. It’s sort of like looking at a glass orb (going with the memes here) and saying, “It’s a ball!” Yes, technically it is a round object when a ball is also a round object and in some circumstances we might indeed call this a ball… but if we’re thinking of “ball” as an object capable of being played with without immediately shattering—if we consider the purpose of this particular type of “ball”—then no, the glass orb is not a ball. Ironwood is only technically a fallen hero. Beyond some surface similarities, he’s not fulfilling a fallen hero’s expected purpose.

For me, part of that lack is the loss of faith. Something is meant to occur that turns the hero from their previously good alignment and sets them on the wrong path, usually a devastating loss (Anakin Skywalker), a newfound belief that bad deeds are the only way to achieve good ends (Count Dooku), or succumbing to the presumably evil nature the character was told they always possessed (Kylo Ren—though his status as a hero is arguable to begin with. I’m not delving into that here lol). The point is that Ironwood never actually turns. He’s on the correct path up until he randomly starts taking evil actions. As discussed, he’s been on the good side for seven volumes. The majority of the actions he took, while morally gray at times, were no better or worse than what our established heroes have done. (Which is the same problem we run into with Ozpin vs. the group: if lying makes you an antagonist because Lying is Bad, why isn’t Ruby one too?) He’s pit against an established villain and ‘gives up his humanity’ specifically in an effort to save everyone else—a classic heroic act. Then the end of Volume 7, while horrifying, was essentially a trolley problem, a situation with no good outcome, thereby ensuring that whatever decision is made—action or inaction—results in an “evil” result. This whole time, within the bounds of RWBY’s world, Ironwood was a hero who, like most others in the story, just had really shitty options. It's the circumstances that are the problem, not his attempts to navigate them.

And then he shoots Oscar.

Many fans pinpoint his “fall” during the shooting of the Councilman, but for me things went off the rails when Ironwood decided to murder a kid (and I’ve gone into how, based on everything he knew about Oscar at the time, he had no reason to think he’d survive that plunge). But the question is, why? We never see the turn, the explanation, for why the hero who just gave his arm for others is suddenly willing to murder an innocent kid (and all the fan headcanons don't change the fact that the explanation does not exist in the canon. Same with Mettle). If Ironwood had actually lost faith in his allies, he wouldn’t have clung so hard to Winter, to the Ace Ops, or spent the whole of Volume 8 trying to get Penny to see his side, ending with him putting a hand on “Penny’s” shoulder and complimenting her on coming back. There was no point where a loss had Ironwood give up on the world; no point where he had a, ‘Fine. You want a villain? I’ll be your villain’ moment and decided to burn it all because fuck trying to fix it. Trying to fix things is all he does, up through pointing his gun at Salem, it’s just that this characterization exists ALONGSIDE the version of Ironwood that shoots kids, murders political figures, and drops bombs, all with no real rhyme or reason to the villainy. As also discussed, none of these choices actually help him achieve anything. They’re stupid, nonsensical, unnecessary acts that exist purely to prove his evilness and once they’re done, Ironwood pops back to being the guy trying to take out the Big Bad. Like one of the heroes.

Looking back, parts of Volume 7 were setting up a Dooku type fall… but then RWBY failed to have Ironwood make the turn. If we wanted a Dooku situation, Ironwood should have turned on his allies, been manipulated into helping Salem instead, and focused all his attention on taking out the “real” enemy of RWBYJNORQ. AKA, something closer to Hazel’s story-line of, “I want a new world order/people who respect me and I’ve been convinced that Salem is the one who can provide that.” Instead, everyone turned on Ironwood long before Salem arrived. He’s the one trying to evacuate people and Relics while Ruby dithers over a perfect solution. He’s the one keeping Salem out of Atlas while RWB sit around in a mansion. He’s the one coming up with the bomb plan while YJR are concerned only with saving a single life and Ruby sends out a, “Someone else help us, please” message. The entire time, Ironwood is the only one actually fighting Salem, outside of the whale where the group is forced to encounter her, but never planned to. It’s really hard to paint this guy as a fallen hero when he’s the only one making attempts against the woman who is, undeniably, the villain of this situation. It’s like if Dooku was focused entirely on taking out the Chancellor, recognizing him as the threat, while Obi-wan and the other Jedi sit around in the temple, not even discussing possible ways to deal with him, just angry that Dooku has come up with a solution they don’t like. Dooku looks a little too much like the hero in this situation, even with a 'But killing the Chancellor would be wrong' message, so better have him murder some random innocents in the hallway to make everyone else look good in comparison. Ironwood is the guy focused entirely on solving the Salem problem while everyone else ignores her, colored by a, 'But leaving people behind would be wrong' message, so he does the occasional murder or torture threat so we remember that the real good guys are sitting around drinking tea. Inaction looks great when pit against a totally random bomb threat, yeah? Ironwood is no longer a good man by the time he dies, but his villainy is oddly separate from the rest of his characterization. He’s not a fallen hero, he’s the same flawed hero he’s been since Volume 2, it’s just now he randomly commits evil deeds because he’s not supposed to be a hero anymore. It… doesn’t really work.

And yeah, all of this is bound up in the fact that our heroes have no motivation. They have no reason to be in this fight. I have no problem with them slowly getting sucked into the war and eventually staying out of a generalized desire to help (that’s by no means a rare plot-line and, when done well, is the best: cough-LotR-cough), but it’s so weird how the story has crafted this young generation vs. old generation fight when the younger generation is not written to be better. Which is supposed to be the crucial difference! Ozpin, Qrow, Glynda, Ironwood, and maybe Theodore had as much of a handle on Salem as anyone has in over a thousand years and then when there was a (big) setback, the next generation swoops in with a, “This is our war now.” Except Ruby has never articulated why she wants to make a difference in this particular, very difficult way. The story has not set up that she is forced to be involved, even with Silver Eyes. No one else has a reason for being here other than, “Well, Ruby is here, so why not?” None of them have come up with better ideas than the grownups that weren’t—and this is crucial—rule breaking ‘solutions’ introduced because the plot needed them to win. And none of them have spent any of their free time trying to fix the problems they’re frustrated by, or forward the war efforts more generally.

Putting aside that it’s just boring to watch, I’m always shocked by the number of times the fandom has justified the group just sitting around: they don’t need to talk about Ozpin’s vision because the farm is stressful and scary, they don’t need to think about the war so long as they’re doing a little huntsmen work, Ren’s such a bore for insisting they train on their night off, they deserve time to recuperate in the mansion while everyone dies outside… The group never wants to lead this fight. Every time there’s a chance to plan ahead, come up with a solution, try to think about this war long-term, they go, “Nah. Let’s just sit around and chill until something forces us to get involved again.” We had a scene this Volume where Ruby literally threw up her hands and ran from the room the second they weren't able to fix things. Which yeah, paints characters like Ozpin and Ironwood as more heroic. Or at least far more level-headed and mature, the sort of characteristics you want in someone leading the world-wide war. They were, at all times, trying to do what they could to help the war effort and help Remnant, even if others didn’t like the ideas they come up with. At least it was something. And at this point fans will usually get angry on the characters’ behalf, talking about how they’re just traumatized kids, how can you expect so much of them? And that’s the point! If they can’t handle this kind of insane responsibility (the thing that was driving Ironwood to punch walls) then why are they in charge? Why are they the heroes? We can’t act like they’re the best for the job and then shrug when they don’t do anything, or simply do a bad job. If that's meant to be the step-up, we needed a situation that forced them into these roles. It sucks that a bunch of traumatized teens that keep messing everything up are the world's only hope, but that's just how it is. Wow, I feel bad for the war and for them because damn, they never asked for this. But Ruby did ask for this. Hell, she demanded it, taking that responsibility by force. So she's very much opened herself up to criticism.

Instead of giving us a story where traumatized kids are forced to save the world, or kids volunteer to save the world and are clearly doing their best under the circumstances, our situation is a group whose efforts only extend to the immediate crisis, whose idealism keeps them from making any sacrifices (even something as simple as sending Weiss to Atlas, or putting the Relic in the vault), and whose suspicion has led them to turn on eight allies since they found out the war was a thing—which wouldn’t be a problem if they weren’t preaching trust and rejecting others for their own suspicions. RWBY started out great, a classic story of the next generation rising up to fight the good fight, but RWBY forgot to take the crucial step of actually making the heroes better than those who came before them. Or even giving them the motivation and the drive to make a difference. For three Volumes now, RWBYJNOR have only helped to clean up the current mess, a mess they’ve usually helped to create. They haven’t done a thing to try and better Remnant in the future, which really colors choices like, "This Ironwood guy is the villain now. You know, the only one who cares that the Big Bad is trying to kill a city full of civilians."

They could have actually made Ironwood disillusioned with the world after everything he's been through, actually only caring about the rich and elite, choosing to use Mantle as bait for Salem so that the "better" half of Atlas can escape with plans to leave Remnant to burn while they prosper in the clouds... it would have been so easy to turn him into the fallen hero the fandom has painted him as. Instead, what RWBY gave us is far, far messier. And you don't even need overly long posts like this one to prove it. The core of Ironwood's characterization is a semblance that doesn't exist in the show. This is not a fall that was well thought out or well executed.

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Kaz Brekker x fem! mute! reader - Dancing eyes

(Image not mine)

A/n: I just thought about this and here we are. Also! I will have at least two more imagines coming out today or tomorrow! I'm also sorry if I offended anyone I really tried to make a good representation of the reader and I did some research but I'm not mute so I don't know exactly what's that's like. So if you guys could tell me if I did anything wrong, just some feedback that would be nice!

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, death, angst, blood, gore, the reader is mute, fluff I think that's it? You have been warned!

Summary: Kaz falling in love with you

(The sign language is in italics bold!)

All rights go to leigh bardugo, netflix, and you! I just own the plot!

She was dancing when he first saw her.

She did a few twirls, her leg went into the air flawlessly into a arabesque to the side. It was powerful and controlled but it was graceful. The girl did a paw de chat and jumped high into the air turning around and landing with one leg behind her perfectly straight and pointed, one leg on the ground and her hands in front of her like she was presenting something to the audience.

The crowd clapped and applauded her but she did not smile, not till she did a low curtsy and while she did her y/c/e orbs meant his. Kaz's breath got lodged in his throat when he saw her beautiful eyes. Then they lit up like all the stars were in her eyes and her lips curved upwards forming a small grin.

Kaz shook his head, she wasn't valuable to the dregs so she wasn't worth looking for, so he turned swiftly on his feet and started walking towards the slat.

But you wish she was.

Kaz started looking for her everyday, and everyday she would be in her spot near the slat doing a dance. Her graceful movements often caught his eye and he would often find himself watching her from his window.

Weak.

But one day something else caught his eye about her, she had enough money for shoes and clothes, it didn't look like the girl ate much, barely enough to keep her alive. Thought still, she bought food.

Or did she?

He observed her in a different way now - for a week and to say the Brekker boy was surprised would be an understatement. The little dancer had been stealing.

Sometimes she would steal food, money, and do a few magic tricks here and there but the thing was he never saw her steal only saw the people leave with empty pockets.

Kaz could admit to himself that she was good, possibly better than him - which was dangerous. But could she kill someone? Maybe he could train her but he found he didn't want to force that upon the girl that danced outside his window everyday. Stealing food, money and even clothes sometimes.

Saints, I'm growing soft. Kaz thought to himself.

The next time he saw her was three weeks later well, the thing is he didn't see her outside his window dancing all day from 6:00pm sharp all the way to 3:30am.

He wondered how the girl slept.

He was limping down a street and he turned a corner only to hear a voice and it wasn't recognizable so he quietly limped over and peaked his head out.

It was the little dancer.

She had a grisha steel dagger pressed up against a man's throat. The man was trembling in fear, and the little kitten that once danced was gone and her claws were coming out.

"Please-please! I did can-can pay-pay you back! Please! I-I know people who-who can help!"

The man looked young but was definitely a sleaze ball, with his brown hair that looked like it was decaying, his round bodice, his fat arms and legs and he retched of alcohol and young girls.

He was nothing compared to the girl.

The tiger had a snarl on her face, but she didn't make a sound as she stabbed the dagger threw his forehead killing him. Then she pulled the knife and grabbed a piece of paper presumably writing something down on it.

She spun on her heels and she faced him.

Shit.

She just blinked at him and made some weird hand movements which Kaz identified as sign language.

Oh he did know what sign language was, he knew how to use it too.

If you wanted a show, you could have just asked dirtyhands.

The girl smiled when he rolled his eyes.

"I don't want a show, but I would like you to join the dregs." He said out loud in a monotone voice. She looked taken aback that he could understand her but she grinned even brighter that he could.

Of course. It's better.

She signs, using just those words and not adding anything else - just it's better. Though he knew actually what she meant.

"What are you. You seem to know your way around here, not to mention the stealing and killing."

I'm a assassin. I Trained somewhere... not in Kerch, and I escaped and went here.

Her signing his precise and graceful almost like her dance movements. She starts to walk away but she pause's and turn's to him.

You can call me Nemesis.

Then she walks away. He didn't even know the time or whether she was even going to show up. He didn't even know her real name - not a single thing about her real identity really.

Only that she dances.

After that day he dreamed of her every night. Sometimes she would be dancing outside or she was working on a job with him. On the occasion he would get a dream about her in a meadow holding up a flower and showing it to someone. But that seemed more like a memory more then anything because she looked younger - a child only five maybe seven.

He longed for the sleep.

Once after a job with the Crows she came to his room and her hair flowed down her back as she climbed into his desk chair while he was on his bed.

He didn't even hear her come into the room.

Writing something down on the paper she turns around and hands him it.

My name is Y/n.

That's when he knew she trusted him.

After that moment they slowly began to come together - slowly but surely. Whether it be a small brush of the hand or full on skin to skin contact they we're there and then they weren't. Technically, they weren't dating - not officially anyways but no one (not even the Crows) could find where Kaz or Y/n began or where they ended. It was like they we're on one big loop, they we're on person yet they we're different.

The first time he kissed her she was coming back from killing someone.

Y/n was his personal assassin, because of that she killed a lot of people and had to be never seen, no evidence, not always clean kills. But Y/n had already admitted to killing many people and she signed that she probably had killed more people in her childhood then he will ever tell her to kill in his lifetime.

So when she came back in tears after a murder he was rightly confused. Her bright y/c/e eyes we're filled to the brim with tears and the eyes that usually danced with emotions were almost dead looking. Though to Kaz they still looked beautiful.

That's not what she needs right now.

Kaz sat on the bed staring at the assassin that stood in the middle of his room, that looked nearly like the little dancer that he once thought she was. But her eyes looked shattered like glass spread across the floor in pieces.

He patted the room beside him on the bed and she reluctantly followed where his hand was and sat down. She kept her eyes cast down, and it killed Kaz to not see those beautiful eyes that danced. The only thing the left of her innocence in his opinion.

With an ungloved hand he lifted her chine up to his and slowly her eyes meant his. Her breath stuttered, she breathed in and started moving her hands using sign language to talk.

There was a child.

She started, always trying to get to the point fast enough.

They went up to me and...

Her hand movements came to an erupt stop and she slowly breathed in a breath preparing.

They called me a monster.

Kaz looks at her and the tears in her eyes. She needs comfort or something at least but he's not so sure he can give her that. He's not sure if he's even ready for that.

Yes you are. And Kaz could finally agree with the voice in his head.

He slowly brought their lips together and brushed them together in sync. He lifted his hand to go to her cheek and he stroked it. They pulled away, it was barley a kiss but it was enough.

"You could never be a monster Y/n." He whispered as their foreheads touched again.

__________TIME SKIP_____________________________________

Knives, arrows, and bullets were flying though the air. Some hitting people and some not. Kaz looked over to Y/n, he knew he shouldn't have brought her on this job.

She had an air of royalty around her, she killed whomever she liked out of the Blacktips.

That's if she granted them mercy.

If she didn't you would die a very painful death. Her hair was blowing in the wind making it look like she was floating, and for all Kaz knew about her, this girl was full of surprise's. She might as damn well been.

Her reflects were quick and graceful but deadly. Just how she dances. He thought. Her eyes were on fire and they seemed to burn everything around them.

She really was a Saint.

Focus. He scolded himself.

You can think about her more later and maybe tell her what you think boy. It was a different voice this time, and it vaguely sounded like his father but he pushed the thought away and kept on fighting.

The heist was over and he looked around for Y/n because usually on mission's like these they would go together and just sit. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes they would just enjoy each other's presences. It was all they needed, just a reminder for them that they we're still alive.

"Did you see Y/n." He said flatly not wanting to seem worried although he really was.

"Ya, I saw her slip away earlier she looked fine." Nina supplied.

He gave her a quick nod and started walking back to the slat. At the least he knew she was fine.

They couldn't find her.

It had been a week and she didn't show up, they were all desperately trying to find the assassin but she was no where to be found. She silent girl was gone, they didn't even know if she was captured or not.

After another week the others had given up saying if their was a lead they would be there. Then Kaz found a note on his desk.

Dear Mr Brekker,

Hello Kaz this is Y/n, so I'm sorry for doing this but it had to be done. I'm not captured no, and I'm safe for now no ones really safe in the barrel. I have many enemies and they will find out you and the Crows are my weakness and I can't have that. You mean so much to me in words I could never describe and it pains me so much to leave knowing - I love you. You are some much stronger than me and a considerably better person then I ever could be although you fight against that statement. You put your Armour down for me and I couldn't do that for you. I'm sorry.

May the stars watch over you,

with love Y/n

Kaz didn't know what to do, Y/n was gone the loop was broken and everything was back to the way it was. He closed his eyes and thought about her eyes - those dancing eyes.

Like for part 2!

Words 1930

-thedeluisonreaderbitch

[hpalways]

Lyrical Mess || Venti

BARD Venti was someone you looked up to. Words would spill from his mouth like a waterfall, for he never ran out of lyrics and rhymes alike to sing about. You aspired to be like him, to one day have talent in bringing people together through music. Unfortunately, your mind was a little underwhelming in the creative department. Phrases and sentences jumbled up like a mess, trapping you in a sea ridden of any motivation whatsoever. 

"The distant lands, the people, the trees, they all truly resonate in me!" he sang, filling your ears of the melody. He was currently sitting on the huge tree in Windrise, rocking back and forth on the branch. Meanwhile, you were on the ground and leaning against the bark, trying to write down anything that could be worth mentioning. However, the page was as blank as it could be, an empty void of nothingness. The quill in your hand shook and squeezed, because the frustration was beginning to take its toll. 

"Venti, I can't think of anything! Don't you have any secrets that could help me?" you whined, pulling the ends of your [h/c] locks. Grabbing the lyre that was brought everywhere with you, you thrummed the strings of it, playing an ugly chord that halted his own singing. The golden instrument glimmered against the sunlight, nearly blinding your eyes. After spending almost all your savings on it one day, it easily became your most treasured item. 

The male leaned forward from the branch, his two aqua ombre braids waving along with the wind. Green eyes on you, they crinkled as he grinned in excitement. In his usual white top and teal shorts with stockings, his style was enough to make him recognizable. Not only that, but he was as adorable as when you first met him. To have him by your side... well, you certainly looked like a nobody. "Well, why are you sitting there on the ground? Come up here and you'll get loads of more inspiration." 

"Really?!" you exclaimed. Your gaze brightened as if you had met God and you quickly scrambled to your feet. He nodded, putting his hands on his hips in pride. "Okay. I'll go join you then." Rolling up the sleeves of your shirt, you knitted your brows together in perseverance. Readying for the climb ahead, you lifted your foot to take that first step. 

Goodbye. You were ready to die. Venti had made it look so easy with those fast and flexible limbs of his, but you were trembling to the core at this moment. The tree was much taller and wonky than you expected, gnarly and dangerous for someone with no balance like you. Panting heavily, you tightened your hold on your lyre as you heaved yourself upwards one last time. You crashed on the spot beside the bard and hit the hollow trunk in annoyance. Flinching at the pain inflicted more-so on you, you rubbed your hands as you tried to settle down. 

The view surely was nice. Mondstadt, the city of Freedom, could be seen from here. Meadows and small hills laid out across the board too, luscious and full of natural beauty. The color of it reminded you of Venti. 

"I can't do this," you groaned, rubbing your face in weariness. "I'm too tired to even think."

"You quit too easily," he said, frowning. Feeling all ashamed suddenly, you drooped your head and sighed. There was nothing worse than getting critiqued by someone you looked up to. "Oh, I know! I have a few other secret spots to show you. What do you say, my friend?"

"Alright. I'll give it another shot."

Before announcing to you what he was about to do, he scooped you up with those nimbly arms of his and jumped straight off from the branch. A scream threatened to leave you, but you kept quiet as you held onto him for dear life. He was crazy! But that might just be the reason why he was so popular in Mondstadt. 

With a thump! at the landing, Venti smoothly reached the ground with two legs still working. Carefully releasing you, he took out his own lyre from under his arm. It could not be said the same regarding you. Wobbly support below, you kneeled down and calmed your racing heart. 

Once you gained your grounding again, that was when it was time to set off. Following the bard on his tail, you watched as the dirt path turned into pavement and then into bricks. "Mondstadt...? Are you sure this will be helpful?" you questioned, squinting at the mundane scene in front of you. Living here your whole life, it was all too familiar for you to believe you'd find anything here. 

"Just trust me, [Y/N]!" he said, turning his head over his shoulder. Giggling softly, he returned to look ahead and marched onward.

You assumed it would be an unknown spot that could exhilarate you instantly. But of course, reality bit the dust. Standing in front of you was the local tavern, crowded of drunken adventurers. "You just wanted to stop by for a drink!" you said, whirling around to glare at the male. 

He stuck a tongue out and winked, leaving you more infuriated. This was the guy you idolized so much? He was such a sham. "Trust me... trust me..." he repeated, pulling your arm with him. The door opened up and he slipped in, with you stumbling after him. His grip never once loosening, he waltzed towards the bartender and dropped coins of mora. "The usual, please!" 

Securing a table to sit at, he set you down and sat directly from you. As you were about to spew words of insult, he beat the punch. 

"I'm serious. This is one of my secret spots," he explained. He nudged his head at the back of the tavern, where an empty space cleared of tables took place. "I sometimes perform here and so whenever I come here, I would get a good amount of ideas."

He had a point. You had been there too when he performed here, intrigued and immersed by a new world introduced by him. Slumping your shoulders slightly, you mutely nodded in agreement, tapping the quill against your chin. He grinned at your reaction, as if he was relieved to have escaped your wrath.

As he sipped his drink in peace, you began to write down some ideas. It was silent at the table, but it was not uncomfortable or awkward. You had known Venti for quite some time... and though you still admired him tons, he became a dear friend. Ink met the parchment and you scribbled them down quickly, as if your life was on the line. This proceeded for a while until he slammed his first empty glass down. When showing the notebook, you fidgeted in your seat as you waited for his thoughts.

"Whisking her away, he drowned the walls. She said he said to come to the dock..." he read it out loud. His features tightened and he let out a nervous laugh. "Um... er... it's not bad... How about this?! Why don't you perform a song from Teyvat! Singing a song always inspires me. You can use the stage over there! I'm sure the customers would love a lovely song sung by the beautiful maiden [Y/N]."

"So it's bad," you deadpanned.

"It's not!" he argued, panic shown in his eyes. "It could use some improvement, but anything can be improve, you know?"

"You don't need to lie to make me feel better," you sighed, pulling yourself up from the seat. Lumbering up to the stage, you strummed the strings of your lyre, catching the attention of a few customers. Breathing in deeply, you closed your eyes and started to sing a song. The song you heard Venti sing a few times. The song your parents sang as they lulled you to sleep. The song that wasn't yours, but everyone's. 

You were a fake. A lyrist who couldn't form her own words. A singer with no direction to turn to. 

When the song ended, a round of applause exploded from the audience who were smiling in approval. They all enjoyed it, except you. Giving them a quick bow with a smile plastered on your face, you then exited the stage and rushed through the tables, passing Venti and straight out the door. Running to the gates and not stopping once until you were out in the wilderness again, you slumped to the ground in shame. Angry tears blurred your vision and you crumpled the poor grass upon your hands. 

"You performed it perfectly..." he whispered, his small figure crouching down next to you. When did he get here? "What's upsetting you?"

"I messed up," you told him, glancing at the lyre in your hands. "I can't do a single thing right."

"No one noticed it."

"But... I did. It doesn't matter if no one else realized it, I know of my mistakes. And I'm so sorry Venti. I've been such a hindrance towards you today. You don't deserve listening to my complaints. Nor do you deserve cleaning after my mess." More tears slid out, slipping down your cheeks. "I just wish I was you."

A thumb swiped the droplets from your face, his skin warm to the touch. Startled, you watched him grow slightly sad. Why was he making that face? It looked so... empty... hopeless. He knew of something you didn't. "You don't want to be me, [Y/N], trust me. And I like you the way you are... so please, don't say that ever again." He straightened up and all traces of any misery was erased from his expression. "Let me cheer you up a bit! I can go sing a tune for you! I think that should do the trick for some inspiration."