#this song actually rips my heart out cause its exactly what happened

[depression-stays-but-you-dont]

Bobby - Bohdi

[thefanficmonster]

I’m Right Here

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Mentions of a car accident (minor), Injuries

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Summary: There is nothing scarier than those moments when every breath you take is shallow; when your heart is racing and your body is drenched in cold sweat. When you are rushing to the aid of a hurt loved one, knowing you can never be fast enough because your mind and fear are at least a mile ahead of you. Corpse has to experience these exact moments after a frightening call that informs him of his girlfriend’s car accident.

Requested by @sugiliteshadow . Hi! Thank you so much for you request, darling. Sorry to be posting it so late and I can’t thank you enough for your patience. I hope the fic itself makes up for the wait. Please enjoy! Stay safe! Love, Vy ❤

It’s been about an hour since I got off the phone with Y/N and my concern is through the roof. She called me from the parking lot of the office building where she works at, telling me she’s be home in less than half an hour and asking if I needed her to pick up anything along the way. I have been trying to brush away the worries, comforting myself with the fact that I did request a specific type of iced tea and knowing Y/N, she’s probably looking for it in multiple stores because she couldn’t find it in the convenience store that’s along her way back home. I should’ve told her not to sweat it considering I don’t need it right away or anything.  I have tried distracting myself with editing just to hinder myself from picking up my phone and debating weather to call her or not. I may be worried but I don’t wanna put her life in danger by calling her while she’s driving.

I keep my hands on my keyboard and mouse, my phone halfway across the room just in case. Another thirty minutes pass by with no sound of the door being unlocked or even a car pulling up. My fingers are beginning to drum over the buttons on my keyboard anxiously. I have had to go back and redo so many things with the video I’m editing because my mind simply isn’t present. It’s wandering around the city, looking for that one familiar car that’s always outside our house, parked in the driveway. That’s currently being driven by my girlfriend of two years Y/N.

My phone’s ringtone snaps me out of the downwards spiral of my thoughts, simultaneously picking up the speed of my heartbeat. I basically launch myself out of my chair and towards the bed where the ringing is coming from. I feel a wave of relief rush over me when I see Y/N’s name on the lit screen.

“Hey babe, where have you been?“ I ask as soon as I answer the call. It feels like my whole body shuts down when I finally pick up on the sound of blaring sirens in the background.

“Sir, I’m sorry to inform you Miss Y/L/N has been in an accident.” The words the female voice on the phone says cut through me like a knife, sending chills of paralyzing fear all over my body, “You were the last person she contacted before the accident which is why we’ve stepped in contact with you. However, if you are not able to come collect Miss Y/L/N, please contact a family member of hers.“

The calmness of her tone is freaking me out of my skin and mind, “Is she ok?! Where is she?!“

“She’s alright, sir. She’s not completely conscious yet, though. But she will be by the time you arrive. Her injuries are not in any way life-threatening. She has a few cuts and bruises and a concussion. A medical team has already taken care of her.“

Before I know it, I’m already out the door, the location the policewoman gave me in my head as I get behind the wheel of my car which I rarely use. Thankfully, the road the accident happened on is less than fifteen minutes away. Due to the late hour there is close to no traffic on the roads so I make it to the scene in no time.  Y/N’s car is surrounded by two cop cars and two ambulances. I barely even notice the black Honda Civic that is almost equally as beat up as Y/N’s Toyota. Speaking of the Toyota, its front bumper is completely obliterated - the headlights, blinkers and windshield in pieces and shards on the pavement. 

In the first ambulance there’s a guy passed out on a gurney with an ivy rip connected to his arm. In the one next to it is Y/N, sitting hunched over with her head hanging low, her hair falling over her face. 

“Y/N?“ I rush over to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder but withdrawing my arm in case she has a bruise in that spot.

She lifts her head, a look of relief and happiness flashing across her face. She lets out a sigh, a small smile appearing on her lips as her eyes fill with tears. “Corpse...” her hand reaches out for mine which is still hanging in the air. I give her my other hand and she uses me as support to slowly stand up. She lets go of my hands and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug as a quiet sob leaves her chest. “I was so scared when I woke up. I couldn’t remember anything.”

“It’s ok, you’re ok now. I’m here, I’m right here.“ I gently smooth her hair while carefully holding her in my embrace. She has a few purple bruises along her arms and cuts on her cheek and neck which are covered in white bandages with small dark red stains. The most major thing I can see is the cut on her left temple which is also covered up. I press a tender kiss to the right one. “Are you in any pain?“ I pull away to get a better look at her.

Thankfully she shakes her head, “No, I’m ok. My elbow hurts a little but that’s it.”

I nod, moving a strand of hair behind her ear, kissing her forehead. Just as I’m about to ask her what exactly happened one one of the police officers approaches us.

“A drunk driver. He ran the red light and crashed straight into her car.“ The officer says, judging by her voice it’s the same woman that called me. “You don’t remember that, do you?“

Y/N turns to her, “I just remember hearing a loud crash and then darkness. I didn’t know what had happened until you told me when I woke up.”

The policewoman gives us a sincere smile, lightly touching Y/N’s shoulder “It’s ok, sweetheart. You are alright, that’s what matters. And you have someone here by your side.”

Y/N’s eyes meet mine when she gives me the most loving glance, the one that I often catch in her eyes - the one that always melts me. “He always is.” she says, running her fingers down my arm, interlocking hers with mine when they reach my hand.

The policewoman tells us good night and walks over to the other ambulance. We stick around to see the cars get taken away and Y/N gives her info so they can contact her when the car is repaired. I know how much she loves that car - it’s the first and only car she has ever owned. She has had it for about seven years and calls it her child basically. I never thought I’d be jealous of a car in my life - just kidding. But my point has been made - she’s never been apart from it or driven another car.

Wrapping my arm around her while she watches her car being taken away, I turn her around, leading her towards my car. “Let’s get you home. You’ll be 100% under my care and no complaints will be accepted.”

She rolls her eyes playfully, snuggling up into my side, “Don’t make a big deal about this please. And, for the love of God, don’t baby me too much, ok?”

I grin down at her, “What was that, I didn’t quite catch it?“

“Corpseeee...“ She pouts, a frown on her face, making her look so childish it’s absolutely adorable.

“Save the whining, it ain’t gonna work.“ I open the door to the passenger seat, stepping aside so she can get in the my car.

Surprisingly enough, she actually doesn’t complain the rest of the way home nor when we arrive. Nor when I instruct her to stay in bed and not move unless it’s absolutely necessary. I basically bring all the snacks from the kitchen into our room while she compiles a list of movies we will be watching because no sleep will be had tonight.  “I love you.“ Y/N says through a sigh halfway through the second movie.

“I love you too. But don’t fall asleep.“ I tickle her side, causing her to giggle and squirm in an attempt to get away from me.

“Ok, ok, but you’re gonna have to help me. If I blink, I’ll be a goner.“ She yawns, shuffling back towards me. When she flashes me that hinting wide smile, I know exactly what she’s insinuating.

I sigh, giving in with ease. “When you were here before...“

“Couldn’t look you in the eye...“ she backs me up just as I knew she would

“You’re just like an angel...“

“Your skin makes me cry...“

Needless to say, we end up duetting random songs - rap songs, heavy metal, pop songs, some of my songs, some Christmas songs, Disney songs - making it one of the best movie marathons we’ve ever had, the unfortunate events of the day far behind us and completely gone from our minds.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams  @the-fuck-up-of-today  @chiefwombathoagiepizza  @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @symphony-butterfly  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @baby-iyania  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @pinkhairedsapphic  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap  @maybe-im-dead-idk  @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade  @chaoticgayandnerdy  @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @strawberrycheesecakekenzistuff  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @amysingh2512  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @faepetersen  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr

[kurlyfrasier]

Love Unknown (Part 1)

My dearest, most patient Nonny (you know who you are). I give you; PART ONE of your request. I hate that you’ve had to wait such a ridiculously long time for your request, so I thought I’d go ahead and give you the first bit. I hope you enjoy! Also, you never specified if you wanted the Reader and Raph to be in a relationship already so I hope you don’t mind that they are not in one at the moment.

Pairing: Raph x Reader

The Request (includes obvious warnings): its about angst, (spoiler), fight, blood and (spoiler again). ok, raph had a fight with reader so he say bad things to her, so he listens music (ZAYN & Sia - Dusk Till Dawn) because he was sad and crying but she could never hate raph, so after raph... (I’m leaving this part out of the request so there’s not so many spoilers) ....so he goes to reader and they make up. (possible trigger warning in tags that I took out of this request; may have to expand tags to see it)

A/N: I actually don’t watch any of the TMNT series’ so I know nothing about Destructor X (I’m assuming that’s who you wanted as the villain. I had to look it up). So, I took the liberty of changing the villain to one I know a tiny, itty bitty bit more about. I sincerely apologize if this ruins it for you. Also, this is a first draft.

Disclaimer: I own no TMNT anything, nor do I know any NYC geography, song belongs to Zayn & Sia, and last - but not least - Nonny owns this lovely, specific request! Honestly, I could do SO MUCH with this and it was hard to choose how to go about it. Last thing, I promise: If anyone thinks of a better title, PLEASE SHARE IT cuz I am terrible at coming up with titles.

Word Count: 1189

Raph fell onto his bed with a loud huff, body trembling from the hours-long workout he just finished. Yet, he was still angry - at himself more so than you. The words he spouted at you in a jealous rage- He shook his head, barely hearing the music blasting through his overly-large headphones as he recalled you wrestling with Mikey. His hand hovered, prepared to rip his headphones off, when the song changed to one you must have added to his playlist. You always did silly things like that; instilling bits of yourself into the turtles lives. They all loved it. 

Especially him. 

Especially on the days when you weren’t able to come visit.

Today had not been one of those days, but he had ruined it minutes into your visit.

His arm landed heavily next to him. Savoring the song, he closed his eyes. Unable to stop himself from falling for you even harder than he already had. A tear escaped, sliding down his cheek. Everything about the song reminded him of how he wished he could be with you. How he wanted to be there with you from dusk to dawn. How he wished to watch the sunrise with you. How he wished he had the right to touch you as the song implied.

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

“Something’s wrong,” Donnie whispered to Leo, pointing to a large screened device as Raph walked into the dojo, ready for patrol. “Her phone suddenly disconnected and I can’t pinpoint her on the GPS.”

Raph froze at his brother’s words, stomach sinking. He had a gut feeling they were talking about you. 

“Has she ever turned off her phone before?” Leo asked quietly, voice calm.

“Never,” Donnie emphatically shook his head, looking more worried by the second. “I’ve explained to her that she has to make sure her phone never dies and she nevers turns it off. Otherwise, if something happens…” He let the sentence hang.

“It’s possible (Y/n) forgot to charge her phone and-”

“That wouldn’t happen Leo!” Donnie whisper-shouted, shooting daggers at their brother. “She’s more responsible than that.”

“I know, I know,” Leo raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll go check her apartment and make sure everything’s okay.”

“What about R-”

“Don’t say anything until I get back,” Leo turned on his heel to find the very brother he was hoping to avoid, eyes widening slightly before forcing a neutral expression once more.

“Where ya goin’?” Raph asked, feigning nonchalance. Inside, he was raging, blood deafeningly pumped through his veins.

“Just getting some fresh air before we head out on patrol, is all,” he lied, making his way out of the dojo.

“I call bull,” Raph stated, eyes cold as he challenged their so-called leader, grabbing his brother’s arm in a vice-like grip. “What’s going on,” he growled out.

“It could be nothing, Raph. Calm-”

“(Y/n)’s phone is off,” Leo snapped his head in Donnie’s direction to find him marching their way. “Last I saw, she was headed East on Michigan Avenue.”

“When?”

“A couple of hours ago-”

“And you didn’t think to wake me!?” Raph released Leo to shake some sense into Donnie. He may have been a genius, but he could be a real dunce sometimes. “What if somethin’ happened to her! Huh!? What then!?”

“I thought-”

“It don’t matter what ya thought, Donnie!” Raph roared, shoving his brother away, causing him to stumble to the ground.

Next thing Raph knew, he and his brothers were topside, rain beating down on them in torrents as they headed East on Michigan, but he didn’t feel the cold. His only thoughts were of you; your scent, your hair, your laugh, that spark in your eye when you were up to something - or angry, now that he thought about it. Point was, if anything happened to you… he would never be able to forgive himself. Heck, he wasn’t sure he would live. You were his sunshine on his darkest days, the one thing he looked forward to most was seeing your smiling face. Not that you knew this, especially after your fight earlier in the day. 

One thing he knew for certain, on top of all that, was that he would never deserve you.

He was a monster. Something he proved all too well earlier that day and he wouldn’t be at all surprised if you hated him for it. Even he knew that he blew up for no good reason. 

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

You were drenched, and not from the sprinkle of rain that hit you- how long ago was it now? You didn’t know. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. The warm, thick liquid dripped down your temple from the last blow Karai had given you with the butt of her tanto blade. Eyes closed, you let out a groan, head pounding from the memory.

They had left you; the lowly Foot Clan soldiers and Karai, but you knew they’d be back for more. Considering how silent you were about the turtles whereabouts, you basically guaranteed yourself a nice, long torture. Karai just had to go get her ‘tools’, as she called them. Personally, you thought her fists, feet, and tantos were enough. 

Opening your eyes, you sought a way to escape. Not that you had any luck so far ridding yourself of the deadly tight ropes tying you to the hard, metal chair you sat in. Still, the thought of escape had you squinting into the darkened room. The only light was when lightning struck in the sky, seeping through the windows close to the ceiling. There were a few open, allowing the booming thunder to roll easily to your ears and rain to drip down the walls. Stacks of boxes surrounded you. If they weren’t too terribly heavy, you might be able to move a stack to create a makeshift staircase to the windows. You wriggled, but it only seemed to tightened the ropes at your wrists and ankles.

With a deep breath you thought of Raph. He was your best friend. If you were to die tonight you hoped he knew you didn’t hate him. Knowing him, that’s exactly what was running through his head. He was so passionate about everything he did. He felt everything so much more than you did, it seemed. Except for maybe one thing; your love for him. Nothing he ever did or said would ever turn your heart away from him. Granted, you did wonder what shot him off this time. He almost never took his anger out on you unless you did something dangerous; like try to follow him on patrol or go through dark alleys or- Well, the list went on. You did like pushing his buttons, but you liked how much he worried over you even more. 

The small smile that crept onto your lips faded the moment Karai slammed open the door, making a grand entrance with a wheeled table covered in objects that reflected the bit of light that now lit the room, giving it an almost romantic glow. It was a small fight to stop the laugh that bubbled in your throat.

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

Part 2

[kyojuuros]

I'm the one who wrote you the anon message regarding my feelings with the manga feeling like a 'rush job' despite being fine with the conclusion. Thanks for your response. I'm going to be brutally honest and say everything after chapter 106 (the War for Paradis arc), IMHO, should've gone differently in certain ways. For starters, it was WAY too long (33 chapters) and could've used more breathing room by splitting it into two and then start with a completely NEW arc that would've been DEVOTED....

to addressing ALL the plot points and possibly leading to a more satisfactory conclusion. Eren's character arc was fine but, IMHO, needed better build up, a long with a better conclusion with more focus on him in the REAL world, his REAL persona, and not the hard-ass act and Path shenanigans. The manga has a dark setting and it's suppose to be sad/tragic/depressing/heart wrenching but I don't like a terrible terms he left with friends, Hange and Levi. I'm sorry but there's really no excuse.

I bolded the part that really stood out to me because I feel exactly the same way. I don’t think making his thoughts and feelings a total mystery while completely turning him into someone who feels totally different from the pre-basement portion of the series was a good move, like, AT ALL. It’d be like if Star Wars was presented in chronological order (and let’s say you don’t know who Darth Vader is when you start) and saw Anakin and Padme get married, and then ~time skip~ to him attacking Padme and Obi-wan and becoming Darth Vader... and only seeing his descent to the dark side just before he sacrifices himself for Luke.

People who’ve followed me for a long time know I used to be a lot more involved in the meta community and I was always theorizing and making long-ass posts about character arcs and relationships and predictions on what I think is going to happen. It was a lot of fun and even if I wasn’t always correct, I was never so far off that it actually made me upset (or if I was, it was warranted and even comical... I used to think the Beast Titan wasn’t a shifter and that there was an underground tunnel that lead outside the walls lol). I think the last extensive meta/prediction I had written was after chapter 112 had published, and once I realized that I apparently had no fundamental understanding of Eren at all anymore I completely stopped trying. It wasn’t fun anymore. I didn’t appreciate that I could no longer understand my favorite character (of all time, at the time). 

But then I think back and I’m like, no... I did understand Eren. I understood him just fine before the time skip and that’s why everything after Marley frustrated me to no end because it was like he’d been ripped away from me and replaced with a fraud. I couldn’t even cry about his death because I’d become so emotionally removed from him by that point that it didn’t even matter to me anymore (and this is coming from someone who would cry about him a lot just listening to song lyrics or getting lost in thought or rambling with friends). It continues to frustrate me because I still love him as a character, and I don’t need to defend him (there is nothing defendable) but I wish I could feel confident in at least explaining his actions properly. I don’t mind that he became the antagonist, I just hate that I continue to feel like I can’t understand why.

I think that, had Isayama just told his story chronologically, and kept us privy to Eren’s POV, that we would have understood better. Seeing him descend into the darker side of himself would have made much more sense if we had actually witnessed it in real time. Giving us a random flashback here and there, barely getting his thoughts at all, and having the most underwhelming info dump in the final chapter (that STILL didn’t even clear things up properly, it just added MORE damn questions) was terrible for his character and the overall narrative. A character that used to give me so much hope (and I was in a very dark headspace when I stumbled upon snk) became a character that just made me feel disappointed.

Rambling over Eren aside, I also agree that the final arc should have been chopped up into 2 or more arcs (I generally treat the rumbling as its own arc at this point anyway). We should have gotten more from Historia. Levi should have interacted more with the 104th. We should have been able to see Hange blossom into their own as a confident commander (and not get killed just to make Armin commander for 5 minutes???). Armin and Annie’s feelings toward each other should have been explored more. Eren developing romantic feelings for Mikasa should have been explored more. Mikasa and the entire Azumabito/Hizuru subplot should have actually amounted to... literally anything. Ymir having a connection to Mikasa should have been explored much more (especially with the revelation that this was the most likely cause of the headache’s Mikasa has had since the 2nd chapter). I’m sure there’s plenty of other things I could think about that needed addressing, tbh. 

The story feels concluded but incomplete, if that makes sense. The themes were wrapped up and are easy to pinpoint and that’s good and all, but for a story that’s very character driven to not have properly built up/wrapped up certain arcs, relationships and character-centric plot points just makes it feel hollow. So I understand why a lot of people are very frustrated and upset and ready to put the story on the shelf never to be touched again.

I’m trying to give Isayama some grace since he admitted the scope of the story was beyond his ability as an author. I just wish that instead of barreling forward with a narrative that he knew he couldn’t execute properly, he would have reconsidered the trajectory of the plot altogether and written something that he knew he could feel confident in. I can think of many ways the story could have gone post-basement that would have been both more interesting and probably more satisfying, regardless if the ending was dark, bittersweet or happy.

It’s a story I’ll read and watch again, many times, I’m sure. I’m still looking forward to part 2 of the final season. I still want to make content for it. I still want to buy and display merchandise of it. I still love these characters and the world Isayama created. I appreciate and treasure all of the joy SnK has brought me over the years. I just... disagree heavily with his narrative choices in the final arc. I’d like to think that MAPPA will somehow execute it a little better (there are things WIT did that I liked better, though they did I things I also liked less, lol), but I’m not going to get high hopes just to get let down again. 

.... It appears I have pent up my frustrations a bit in an effort to maintain a positive presence. LOL

[blueprint-han]

stay tonight — bang chan.

↪ why, you must be in love, then. oh trust me, i know.

— new years’ with Chan is spent confessing known feelings to each other and getting back at him for what he did to you on your first date.

pairing: chan x (gn) reader [while this was written with a fem reader in mind, i do think this can be read with a gender neutral perspective]

genre: fluff.

⇥ warnings: nothing at all! a little bit of kissing here and there, but this is completely sfw.

word count: 2.6 K

type: drabble. 

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Bang Chan, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

song: this was inspired by Stay Tonight by Chungha! Highly recommend listening to it when reading this fic <3

↯ note: This is actually shit™ because I was very writers blocky with this fic and had to rewrite it many times to develop a decent plot </3 still, hope you have a lovely Christmas! 🥰 Happy reading <3 this isn’t very well edited so please excuse any errors <//3 ⇥ dawn.☀️

“You know you’re not supposed to be sitting there, right?” 

You straighten up and turn around at the familiar sound that rings through your ears, content when it’s exactly who you wish to see standing there. The smile exchanged between the both of you is simple, sweet and relaxing as you get off where you’re seated on the compound of the building. Walking towards him, your hands go around his waist and he chuckles in response. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You revert back. “I was just about to call you.”

Chan quirks a brow at you, silently grabbing your hand and leading you to the two random chairs placed at a convenient angle — one where you can both bask in each other’s presence and do some stargazing at the same time.

“Why? Did you miss me that much?” His tone is very cocky at the moment, and it makes you want to kiss that stupid grin off his lips. Sadly, he knows you well enough to know that such comments only fluster you when spoken — and that’s exactly what happens — you feel yourself go warm from the inside, a dizzy expression taking over your face as you sit next to him.

Love. The first time you’d encountered the term was in first grade — yet you’re almost certain it’s nothing like what you feel when he’s around you. This kind of love is different — it’s special. It’s the kind of love that causes a fiery sensation to bubble through you when you spare as much as a glance at him, yet it’s also the kind that keeps you calm and running like the waves washing against the shore of a golden beach. 

You can’t put words to explain what love means after you met Bang Chan. It’s more than just a feeling or sensation — it’s like the warmth that flows through your insides when you sip on hot chocolate during cold winters, it’s when your whole life turns into shy smiles, delicate giggles and nervous glances exchanged towards each other. That could perhaps, only outline what you felt around him.

A small tug on your lips and flutter of your eyelashes is all it takes before Chan places his warm hand over your own, lacing fingers together as his thumb runs over the soft skin of your hand. There’s no need for words right now — just soft gazes lingering on each other and the chill air that clouds itself around you, making you yearn for the warmth that you know only Chan can provide.

You take a brief moment to let your eyes quickly run over Chan’s features — his black hair falling over his temples, his eyes peering into your own, his lips slightly parted open. He hasn’t taken the face chain off, yet. He looks like he’s taking you in too, and you want this moment to freeze right here. Because the way Chan’s looking at you right now almost sweeps you off your feet.

But of course, there’s your goofy side coming out when the feeling gets to the point where all you wanna do is just lean in and close the gap between the both of you.

“Close your mouth, mister.” You give him the most obscene-looking pout ever. “I know I’m too pretty to resist.” That (very cringy statement), paired with a wink thrown with each eye causes Chan to break eye contact from you and start laughing, hysterically.

“Y/N.” You can’t even see his eyes because of the tiny™ crescents that have taken their place. “What, in the name of lord, was that?” Chan clutches his stomach, his loud giggles very prominent in the quiet surroundings around you.

“Oh, come on, it’s the end of year. There should be harmony—” The last word is in a singsong voice, spreading your arms out to enhance the dramatic tone. “— everywhere possible. You just can’t appreciate my comedy.”

Chan only coos at you, leaning in to kiss your cheek ever-so-lightly before giving you the most beaming smile you’ve ever seen. He pinches where your cheeks feel hot. “Yes my little comedic genius, you’re adorable.”

“You love it.”

You pout at him, and Chan immediately leans in, cupping your cheeks and squishing them together before kissing the pout right off your face. He pecks lightly once, twice, thrice before pulling away, eyes glittering under the stars — you could see a whole universe in his orbs, and they seemed to be dragging you in.

You’d met — no, you’d properly seen Bang Chan for the first time when you passed by him in the MNET Countdown for their Miroh comeback. You’re forgetful enough to not remember what song you were promoting at that time, but you do remember bowing down at all the members of Stray Kids multiple times as you exited the stage. It was also the time you felt that tug on your heart’s strings, all because Chan’s lips pulled into a smile when his eyes fixated on yours. 

You’re again, forgetful enough to not remember anything about your surroundings, but you do remember staring off into his brown eyes, even if it were for a mere second — yet it felt like you were swept off your feet. You do also remember when Chan reached out for your shoulder, and you froze. You weren’t capable of words as Chan brushed off a piece of tinsel off your top; throwing you a beaming smile.

“T-thank y-you,” You remember saying, stuttering, rather. You could feel his radiance clouding your brain as you scrambled along your route, trying to calm yourself down of that unfelt rush of emotion you’d just felt. The loud applause and the bustling crowd, the members singing their parts of the song, the other groups making their exit — you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on anything except that smile. Those eyes that crinkled into the finest of crescents, that flash of his dimples that softened your heart and then that final brush of his fingers against your shoulder, enough to take your breath away.

Call you lovestruck, but Bang Chan had you in his grasp the moment he laid his eyes on you.

The second time you met Bang Chan was again, at a show, but this time. You were an MC instead of a performer. You don’t need to dwell on the lot of details again, but you can still feel that shock wave that ripped through your fingers when Chan borrowed the mic from you. Your fingers only barely touched, yet you could feel all the blood rush to your face in that very moment, biting your lip slightly as you allowed him to do the talking.

You did pray and hope that he, or anybody else for that matter, didn’t notice how red you were, because hell that was embarrassing. 

“You look at him like he’s an anime character come to life.” Ah, typical friends. Using your love for anime boys to tease the way you kept blushing every time Chan even so happened to walk past you. 

Of course, by the third week of this happening, you were almost certain you’d fallen head over heels for the man — that man who you’d never talked to before, if you didn’t count the awkward hellos and bows you’d shared. You didn’t understand why or when or how he managed to catch your attention so much — all you knew was that you were hurled headfirst into the vortex of love, and you were only plunging deeper and deeper in, with no way out.

But did you want a way out?

“I can feel you staring.”

Oh shit. You awkwardly straighten yourself before shifting your gaze two degrees to the side. Chan’s dorm (he’d made sure all the boys were out) was a less-than-ideal-location for a first date, but being an idol has its own repercussions, you like to believe. 

“Y/N!” He exclaims, giggling at you as he shakes your arm, like he’s trying to pull you out of a trance or something. It only makes you very obviously shy of the fact that he’s caught you red-handed.

“I have something for you…” He drags, his eyes looking curiously into yours, scanning for a response. Your own widen and a smile takes over your lips — you don’t care about the gift in all honesty, just the fact that he thought of getting you something for something like a first date warmed you up.

“What could that be, hm?”

“Wait here.”

He runs into his (shared) room and you hear sounds of him rummaging through something, and he returns with a small object in his hand. You try to get a glance at it but his hand is covering it up majorly, and he cheekily smiles as he sits in front of you.

“Close your eyes.” He says in that adorable, pouty voice that can have you do almost anything for him. Sure, this is your first date, but it took you two weeks after the confession to clear up your schedules and set a timing and place for you to meet up.

“Channn, just show it already!” You counter, groaning at his secretiveness.

“Nope, you’ll have to close your eyes.” 

If he wasn’t so freaking adorable, you’d have snatched that thing from his hand, owing to the amount of curiosity you had.

“Ugh, okay fine.” You squeeze your eyes shut, sighing when you feel Chan’s soft hand engulf your own before placing something cold and… is that plastic?

You open your eyes to look at the small, rectangular object in your hand.

“A cassette tape?” You raise an eyebrow — not mockingly, but rather in a questioning way. As far as you remember, cassettes weren’t something used regularly to play music. 

“Mhm, we had a lot of time before our first date, you know? So I thought I’d try to make it special.”

“Awh, how are we gonna play this?”

“Behind you.” 

You frown, turning behind you to look at the massive, ancient cassette-player sitting on a table.

“How did I just notice that now?” Chan shrugs. 

“Let’s l-listen to it then.” A small smile graces your lips.

And of course, you were crying by the end of the tape.

You do remember the contents of the tape. It had four songs — all of which were supposedly written for you — you didn’t bother to ask, but the mere thought of him going through all that to record and immortalize them into a tape had you touched.

The thought invokes a heavy feeling of nostalgia — suddenly you wanna go back in time, one year ago on your first date, just to relive the experience. Looking at Chan has always made you want to give everything you could to the man — yes, he was handsome, he was pretty, but moreover you could never, ever get over how much of a kind hearted and empathetic man he was. He’d pulled you out of your most vulnerable state and shown you how the true world was really like — filled with love, joy and exhilaration.

“Hey.” You hear the whisper and shake yourself out of your thoughts. “It’s thirty seconds to midnight. They’re gonna release the fireworks.”

A nod, and the both of you rush to move to the edge of the compound and gaze at the night sky.

“Don’t you think they’ll be looking for us below?”

“Nah, I told Hyunjin and Jisung where I’m going, they’ll take care of it.” Like usual, he intertwines your fingers together once again, looking up at the sky and then at his watch. You only giggle at his words, nodding before leaning to rest your head against his shoulder.

“Twenty seconds.”

This was it. In twenty seconds, the year would come to an end — while all the memories you’d made with Chan, and everyone for that matter, would remain, a small part of you would miss this year and all it’s days. Yet, you could be either excited for the year that was to come, or be sad that an amazing one was going to end — and you were leaning towards the former.

“You know,” You feel a sudden burst of emotion cutting through you — almost like you’re starting to tear up. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m-I’m really glad I met you.” 

The bustling of the city grows louder, and you can hear the collective chats echoing throughout the space.

Chan isn’t amused, but you can tell he’s taken aback by the sudden vocalization of your thoughts, especially when you tend to keep yourself on the more silent side.

“O-Oh…” 

You smile, still holding his hand when you turn to face him and he does the same, eyes filled with curiosity, a hint of confusion, but he nonetheless let’s you speak. 

“I don’t know, every time I look at you, I just think about — how grateful I am to have you standing next to me like this. And I might sound a little cheesy or dramatic here, but I’m really, so happy when I’m with you — you really make me smile without doing anything, you make me feel safe and it’s just… you’re so special to me.” 

Perhaps it’s just the sudden surge of emotion you feel when you look into Chan’s eyes, but you can’t seem to stop yourself from saying anything. The words just spill out and string themselves into a confession that leaves Chan breathless.

A soft sniffle leaves your lips and Chan’s eyes gloss over too, he silently brushes his thumb under your eyes to collect the tears that fall out. 

The loud sound of ringing resounds throughout, signifying that there’s only ten seconds left. The chants pour in, one by one. Ten, nine, eight, seven…

Chan really doesn’t know why he’s gotten emotional over a small confession, but to him it feels like a weight lifted off his shoulders. Not that he had any doubt in the first place, but the reassurance you give him is more satisfactory than anything he’s ever felt. While Chan knows you’re happy being with him (and vice versa), moments like these are what make your relationship lively and exciting, joyous.

Six, five, four.

“Why, you must be in love, then, Y/N.” He feels himself say. You look up to him and your eyes meet and it feels like a world’s united together. You love him, he loves you, and tonight, that is all that matters.

Three, two…

“Oh trust me.” You say, and at that moment, you hear nothing, except for the thudding of your quickened heartbeat and Chan’s voice catching in his throat. “I know.”

One.

You barely notice the luminescent firecrackers that start bursting behind and all around you high up in the sky when Chan’s gentle grip on your cheeks tightens and he pulls you in, chest crushing against yours as his lips engulf your own in one of the warmest, softest kisses you think you’ve ever received.  

Because in the end, this is where you like being the most — in his arms, feeling his presence beside you building your confidence. You think it’s destiny, it’s fate how the both of you seem to click so much and fit with each other so well — indeed, you’re in love with Bang Chan. Because with the start of the new year,  you can feel yourself forgetting about everything negative, everything except the light of your life, him. Your thoughts are fuzzy but still coherent, and you want to drown yourself in everything Chan, Chan, Chan.

When you pull away and rest foreheads against each other, finally, it all seems peaceful. There’s the distant chattering from below, but you and Chan are trapped in your own world to notice that.

“Happy New Year…” It’s a tiny whisper, yet you catch it quite easily.

“Happy New year,” you say, smiling at him lovingly before pecking his lips, leaning into his chest and humming when his hands wrap around your shoulders, engulfing you in warmth. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

You smile to yourself. In your head, you know what you’re gonna do is half to revive past memories and half because you want to get back at Chan for almost making you cry on that first date with his dimpled smile and his thoughtful gift.

“I have something for you.” You playfully word, feeling that wave of nostalgia hit you when Chan raises an eyebrow.

“I thought we didn’t get each other gifts for new years.”

“Yeah, but this is special. Close your eyes.” Chan does as you say, though reluctantly, holding himself back from tangling his fingers with yours again. You snicker at how he bites his lips and stiffens his fingers, leaning to press a soft kiss into his palm before placing the gift.

Chan frowns and opens his eyes to peer into your own, fiddling with the cassette tape in his hand.

“A cassette tape?” he probably doesn’t remember in explicit detail, but you try not to laugh at how he mimics the exact same way you acted on the first date.

“Yeah, it’s something I made for you.”

“Oh,” He looks at you sweetly, making your heart swell as you nod in agreement. “I’ll listen to it when I get home, we have the cassette player there.”

You shake your head. “Mhm, nope! Lucky for you, I contacted the right people so you could listen to it.”

Chan raises both his eyebrows in amusement, chuckling to himself as he turns in the direction you point.

“Behind you.”

And just like the old times, that cassette  player was still there. It had taken you a whole two trips to McDonald’s to convince Minho to help you sneak it in, but if it all worked out, everything was set.

“How did I just notice that now?” Chan seems amused at the level you’ve gone to present your gift, and a tiny bit mellow at your actions.

And this time, you were the one who had him tearing up by the end of the night.

*:･ﾟ✧ find the other fics here ! ​

[glxssylaufey]

Mischief Maker - Chapter 2

a/n: i’m sorry this is a bit longer than usual ahh! i also apologize if the writing is a little bad or if there’s any mistakes, i tried my best :) also i apologize if you’re not on the taglist, it didn’t let me tag some of you. anyways, enjoy!

summary: loki x reader ; The time has come to attend Stark’s party. How will the reader handle Loki’s mischief?

word count: 5,156

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of bullying, language, slightly spicy hehe

taglist: @alex-sulli @delightfulheartdream @mademoiselledubois @destructivebliss @kingtwhiddleston @madcrazy50 @rachel-voychuk

It was no secret that Tony Stark loved to make a grand entrance to everything he does. This morning was no exception. The time was around 8:15 when Tony practically kicked your door down to rip your blinds open. Sometimes you almost felt as if he was just another father figure in your life.

“Rise and shine!” he announced, forcing sunlight into your room. “We have a big day today, Y/N, c’mon!” he spoke as he continued to shake you awake. You lazily blinked open your eyes, groaning when Tony ripped your blankets from you. You already knew what he was here for.

“Alright, whatcha got for me?” Tony asked as he looked for the paintings he had requested the night before. You sighed.

“A headache, that’s what I have for you.” you replied, shoving your face back into your pillow.

“No, you’re not allowed to have a headache.” he simply stated. “Let me guess, you don’t have any paintings picked out?” You sat up on your bed, rolling your eyes when you saw Tony standing in the middle of your room with his arms crossed like a child.

“I can pick some out in literally five minutes, Tony, just let me wake up.” you said waving your hand at him, hoping he’d be satisfied with your answer.

“Yeah? Well make it quick, I don’t have all day.” he argued, walking towards your door. “By the way, breakfast is ready.” Tony said in a sing-song voice before leaving your room. You simply hummed in response, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Today was going to be difficult, you already knew. Even though you were agreeing to spend your time with bidding paintings at the party, you still had your heart set on sneaking Loki in somehow. You were just stumped on how you would get that to happen.

~

After a morning of much needed breakfast, you got ready to face the day. Tony had asked both you and Natasha to go to the store to pick up a long list of supplies for the party. So there you stood, scanning the store’s large selection of alcohol bottles, not knowing which one Tony would want.

“What does he have on the list?” you ask, turning to Nat. She quickly scanned through the dramatically large catalog and shrugged.

“Just whatever looks good, I guess.” she replied before looking back to the shelves. Without another word, Natasha settled for three huge bottles of vodka. You don’t argue, seeing as you were just as clueless as to what Tony would want. “So tell me, what’s been going on with you?” she asks suddenly. You both proceeded to explore the store for whatever else the list requested.

“Oh, you know.” you paused. “The usual.” What ‘the usual’ was, you had no idea. Your life hasn’t exactly been normal since Thor had brought Loki into the Avengers Tower.

“Like what, painting pretty pictures and babysitting gods?” Nat laughed, plopping a case of Coca-Cola into the shopping cart. You were about to protest against her teasing when you realized that truly was what you have been doing for the past two days.

“Yeah, pretty much.” you admitted with a sigh. Natasha chuckled, before a moment of silence.

“How’s Loki?” she asked suddenly. The question made you tense up. It wasn’t that you hated talking about Loki, just something about him made your mind go blank.

“He’s fine.” you replied plainly. You then noticed Nat raise an eyebrow at you as if she knew that you were hiding something. Which she did, of course. You opted to continue, not seeing a point in lying to your friend or yourself. “He’s not as awful as everyone claims him to be. I think he’s just misunderstood.” you persuaded. Natasha nodded, listening intently.

“What makes you think that?” she questioned. That’s when you realized Natasha only knew the Loki that had invaded New York city, much like everyone else. She only saw the villain of the story and not the god that you saw up on the hill. That’s when you began to pour your heart out.

“Yesterday when I took him outside, I saw a side of him that I don’t think anyone else has seen before. He told me stories about Asgard and it sounded like so much more than just some ancient legend. It seemed so normal. He seemed so normal.” you explained, almost passionately. “I don’t know, Nat. I think he’s actually really sweet.” you admitted. Natasha’s eyes went wide.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you like him!” she gasped. Your heart practically stopped at her accusation. There’s no way that you had feelings for the God of Mischief.

“Oh my- absolutely not!” you stammered. “I’m just simply being kind!” you insisted. You could feel your face burning, undoubtedly displaying your embarrassment.

“Y/N, you cannot like Loki, that’s insane!” Nat declared. You could practically feel the stares from the other people in the store, considering how loud the two of you were being.

“I just said I don’t!” you corrected her.

“But you most certainly are lying!” Natasha accused, halting the shopping cart.

“I’m not.”

“Say that to me with a straight face then.”

“Nat, PUSH. THE. CART.”

“HA! I knew it!”

You both continued to bicker and squabble for the rest of the shopping trip. It wasn’t until you and Natasha reached the checkout line that the childlike arguing returned back to its normal conversational tone.

“Oh god, what will Tony think?” Natasha said with a gasp. You groaned, covering your face with your hands. The longer you listened to her babble on about Loki, the more you realized she could be right. You admit, Loki was a fairly attractive person. Plus his gentlemanly charm didn’t help your case much. Oh, who were you kidding? Loki was downright gorgeous and you knew it. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you knew that you were slowly catching feelings for the god.

“Tony can’t know, he’d have a fit.” you spoke almost in a whisper, as if Tony was listening to your conversation.

“Oh, so you admit it? You do have a crush on Loki?” Natasha asked eagerly.

“N-no! Well, yes, but you can’t say a word about it!” you pleaded almost in disbelief at what you had just admitted. You had a crush on the almighty Loki and there was no denying it. Natasha simply giggled like a school girl.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” she assured you. Except the way she continued to smile about it the whole car ride home showed that she was going to have a difficult time keeping your secret.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Romanoff, nobody can know!” you suddenly said as she drove the two of you back to the Avengers Tower.

“I’m sorry, I just have to say it.” she started. You shook your head, knowing this conversation wouldn’t end anytime soon. “You should try to make a move tonight.” she suggested, giving you a smug smirk.

“Oh c’mon, you know he’s not allowed at the party.” you claimed. “But I have been thinking about ways to sneak him in tonight.” Natasha mocked a gasp.

“Y/N, how scandalous of you.” she poked fun at you, causing you to giggle. “I must say though, I think you can absolutely do better.” she suddenly stated, making your jaw drop slightly.

“What do you mean?” you asked, slightly put out.

“Loki is a mass murderer!” Natasha indicated. “Not to mention he’s tortured our friends and acts like a complete asshole.” she continued. You wave your hand at her in an attempt to silence her.

“Like I said, he’s changed.” you defended. Natasha didn’t respond, leaving you two in silence. After some time, you thought of your task to sell your paintings at the party. You decided that it could be best if you were to just leave Loki in his room. Plus, it’s not like everything Natasha had said wasn’t true. Perhaps it's for the best that you don’t get too close with the terrorist of New York.

~

Third Person POV:

Loki watched his brother pace the floor as he sat on the bed, pondering ways to sneak himself into the party. The longer they allowed time to pass by, the more hopeless Loki began to feel.

“We’re short on time brother, this won’t work.” Loki sighed. “I say we just go with my idea.” he suggested. Thor gave him a stern look and crossed his arms.

“Loki, we are not going to tie up one of the party members to disguise yourself as them.” Thor lectured his brother. Loki scoffed at Thor’s statement. After a bit more pacing, Thor snapped his fingers as a scheme formed in his mind.

“But perhaps disguises are not such a terrible idea after all!” Thor quipped with a large grin. Loki raised his eyebrow at Thor, signaling him to continue with his thought. “Think back to when we were children. That trick you always played on me when you would transform yourself into a snake just to stab me.” Thor explained with slight annoyance in his voice, remembering those times of his childhood.

“If you’re suggesting I slither into the event as a snake, I don’t think the midgardians would be too pleased with serpents being let loose in the building.” Loki glared at Thor, thinking it was a poor idea.

“Yes, but that’s only if you are caught.” Thor urged with a devious smile. He knew his younger brother was always up for a challenge and this task seemed perfect for him. Loki gave the thought a second chance before chuckling to himself.

“Excuse me, brother.” Loki sighed, standing up from the bed. “I have a party to attend.”

~

Stark’s party was full to the brim with people. You had already known ahead of time that the event would be completely packed, yet the amount of people still managed to astonish you. So there you were, greeting people as they walked in. You gave warm smiles and shook hands with the ones who offered it. After some friendly greetings, you were approached by Tony who had ushered you away from the entrance. You expected nothing less from him.

“Alright Y/N, this is your deadline. Where’s the paintings?” he asked, feigning impatience.

“Relax, Tony, I’ve got everything set up by the bar.” you advised him, gesturing towards your stand which displayed the art.

“Oh good, because I’ve already promised like four people that I had museum quality shit here.” he shared quickly, walking towards your platform. You roll your eyes and dramatically sigh at Tony.

“Of course you have.” you said, following him. “Well I suppose I should get to work then.” you said, observing the line of people in front of the small stage.

“Good thinking. Thanks again, Picasso.” Tony thanked you, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder before sauntering over to a large group of people. You took a step onto the platform and strolled over to the small microphone displayed on a stand for you. Everyone took note of your presence and gave their full attention to you. You looked out to the crowd before sighing. As much as you weren’t in the mood to converse with a large amount of people, you always had an open heart for Tony.

“Hello, everyone!” you greeted into the microphone. “My name is Y/N and I am the creator of these paintings presented before you today. Let’s just start with a little bit of browsing, shall we?” you suggested, hoping the crowd would see eye to eye with your proposal. Much to your relief, they did, nodding their heads with agreement. “Great! Bidding will start in ten minutes.” you announced before turning the microphone off. You sighed in relief, happy you had extra time for yourself. In all honesty, you just needed time to get a drink. You were convinced you could never survive a Stark party without some sort of alcohol to give you an extra confidence boost. As you made your way to the bar, you were halted by no other than your friend Thor. He was dressed quite dapper, yet casual enough to give him easy mobility.

“Ah, Y/N! So lovely to see you.” he greeted, with a beer bottle in his hand.

“Thor, it’s great to see you too.” you nodded at him with a cordial smile. “You look striking tonight.” you complimented.

“Oh, you’re too kind. You look very well put together yourself.” Thor chuckled, giving you a friendly wink. You were wearing a nicely fitted red dress that fell right above your knees with lace to give it alluring details. You also wore black heels to give you an extra two or so inches.

“Thank you very much.” you blushed, giving him a curt nod. You began to walk away to retrieve a drink from the bar, but it seemed Thor had different plans. He quickly stepped in front of you, halting you in your tracks.

“One more thing!” Thor announced. “I believe my drink requires a refill.” he explained waving his empty bottle almost nervously. You chuckle lightly, wondering why he was telling you this.

“Are you asking me to get you another beer, Odinson?” you snicker. Thor’s eyes widen as he begins to stammer for the right words.

“No, no! My apologies, I’m perfectly capable of getting my own drink. I’d just like for you to join me.” he specified, gesturing towards the bar, awkwardly smiling.

“Oh!” you exclaimed in delight. You felt having your friend to accompany you would help ease your mind. “I’d like that, thank you.” you said as you started to walk. Thor followed closely next to you with a beaming smile.

Everything was going perfectly.

Once you reached the bar you took a seat on one of the tall bar stools. You were scanning the menu when Thor set his empty bottle on the counter before taking a step away from the bar.

“Please excuse me, Lady Y/N. I believe Stark has called for me.” Thor stated quickly. Confused, you turned to look at the large mass of people Tony was talking to. You could’ve sworn Tony hadn’t even paid attention to anything but his guests. Before you could question anything, Thor had already quickly turned to walk the opposite direction. You sighed, turning back towards the bar when you realized there wasn’t even a bartender to tend to you.

“Well this was useless.” you muttered to yourself. As you were about to stand from your seat, Thor’s beer bottle began to shake. You froze, thinking your eyes were just playing tricks on you. Suddenly, a small snake began to crawl out of the bottle and onto the counter. You gasped, jumping from your seat in shock. Surely you were imagining things. The green scaly creature paused to curiously look up at you then turned to slowly slither down the opposite side of the bar. You approached the bar once more, peeking over the top of the counter to search for the snake. Then with a green glow, the snake quickly transformed into the one and only Loki Laufeyson. He simply sighed, brushing off his gorgeously tailored black suit and looked up at you.

“Good evening.” he greeted casually. Your mouth hung open, completely caught off guard at what you had just witnessed.

“Loki, you- how- you aren't supposed to be here!” you stumbled your words in confusion.

“Yes, but was it not you who said I shouldn’t be cooped up in my chambers all day?” Loki snorted playfully. You had no possible way to protest. Instead you resorted to looking around to make sure nobody was looking in your direction. This earned a barely audible groan from Loki. “I presume you wish for me to change back and slither my way back to my room then?” he questioned.

“No!” you declared maybe a little too quickly. “It’s okay, you can stay.” you said trying to remain calm. Loki smiled at how flustered you were, finding it almost amusing.

“Verywell.” he settled calmly. “Now, my lady, may I offer you a drink?” he suggested with a tone that gave you uncontrollable butterflies. You blushed at his offer with a nervous smile.

“I think a red wine will suffice, thank you.” you replied as naturally as you possibly could. Though of course it was a difficult task trying to keep calm. Loki just nodded and turned to prepare your glass. You couldn’t help but look over your shoulder to be sure nobody was watching you. You knew that Stark practically had eyes everywhere, not to mention anybody could easily take a glance at Loki and recognize him from New York. Because of this, you spoke the first thing that came to your mind.

“Loki, we have to get out of here.” you uttered straightforward. He paused pouring your glass of wine to give you a puzzled look. “Tony is bound to realize that you’re here. Plus the bartender could come back at any moment.” you told him, quickly standing to your feet. Loki just nodded before setting the wine bottle down with a slightly disappointed sigh.

“Lead the way then.” Loki said almost in a testing tone. Without another word, the same green glow from earlier masked over his body and changed him back into his serpent form. Loki snaked back into the beer bottle that he had once emerged from, hinting for you to carry him as Thor did. You grabbed the bottle from the counter and turned to walk from the bar. Where you were headed was beyond you. At this point, you were simply just trying to get away from the crowd of people. As you walked, you looked down at the empty beer bottle to be sure Loki sat comfortably in his glass container. He simply looked up at you and poked his tongue out at you in response. As a result of not watching where you were walking, you ended up walking right into a woman’s body, nearly knocking her over. You gasp, taking a step back from the mystery person.

“I am so sorry!” you exclaimed before quickly looking down into the beer bottle to affirm Loki was okay. Though what you were not expecting was a familiar voice to respond to your apologies.

“Well would you look at who it is.” the woman spoke with a chuckle. “You were always quite a clumsy girl.” she remarked. When you looked up to identify the woman, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your mouth.

“Alice Weaver!” you exclaimed. You didn’t know who to expect the woman to be, but it certainly wasn’t her. Alice was a girl you had met back in highschool. She had insisted on devoting her teenage years to making yours miserable. It had started when her boyfriend at the time had broken up with her and he attempted to use you as a rebound. Her jealousy for you has been undying ever since.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Y/N!” she grinned, her shrill voice dripping with sarcasm. “How have you been?” she asked.

“I’ve been fine, thanks.” you said, shifting from side to side. You made an attempt to walk past her, but of course she quickly stepped in front of you before you could make any distance.

“Oh good!” she quipped as she looked you up and down. She then caught sight of the beer bottle in your hand. “I never took you for a beer drinker, though.” you panicked a little, hoping she wouldn’t see the small snake hiding inside of it.

“It’s for a friend.” you quickly whipped up an answer. Alice scoffed.

“That’s what they all say, isn’t it?” she questioned, keeping her seemingly sweet smile on display. You gritted your teeth. In all honesty, you were still in shock that she was even here in the first place. “Anyways, I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to hear that I’m actually staying at the compound until tomorrow. I’m here to assist Stark on research.” she went on. You listened in disbelief.

“Research?” you asked plainly, your throat running dry.

“Yes of course, I’m studying engineering and physics.” Alice gushed.

“Wonderful.” you spat as friendly as you could possibly muster. You went to take a step and she walked in front of you yet again.

“Oh, Y/N, shouldn’t you be over there bidding those… pictures?” she said, pointing over towards your stand. “Here, I’ll hold this for you!” she said quickly snatching the beer bottle. You gasped trying your best to grab it back.

“Wait, no! Alice, I need that!” you yelped, struggling to grab the bottle back. You were suddenly pulled back from her, leaving you empty handed.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?!” Tony whisper-screamed to you, retracting you from Alice. “I have a group of very unhappy people waiting for you. Now stop bugging my student and do your job.” he exclaimed before softly shoving you towards the small stage. Now you were panicking. Tony Stark and your high school nemesis were in possession of Loki and you couldn’t do a single thing about it. So there you were, nervously walking up onto the stage and turning the microphone on.

“I am so sorry for the delay everyone, I ran into some issues.” you spoke to the crowd nervously. “I suppose I’ve kept you all waiting long enough, let’s get started.” you clapped your hands together, trying to seem as normal as possible. As you continued to speak out towards the crowd, you watched from afar as Tony and Alice continued to talk. You could tell by the way the two kept glancing over at you, they were certainly speaking of your behavior. You shakily sighed, going to grab a painting to exhibit it on the easel. Once you were back in front of the microphone you opened your mouth to speak but was abruptly interrupted when you felt something crawl down the back of your neck, causing you to squeak. This earned a suspicious reaction from the people in the crowd. You quickly recomposed yourself when you heard little snake hisses behind your ear. Loki. You were immensely relieved that he managed to sneak out of the bottle. He must have quickly slithered up your arm and up your back when Alice had grabbed the bottle from you. Although you were beyond grateful for his escape, feeling his cold scales on your bare skin made you shutter. You quickly cleared your throat.

“Excuse me, I just am not myself tonight.” you managed to squeak out. “A-anyways, do we have any takers for this piece?” you stuttered out. As you continued to make biddings for your painting, you could feel Loki leisurely slither down your neck and into the back of your dress. You slightly jumped at feeling Loki enter the back of your dress, making your heart race. “Sold!” you nearly barked out, hoping it would get Loki to cease his crawling. It didn’t. He continued down your dress until he rested over the back of your bra. You began to walk as casual as possible to your next art piece. As you bent down to pick it up you felt Loki crawl to the side of your dress towards the cup of your bra. After picking it up, you subtly brushed your bicep over your side, hoping to halt Loki’s movement. With your luck, this seemed to only spur him on. Loki then made haste to sneak into the cup of your bra, causing you to gasp.

“Can we hurry it up, please?” a very impatient man nagged from the audience. You groaned in response, not entirely sure if it was from the man’s remark or Loki.

“M-my apologies, sir.” you apologized, clearly annoyed yourself. “I guess I just have a chill I can’t seem to shake.” you admitted to the audience, but mostly directed towards the small snake currently resting in your bra. You felt him nestled comfortably against your skin, finally stopping to rest. “Next up is one of my personal favorites. Do we have any takers?” you spoke out to the crowd. You continued the bidding, trying the best you could to ignore the fact that Loki Laufeyson, the God of Mischief was presently relaxed in the cup of your bra as a snake. As you continued speaking, you felt him hiss from time to time causing his small forked tongue to brush the skin of your sternum. You swore it made your breath hitch everytime. This continued until every single piece was presented to its new owner. By the end of the night, you ended up with a large amount of cash though you didn’t seem to care much about that. While you granted the very last person your last painting, Stark approached with a drink in his hand. You whined to yourself upon seeing him. You were far too flustered to even deal with his snarky remarks.

“Congrats, Y/N! You got the job done.” Tony joked. You leered at him, walking off the stage.

“Tony, not now.” you said, trying to walk away.

“Oh don’t be such a sour puss, you got loads of cash.” he continued to provoke. “Hold on, I got one more thing for you.” You felt your body stiffen. You sigh, turning on your heels to face Tony.

“What?” you asked plainly. Tony flashed you a smile as he handed you the drink he had come to you with. Whiskey on ice.

“For you, it’s on the house. Just a ‘thank you’ for tonight.” he said, sounding truly genuine. You couldn’t possibly stay mad at him, even if it was Tony Stark. You took the glass from him and returned the smile.

“You’re welcome.” you smiled. Just as you were about to take a sip of your much deserved reward, you felt Loki abruptly start to move again. He began to creep his way out the side of the cup of your bra, passing into the opposite one. This resulted in a yelp that had been caught in your throat all night, startling Tony.

“Y/N, are you-”

“Loki!”

“What?”

“I have to check on Loki!” you quickly shouted setting the drink down. “H-he’s been in his room all night!” you swiftly made an excuse. Thankfully, your excuse was adequate enough for you to get out of there. You swiftly speed walked to the nearest bathroom avoiding any more interruptions. The quicker you moved, the more agitated you could feel Loki getting. As you made your way to the bathroom you could feel him continue to slither around your bra. Once you finally reached the bathroom you slammed the door shut and pulled the hem of your dress away from your chest.

“OUT!” you screamed. Loki listened, crawling out of your bra and down your leg. Once he reached the floor, his magic glow covered him once more, turning him back into his godly self.

“Well…” he panted, clearly shaken up from how speedy you walked. “Could you have moved any faster?” he nearly growled. You could feel your anger rise and your patience snap.

“How is any of this my fault?!” you shouted at him. “What in the hell were you doing, going into my bra like that?” you asked. Loki rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Oh my apologies, in case you didn’t notice, I had nowhere else to go!” he snapped back. You loudly groaned as you covered your face with your hands.

“Tonight was a disaster, all thanks to you!” you argued, pointing a finger at him.

“Me?!” he barked, causing his voice to echo throughout the bathroom. You jumped at his sudden loudness. “I put all my efforts in sneaking into this awful party just so I could simply serve you a drink to thank you for your generosity from yesterday.” he spoke loudly, slowly approaching you. His words shocked you. You hadn’t realized that Loki only wanted to attend the event just so he could show you some kindness. Your face fell, almost feeling sorry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” you said in a softer tone. Loki remained irritated, taking another big step towards you so there was almost no more space between the two of you. Your breath became ragged.

“Perhaps next time, at least make an attempt to stay calm and keep yourself from squirming.” he requested bitterly.

“You want to speak about squirming?!” your voice raised again. “How about next time, you don’t go into my bra!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” Loki rolled his eyes. “Your breath betrays you, Midgardian. If I didn’t know any better, the hitch in your throat would tell me that you rather enjoyed it.” he mocked. You could feel your face burn a bright red, embarrassment flooding your emotions.

“Y-you disgust me!” you spat out. Loki snickered almost as if he was purposely trying to provoke you.

“There it is again.” he pointed out. “You get flustered so easily, it’s almost pitiful.” You remained silent, stunned by his remark. He continued to stare at you, his face dangerously close to yours.

“I hate you.” you whispered. What happened next was completely out of your control. Instead of getting anger out of Loki, your statement sparked something uncontrollable. He swiftly grabbed your hips and crashed his lips upon yours, sealing you both in a passionate kiss. Before your mind had time to register what was happening, he pulled away, removing his hands from you completely. He examined your face, searching for any sort of restraint. Realizing what he had just done, he became worrisome.

“My most sincere apologies, I-” you quickly cut him off, pulling him back into yet another searing kiss. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as the kiss grew hungrier. His hands traveled up to your face to pull you in closer, making your breath quicken. Your mind was racing with all sorts of emotions, but you knew one thing was for sure: you didn’t want this moment to ever end. But it did. You both quickly pulled away from each other when the door to the bathroom swung open. Your head snapped to look at whoever entered the bathroom and your heart sank when you realized who it was. Alice Weaver stood at the door, looking both you and Loki up and down. She laughed in disbelief at what she saw in front of her.

“Am I interrupting something?”

[namelesswolffreak]

"Boyfriends"

I've been working on this story concept for....3-4 years now and I've finally managed to work everything out to the point I'm confident in posting this little blurb of the main characters. So, I hope you enjoy and feel free to ask questions about them and their world.

Context: This takes place in a world of super powered people heavily inspired by MHA / Marvel / Miraculous. Waker (Way-kur) Atlas is Dare City's main hero who is put through quite a lot on a daily to weekly basis trying to beat the baddies and Cyrus Fauthrin is his infamous thief arch nemesis turned lover and best friend who causes trouble around the city just to get the Hero's attention.

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

The melancholy of the day was waning on Waker as he patrolled the quiet streets of one of Dare’s many neighborhoods which was quite unusual considering every seven seconds a villain was after his head. The sun was barely above the clouds, no one was really awake yet and the only thing that accompanied him was his footsteps as he jumped, hopped and skipped to the next platform he summoned under his feet. He happened to be bounding over Lay Wind Park, the foxes fast asleep in their dens to his disappointment, but the Hero Monuments were still a sight to behold in the early sunrise as they shone with brilliance in what little light was filtering over the surrounding hillsides.

The wind blew past his frizzed locks as he stood above the park near a tree in the shade, expression steeled and focused as he watched for signs of trouble as he waited for a certain someone to arrive. Today was uneventful and rather slow, the kind of day Waker preferred if he were being honest. Heaven knew being bored all day was ten times better than returning home to the countless kitchen sink surgeries he’d have to do with worn needles and his mother’s thread pinching into his skin as he sewed up bloodied wounds full of shrapnel and debris. Much better. The birds were chirping a happy, lazy song as they flew by on the breeze and the distant hum of an awakening city filled the natural ambiance of cicadas and crickets quite nicely as he watched and waited. He dare let out a sigh as the scene took hold of him fully, a warmth washing over him that he hadn’t felt in the recent weeks.

Which wouldn’t be for long as the rustling of tree leaves and a “Boo!” have him falling off of his platforms and hurtling towards the ground with an embarrassingly shrill scream.

“Waker!” A concerned voice follows as a blue blur dives after him.

Ground spiraling as he falls, Waker braces for impact, too late to conjure any platforms beneath him to break the fall so, he readies himself, waiting for the hurt and pain that would surely follow with some scrapes and bruises…………...But it never comes. He unscrunches his eyes and removes his arms from his head to see a blue, sparkling light surrounding him.

Irritation and embarrassment take over him immediately.

His face turns a copious amount of red as he’s carefully scooped up in pale arms that hold him close and, humiliatingly enough, in bridal style. Oh god no, he curses mentally, murmuring a soft “No…” into his shield of arms. This was so not how he wanted to show up in front of his partner after their long and grueling few weeks of not being able to see each other outside of villain fights and breaks in between their testing week.

The sudden warmth of a chest presses against his side and the delicate rhythm of a frantic heart race beneath his one hand as the other quickly grabs for his cape to hide his strawberry cheeks. There was no way in hell he was letting ‘he knew who’ see him in such a state, there was no possible way he could let the witch-like thief catch him like this. A brave hero didn’t get scared or spooked by rustling leaves and the word boo! Absolutely absurd! Though a voice in the back of his mind said he already had.

“You are such a fucking clutz, I swear.” And a huge scaredy cat, the blue-clad ravenette doesn’t say aloud, but his tone implies anyways. “I should take you to my ballet classes sometime, maybe then you’d actually learn some balance.” The comment only makes him clutch the soft fabric tighter around himself.

He’s loathing the thought of unveiling himself now, but he knows he’s been caught, his normally stoic or serious persona now broken and practically burned away as he knows his cape isn’t doing much to hide his warm face or the tenseness of his grip. Plans to forever sink himself into a hole where nobody could possibly ever find him again after this mess are shortly abandoned for now and gaining courage Waker swallows the huge lump in his throat and tries to cleverly reply. “H-hey, what’s a-....What’s up, Witch Boy?” And he knows the intended playfulness doesn’t go through as he’s met with a narrowed glare.

The other isn’t amused. “Witch boy, really? Did I actually scare you that badly that you lost a couple of brain cells?”

“Shu-shut up, Cyrus!” He defends as this “Cyrus” just sighs at him, though his stare more sly than pointed now.

“Get out of that stupid thing so I can see your face.” He says with a tremble in his voice that Waker can definitely tell is laughter, the prick. “Or I’ll totally drop you again.” And like hell he will, Waker knows, but he takes the threat seriously nonetheless and loosens his grip on the cape just enough to see the Ravenette’s brilliant and ever playful smile.

For a moment Waker just stares and admires him, those brilliant blues sparkling, no, literally sparkling as he says something Waker doesn’t catch. The sun is framing his face so perfectly in the light, highlighting those perfectly red cheeks he would love to kiss every morning, and the slight upturn of his lips as he smiles down in reverence at him, and the slow flutter of his lashes that compliment his features nicely. Though braided off to the side Cyru’s hair never fails to make him look so ethereal as the gentle morning breeze brushes back his loose strands. Waker swears it looks like its made up of space itself when he lets it go during the night time, convincing himself he can see stars within the strands when he stands beneath the moonlight. It doesn’t take much to make the hero swoon regarding his partner nowadays. Daydreams of peaceful nights alone on the couch watching movies together after his nightmares keep him awake and alert run through his mind, or the times Cyrus has saved him from getting beaten to a pulp and they spent hours talking over stitching him back together about nothing at all, and every single time Cyrus has stuck up for him at school, reminding him of the warmth this person carries with them and all the love and affection he’s constantly showered in when they’re together. It’s strange how much Cyrus has changed over the past few months from raging emo to ride or die friend, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. He doesn’t even try to stop the lofty sigh that escapes his lips as more dear memories cross his mind.

And Cyrus is all too quick to recognize that dumb look on his face.

“Oh, hell no!” Is the only warning he gets before being promptly dropped, this time no blue aura to save him from hitting the dirt below, landing with a thud. “Not this early in the morning!” Though Waker could have sworn Cyrus was sharing the same look with him not minutes prior.

“Ow! Why’d you drop me, asshole!?”

Cyrus cocks his hips as he floats there, his wide brimmed conical now covering his eyes in an intimidating manner, making him way more menacing than he should considering his current attire. “Oh please, don’t even act like you’re hiding that stupid look on your face, Idiot! I ain’t dealing with your whole sappy dappy act this early in the morning.”

By “sappy dappy” Waker knows exactly what he’s referring to and scowls accordingly. Apparently, holding hands and having morning cuddles while complimenting everything about Cyrus is considered sappy and lovingly disgusting. Well at least to some people, it’s called affection and admiration!

“It’s a look that means I like you, asswipe!” Waker shoots back, malice nowhere to be found in his tone though, barring more on playfulness.

“Do you think I’m in love with you or something!?”

And they then stand there -well float there- in silence, both looking each other in the eyes, narrowed brows testing the other to make the next move or say the next snappy comment. And for a moment it looks as if the words really have cut too deep, but Waker isn’t one to remain serious for long as his shoulders begin to shake, prompting the other to clutch his stomach and stifle a grin as their eyes water over with laughter.

“Oh, no, not me, I could never.” Waker quips, leaning back and hugging both his arms, not caring for the dirt now caking his suit. Cyrus is quick to come back with his own natural snark.

“Pfft, as if! Absolutely not. Me and you, the orange haired frizz ball who kicks my ass more than twice a week over that one time I stole a candy bar? You gotta be fucking with me!” He bellows, Waker taking note of the boy flipping upside down where he floats in the air, his face a contortion of joy and happiness as his ripped dress flows with the wind.

He finds the display rather adorable, recalling that such a thing only occurred by accident when the thief was getting emotional. His inept ability to control his powers never failed to amuse the Hero. The little wrinkle of his nose didn’t quiet his thoughtful admiration either as he blushed in between bouts of giggles.

"I wouldn't have time to be your lover anyways!"

“It’s only 6am, when can I admire my boyfriend so it fits within your busy schedule?”

And the laughter is immediately quieted, a heavy silence filling the air, even the crickets and cicadas falling victim to it. The world is waiting in bated breath as if listening to the drama unfold.

Waker holds in a breath. Oh shit, oh fuck, he really fucked it up this time! Way to go, Atlas, you really did a number on today!

…………

………….

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I just did-”

“It’s ok……” Cyrus breaths out, taking a long drag of air before finally finishing. “It’s….ok.” He manages to lower himself to the ground, dress falling at his sides, and crosses his arms in doing so. “We’re-I’m going to have to get used to it eventually.” He shrugs. “Right?”

There’s a weight to his words as Cyrus steps closer to the redhead that Waker recognizes near immediately. They’ve had this talk before, a talk that has led to a misunderstanding or two between them in the past and a verbal fight at that. The term “Boyfriend.” It was a touchy subject to say the least and while it had been a challenge for even Waker himself to start using it, it also seemed Cyrus was struggling to accept the lofty title. A long time ago before the two even met, the word had a different meaning to it for them both, but Waker had long since come to terms with it himself, but understood Cyrus’ hesitation in saying the word freely. He considered his next words carefully.

“I know you don’t exactly like the ter-”

“It’s not that I don’t like it Waker…..”

“I know, Cy, but.” Failing to put his thoughts into words Waker scrambles forward to catch Cyrus’ hands in his own, pecking each delicately, square on the knuckles, gauging his reaction whilst he does so. When Waker is met with a soft smile, he returns it, though his much softer and kinder in Cyrus’ eyes. “I shouldn’t have said it when you’re not ready. Just because I moved past it doesn’t mean you have.” Noticing his smile slipping he clumsily adds in, “And that’s ok! Really, it’s ok and I mean, and I love you and-uh, I get it and I mean I just say boyfriend because that’s what everyone else says, expects- wait no- I didn’t mean to phrase it like that uh-I don’t really get the need for a title for what we have anyways, like so dumb right!?”

Followed by more ridiculous rambling that has Cyrus covering his mouth trying not to giggle. It’s a nervous habit that has come to amuse the thief to no end. “And-it not like it means anything to us, its just there for other people so they know that um, we, us, you and I are an um item I guess wow that was cheesy and dumb and I am so sorry that you have to put up with me oh god I’m rambling and no, don’t look at me like that. I’m doing the thing again aren’t I-” Shaking with laughter again Cyrus has to put a hand on his shoulder to get him to shut up because he knows if he doesn’t Waker could go on well into the night and has before. It didn’t help that he could feel the tremble of the others fingers, realizing Waker was going to throw himself into an anxiety attack if he didn’t.

“Waker!” And Waker promptly closes his mouth, panic clear in his eyes that Cyrus quickly combats by brushing strands of orange out of his face and behind his ear. “Just take a deep breath.” And Waker does, following the instruction intently. “And let it out, slowly.” And Waker follows that too, looking that much calmer as Cyrus pulls him closer. “Slowly.” He rubs his thumbs over Waker’s hands. The trembling is still present, but less so. “There you go.” And doesn’t stop telling him to breath calmly until he feels Waker’s grip relax in his own.

Delicately and softly, each flyaway is combed back into place only to immediately pop out again, but Waker appreciates the sentiment anyways and Cyrus has no problem being given an excuse to keep combing through such lovely soft tufts. He loves the soft mane of fluff on his partner’s head that even since their first meeting has remained as untamed and wild as ever. -Such a shame he always ties it back when he’s on duty though- It just adds to the contrast between his actual self and hero persona, the sweet and endearing ball of anxiety vs the serious and battle ready hero of Dare city who couldn’t catch a break. And he wouldn’t be ashamed to admit to which one he preferred.

“You don’t need to tell me-er.” Waker quickly corrects, trying not to sound patronizing. “I don’t need you to explain yourself Cy. You-we don’t need to have a name if that’s what you want, that’s what I’m trying to say. Official or unofficial or whatever, I won’t treat you any different.”

“I know Waker. I…..I really want to call you that, just I-.......I just like what we have right now and-”

Waker just pecks him on the cheek quickly and pulls away to pat at a spot on the ground, looking longingly back up at him. A soundless “You don’t want to lose me.” goes unsaid as Cyrus complies, Waker taking the shorter one in his arms once more.

It wasn’t a matter of Cyrus being afraid to commit, though maybe it was, not even he was sure of what was going with himself anymore, but a fear that the wonderful friendship he’d built up with the hero would end or change or just not be the way it is now because they suddenly started calling each other boyfriends. He’s had it happen one too many times at this point, every one of his previous “boyfriends” changing everything once they started dating, acting as if kissing and romantic outings were supposed to be their only interactions from now on. They were no longer interested in the random silly things he found on the internet or just hanging out doing whatever, but were interested in using him, his body, parading him around and rubbing it in peoples faces, being denied having fun if it wasn’t their idea of “fun” and more. Cyrus' stomach curls remembering being ignored for weeks to months at a time because he wasn’t feeling up to being in bed with them or awkwardly sitting off to the side while his one boyfriend at the time showed him off to his friends and bragged. It was the same guy who he used to play videogames and eat cookies with on the weekends, talking about anything and everything…...It hurts him to realise there probably was never a friendship there to begin with. Just an elaborate ruse to get him into bed at some point.

And that was one thing Cyrus feared when they had held hands for the first time after awkwardly admitting to harboring feelings for each other after the high of a fight they were forced to join sides on. Never had the thief felt more relieved that his feelings were reciprocated, but also more scared that he had just ruined the one healthy relationship he managed to make in those many months spent together.

Cyrus removes his hat and huddles under Waker’s chin, placing his head right on his heart that gives out a steady, comforting rhythm and brightens when the taller of the two puts his head on him in return. No, Cyrus thinks, this is different.

A long silence falls between them as they cuddle in each other's arms, just watching the sun come up. Basking in each other’s presence, taking in the warmth of their bodies pressed together in this nice early morning, and relishing in the calm which was far and few in between with their double lives and they were thankful. There’s no need to exchange words now as a quiet understanding befalls them both.

It’s only after the sun seems to peak at the crest of the hillsides does Waker make himself heard again.

“Is that why you dropped me?” And Cyrus blinks for a quick second, processing the question before understanding and then playfulness cross his expression.

“No it’s because you’re a dunce.” He huffs. “And fucking heavy as hell.”

Waker chooses to ignore that last bit. “But I’m your dunce.” He boops his nose.

“Damn, straight you are.” And Cyrus retaliates with a kiss on his.

Boyfriend or just “friend who I like to kiss and hold hands with sometimes”, Waker loves him and Cyrus doesn’t doubt that for a second.

[toothpastecanyon]

We Creatures, Chapter 3

When Alcor felt Mizar calling to him, he came to help. Perhaps, this one time, he should have stayed asleep.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

“I spy with my little eye… something beginning with e.”

“Is it elves?”

“What? No!”

“Just checking,” Mizar sat back in her seat. “Just checking, uh… electricity! From the lights?”

“No.”

“Elm tree! I see some elms over there.”

Alcor grinned. “Nope.”

“Okay… fuck, I give up. What is it?”

“Okay, are you ready? You’re gonna kick yourself: Everest.”

“Ev… Everest?” She raised an eyebrow. “Like the mountain in the Himalayas?”

“Yeah!” He chuckled to himself. “You know, I’ve gotten a not-insignificant number of summoners over the years who wanted me to teleport them to the top of Everest and back. Some of them worded it better than others, but you humans are just obsessed with that place - it’s so funny to me!”

“That’s great, but this is the third time you’ve named something only you can see.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t think this Eye Spy game is working.”

“Oh… that’s okay! I have other road trip games! How about twenty questions - we pick something in the environment and, uh, the other person asks you twenty questions about what it could be…”

He launched into an explanation. In the back, Mizar rolled her eyes. She was grinning, though.

______________________________________________________________

They rounded a curve on the interstate, radio blasting.

“We gotta hooooold on to what we got!”

“It doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not!”

Mizar was using a soda can as a microphone. “We got each other, and that’s enough for noooow, we’ll give it a shot!”

“OHHHHH, we’re halfway there!” Alcor swerved in time to the music. “OOOH-OHHH, livin’ on a prayer! Liiivin’ onnn a prayyyy-aaa-err!”

______________________________________________________________

“And so I told her, you can’t ride a pig into battle, Mabel. Waddles - his name was Waddles - is too small, and let’s face it, he’s not really a fighter. He rolls - rolled - in the mud all day, he ate carrots, he’s not really down to charge through a cultist’s basement and strike fear in their hearts”

Mizar was slumped in the back, methodically ripping up gummy worms. “Mmmhm.”

“But, uh, a bit of a size change, and boy was I wrong.” Alcor chuckled, one hand on the steering wheel as they cut through a forest. The sun was still up, but it was blocked by the trees; every so often he’d squint as a ray peeked through. “Kind of glad that didn’t become a regular thing. A horse-sized pig is, uh, more intimidating than you’d think.”

“Mmmhm.”

“But yeah, she did funny things like that… all Mizars tend to do stuff like that… but always a different thing, you know?”

“Yeah…”

“I dunno, maybe I’m explaining it weirdly.” His smile faded a bit. “It’s been a long time since I thought about her… too long. I just… I sort of forgot, I guess? It feels like I can’t’ve - she was my sister, but… I guess time does that to you.” Alcor stared forwards. “Everything fades. In time.”

The silence stretched, and Mizar frowned a bit. She glanced over at him.

“Dude?”

“Huh?” He blinked. “Oh, sorry! Think I blanked on you for a second there.”

“Always encouraging to hear that from your driver.”

“Heh, yeah…” Alcor nodded, and then looked back at her. “So what about you?”

No reply. He looked back, and saw she’d gone still.

“Mizar?”

“What do you mean, what about me?” Ostensibly nothing had changed about her, but Alcor could feel a sort of carefulness in her choice of words now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and Alcor made a face.

“I didn’t mean anything serious by it. I just thought I’d get to know you a little bit more!” He shrugged. “You know, uh… oh, what’s your name? I never asked you that.”

“You’ve been calling me Mizar, right? That works.”

“Well, Mizar’s your soul’s name. You have a name apart from that, right?”

“Sure I do.”

“Yeah?” There was a pause. “Uh, what is it?”

“…Smith.” Mizar ripped a gummy worm in half. “John Smith, there you go.”

Alcor struggled to keep a smile. “Okay, Mizar, uh… so you lived in New York, huh?”

“Yeah. You gonna make me give you an address now?”

“No, I- ugh. Forget it.” Alcor rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t trying to pry, I was just trying to get to know you. Why are you so against that?”

“Why do you want to know so bad?” Mizar sat up a bit. “Look, genuinely? I’m sorry that’s frustrating for you. When I summoned a demon, I wasn’t exactly thinking I’d have to make small talk with them.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means I actually kind of like you, dude! And I feel bad, but I can’t risk…” she trailed off, then cleared her throat. “How about this. Once we get to the desert, you can ask me anything you want, okay?”

Alcor frowned. “Okay… I’ll wait for the desert, then.”

“Thank you.” She sat back a little. “Thank you, Alcor.”

He didn’t quite know what to say to that. The conversation seemed like it had reached its end, and he started fiddling with the radio again. Most of it was adverts, though; it felt like sometimes the stations were coordinating to all go on break at the same-

“Look out!”

Mizar’s voice shot through him like a knife. He looked up and noticed there was something in the road - a deer! He swerved hard, and then he tried to swerve away from a tree right at the bend in the road but it was coming up too fast and-

The impact broke on him like a wave slamming against a hard cliff, and the sound of glass and metal shattering split his body’s eardrums. He felt his head crack against the steering wheel, and when he looked up he had to blink through the blood.

There were… legs? Legs through the windshield, and a sweatered body wrapped around the tree, and Alcor felt a raw fear flood through his being.

“Mizar?” He tried to get up, get out of his body, but something held him in place. “Mizar!”

And then she moved. He froze.

“Ugh…” Mizar shifted, and moved her neck off the right-angle it was making with the tree’s trunk. She rubbed her head. “Ow.”

Alcor watched with wide eyes as she shook herself off, and started extracting her legs through the opening. All the broken glass on the hood hadn’t left a scratch on her, it was…

“Impossible,” Alcor breathed. He saw her eye settle on him, her face flash through a million expressions before turning carefully blank. “You’re not human.”

“It…” She hesitated. “It doesn’t matter right now. We need to go.”

He tried to sit up, but something was keeping him rooted in place. It was more than being trapped; he tried to step into the Mindscape, but something had tethered itself to his very soul and bound him to the Earth.

“I can’t.” He frowned. “I’m… trapped?”

“You’re trapped?”

Bound to the Earth… Alcor lifted up his shirt, and found a branch impaled through his abdomen, skewering him to the seat. It was young, thin, but before his eyes, he watched it grow thicker, watched bark form on its trunk, and creep up his skin.

Mizar saw it too. “Shit,” she said, and backed up. “They’re here. They want you.”

“The elves?”

“Yeah… I have to go now.” She jumped off the car’s hood. “Sorry, dude.”

“Mizar? They want me? Wh-what does that mean? Mizar!”

But she was gone - vanished into the darkness. Alcor gritted his teeth, then he summoned a flame and tried to burn the branch. Nothing happened; if anything, a couple leaves sprouted where it should have turned to ash. The bark kept climbing up his chest, and he felt… strange. A little drowsy. It was easy to resist - for now.

But there were voices, and he pushed all that to the side.

“...No, child.” Elvish - spoken softly, like a song. “Do not chase the startled bear into its cave. Have patience, patience…”

He could see three pairs of feet, approaching. Two of them were clad in bark armour - the middle wore a long, flowing robe, and continued forwards where the other two stopped. It walked right up to Alcor, and for the first time in a very long while, he could feel a little bit of apprehension.

It was just an elf, he told himself. Just a mortal. Whatever it was, he’s a demon, he could take it…

The feet stopped in front of a mangled car door. Then they leaned down a little, and a face appeared through the broken glass. By the ears, they were elven, and by the locks of brilliant white hair framing their face, they were ancient indeed.

“Greetings, demon.” said the elf in a quiet tone. “You’ve made a mistake.”

Then they smiled. Alcor did not like the way they smiled.

“You’ve made a mistake,” He growled. “I don’t know how you’ve got me bound, but you can’t keep it up forever. If I get out and you’ve hurt one hair on Mizar’s head… what are you doing?”

The elder was waving at the other two. In unison, they kneeled on the ground, and started whispering to it. The bark creeping up Alcor’s chest started accelerating.

“Alcor the Dreambender,” the elder turned back to him. “You don’t know what a Sanctuary is, do you?”

“Wh-”

“No, you wouldn’t. Thus far, you’ve been a wise demon; you’ve stayed out of our affairs, and we’ve stayed out of yours.” They smiled. “Or perhaps, you’ve just been a lucky one. If you were wise, you wouldn’t have meddled last night, would you?”

“Meddled?” They leaned back as the elder leaned in close. “You were trying to kill Mizar, you- get back!”

“Let me educate you, child.” They whispered in his ear. “We will grow a great forest over your body. We will live in this Sanctuary, we will walk these woods, and our every thought will keep you bound, will keep you aslumber. And your wistful dreams will cause flowers to bloom in the springtime.”

With a smile, they stepped away, and spoke again.

“Now, do you see? Do you see why you should have been wise, demon?”

Alcor growled. After a moment, he got his claws under the bark encircling his neck. With a little effort, he ripped it away, and glared up at the elder.

“You can’t bind me forever. I’ll get out - you’ll regret this!”

“Hmm… perhaps. But not in time to protect that which you travel with. This… Mizar, you say?”

“Don’t you dare.” Alcor lunged at him. “Don’t you dare! D̞̖̟̱͉O̡͖͇̫N̳̦̳̫̮͎̯'T̹̼̮̤̠͢ͅ ̻̼Y̮͖̜OU҉͙̠̪̭̞̭ ͙̥͍̙͚̹̻D͈A̵̞̠̫̙̲̝R̠E͚̜̺̫̬!̦̤̬͉̪”

“A Mizar…” They stroked their beard. “So that is how it enlisted your help.”

“She҉ is̡ ̵mi͠ne͘!͜ S̸h̸e ìs mine̢!̕ ̷You̧ ̷hu̴rt̢ my̕ Mi͘zar,̴ ̸I ̢W̨ILĻ ͢ḰĮLL͢ ̨Y̵OU̧!”

“But she is not your Mizar.”

Alcor frowned. “Don’t you tell me who my Mizar is - I can feel it. I know!”

At that, the elf… laughed. He growled.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh… it’s not funny.” They sighed; for once, the smile seemed to dip. “It’s not funny. I suppose it just… to see it happen again, it’s strange, is it not?”

Alcor watched the elf look into the distance. In their eyes were a thousand memories, and in their furrowing brow, a thousand pains. It seemed like an eternity before they spoke again.

“I had a daughter, once,” they started. “Long ago. Before I was one of the elders. Before the Transcendence. Shalana, her name was.”

Alcor watched the elf smile.

“And she was so full of life. She loved to dance with the wind and the leaves. And she loved everyone around her.” They shook their head. “She trusted everyone around her, and… she was mistaken.”

Alcor frowned. “What happened?”

“This is why you outsiders shouldn’t meddle.” They glanced up at him. “You ask me what happened - any elf would know what happened, but you are…” they sighed. “You don’t know of the Blighted Ones - they are hunters of us. Very specialized hunters; humans would see through their tricks, but we-“ they gestured at their visor. “We cannot. And you cannot, either.”

“What do you mean?” Alcor raised an eyebrow. “I have enough magic to see through any illusion-“

“And it is your magic that prevents you from seeing the truth! These creatures feed on magic - they twist your Sight, you cannot trust what you see!” The elf clenched their fists. “Just like Shalana could not See. She thought it was a friend who wanted to walk the forest with her; instead it was her doom.”

Alcor made a face. “I’m… so sorry to hear that.”

They looked at him, and did not smile. “You dare apologise to me?” They hissed, and leaned in closer. “You dare apologise to me when you saved her murderer last night!”

Alcor felt the elder grab his suit and wrench him in close. He was too stunned to resist.

“I spent millennia pleading with the Elders to hunt this creature down! Now I am one, and you dare interfere? You dare deny her justice? And for what?” They dug angrily in his suit pocket, and drew out the dewdrop. “For this?! This is what I’ll lose my retribution over?!”

Alcor couldn’t respond. The bark creeped up his neck, and he was fighting to keep his eyes open. The elder was only a blur as they pushed themself off of him.

“No…” they said. “Calm. Be calm. The mountain does not sway like the wind around it.”

He tried to sit up, but he was rooted to the seat. Nothing budged.

“I should not be surprised by this,” said the elf. “I should not. After all, what does a demon know of love?”

The bark was stretching over his jawline. Alcor could hardly summon the strength to panic anymore.

“Sleep well, Dreambender. You will wake to a better world- what is that?”

His closing eyes rolled over to look, and he saw something drop from the trees. There was a snarl, a cry, and the two elves stood up; suddenly the sleepiness fell away from him, and he jolted awake.

Mizar - or whatever she was - was the first thing he saw. She had the elder pinned, and with the back of her hand she slapped the visor off his face. They pushed her off and jumped away, covering their face.

“No! No! My eyes deceive! You’re not her!”

The two elves drew their swords and closed in. Mizar danced back as they slashed, glanced to the car, and then ripped off the side door and used it like a shield. One elf stabbed and stuck their sword in; she twisted it out of their hand, bashed them to the floor, then pounced on top and ripped out their throat.

The other elf raised their sword and drove it down through her back. She let out a cry, but in a flash she was on her feet again, eyes on the blade. They tried to slash at her; she caught their arm, twisted it back, and slammed them into the dirt.

Then it was silent, but for the quiet whimpering of the downed elf. Alcor watched her slowly, slowly kneel down to their level. She gripped their shoulders, and turned them over to face her.

He couldn’t see their face - only a sweater, and jangling bracelets on her arms. But the elf saw something else; he saw them go rigid, saw their feet kick up leaves as they struggled to get away, heard their groans turn to a desperate cry -

“No, no! No! Help! Tarathiel, aid me! I-”

Then Mizar struck. Alcor flinched at the scream, at the crack of bone and gristle; a deep pit formed in her stomach as he heard her begin to eat. Yet the more he watched, strangely, the fuzzier she seemed. Whatever she was doing, it was like the world around him had formed a kind of censor, and even the sounds of it faded sharply.

Like something was twisting his Sight… Alcor looked down at the visor that had landed on the front seat. He took a deep breath, and then ripped his hand out of the bark that had encased it, grabbed the visor, and put it over his eyes.

Now he saw without Sight. Now he saw the Creature that he had called Mizar.

It wasn’t human, no. It was much taller, and so, so thin. It was covered in a layer of fine yet shaggy hair, lending a greyish tint to the pale skin beneath; around its legs it was matted and grimy with dried sewage. Its hands were curled, clawed things at the end of its sticklike arms, and it was digging them into the elf to scoop out meat and dripping organs.

It was… oh, stars. Alcor felt a rush of primal fear at the sight of it, and he couldn’t help but gasp.

The Creature heard that; it froze, and then its head snapped around. Its face: its eyes were up where its forehead should’ve been, and the rest was all mouth, dripping with blood. Its jagged teeth glinted like broken glass as it turned and knuckle-walked towards him.

Alcor couldn’t help it; he growled, he leaned away as far as he could. “No… stay, stay back!”

He threw a blast of fire its way. It melted the side of the car, but nothing happened to the Creature - no, worse than nothing. His fire swirled around the narrow, bloodless hole in its chest, and sealed it.

“I’m warning you!” Alcor watched it squeeze itself through the opening in the car; it was so much larger than it looked. “Don’t come any closer, don’t - d-don’t touch me! What are you...”

It was reaching its filthy claws towards his face. He stiffened as they scraped against his forehead… then carefully closed around the visor, and took it off. The glow-eyed, primally terrifying being that hunched before him suddenly-

-just looked like a Mizar again. Felt like a Mizar again. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, there wouldn’t have been a doubt in his mind that this was his sister smiling sadly at him.

“I’m sorry,” said the Creature, with her voice. “I did lie to you. But… look, if I’ve built up any goodwill with you since we met… can you just hear me out? Please?”

Alcor didn’t move, didn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. He watched the Creature’s eyes flit down, and fix on the branch that was keeping him in place. It reached out a lie of a hand.

“Here, let me get you out of that.”

[yolkyeomie]

[blurb] — member: minho, word count: 2489, genre: e2l-esque/rockband au/female!reader/angst(?), warning: none.

note: this is a wildly out of character verison of minho so none of this is probably accurate to his actual personality. I was just tired one hand and this is how I saved myself

[11:30 pm]: “Lee Minho!” You growled. Despite the bustling energy of the dressing room before you had entered, your voice boomed over every single person within the walls limits. Those who were speaking quickly closed their mouths and others who were walking in and out slowed their hasty pace to a creeping stalk. Their eyes turned from each other to you as you stood in the doorway, hand clenched tightly around the door knob in an attempt to keep yourself calm.

Everyone could tell just by taking one glance at you that you were not here to play around as usual. The energy you exude was far too intense for anyone to even crack a smile at you. “Where is he?” You demanded, glancing around the room for the sly cat. “Where is Minho?”

“Here,” a cheery voice informed, nearly giving yourself whiplash as you turned around. There he stood right behind you, his signature black bass guitar slung over his shoulders and his mocking smile plastered against his face. Behind him stood his bandmates nervously glancing between the two of you, unsure of what exactly was going to happen next.

This scenario was something they had seen countless times before yet they still would never get used to the sight of you breathing smoke out of your nose and Minho only looking down on you with endearment. Your anger was entertaining to him, no matter how many times the out of you spat with each other.

“What? Is there something wrong?” He asked, his statement covering for his blatant ignorance, “did you not like the concert? But you had the best seat in the house?”

His condescending words easily began to fan the flame, eagerly watching as your face flickered from a look of pure bewilderment to complete wrath.

You knew Minho was doing this on purpose, yet you couldn’t resist the urge to explode. “Was there something wrong?” You questioned him, reaching out and grabbing the sterling silver chain that hung down his neck. Gasps fluttered throughout the room at your threatening demeanor as you spoke, “You really have the audacity to be asking that right now?”

“Hey, not here,” Changbin interrupted, “Not while everyone is watching. Don’t want a video of your fight to get leaked, do you?” He used his drumsticks to separate the two of you from each other, providing himself as the unprompted middle ground as he gestured toward the staff in the room.

Usually he would be all for watching you rip into Minho without a second thought, but there were too many people around to let it go unchecked. As much as he believed that the bassist deserved every inch of karma that was going to hit him, it couldn’t happen in public. They had a reputation to uphold after all.

The two of you looked around the room for yourselves, taking note of how the entire backstage room was crawling with staff members from the concert the group had held. As much as you wanted to give him a piece of your mind, you would rather not be labeled as the crazy person that barged in and caused a fight.

Begrudgingly you stepped back and away from Minho, just enough for it not to look like you weren’t going to attack him like some rabid animal. “Fine, I won’t.”

“Take it outside, somewhere private would be ideal,” Bang Chan added, whispering as lowly as possible so that any of the more... invading staff couldn’t catch him. “Oh, and don’t do anything stupid? Please? I kinda need Minho alive.”

“You heard the man,” The boy taunted, gesturing back to the band’s leader. “He needs me alive, so keep your hands to yourself this time.”

You didn’t think you could roll your eyes as hard as you did, forcing your hands to your side so that you didn’t actually harm him. The whispers and murmurs only continued to go as you led Minho outside of the dressing room, their voices drifting to your ears despite their attempts to conceal them.

“Is she some crazy fan?” “No, I heard she knows the boys personally.”

“Should we call security? What if she actually harms him!”

“I wonder what Minho did for her to act that way? Honestly, I couldn’t blame her… he’s a little patronizing and stuck up in my opinion…”

You shook off their words as the two of you walked down the corridor of the dressing rooms in silence, a stark contrast to the other staff members who were running about the halls to clean up the aftermath of the band’s concert. Every so often someone would stop to greet the two of you and ask what was going on, the sheer intensity of your auras combined quickly made them back off.

You were always the more approachable of the two but this wasn’t the right time for any of that to happen.

Soon the crowd began to thin out and for the most part, the two of you were left completely alone. The corridor you had turned down was practically a dead end so it was the perfect place for you to antagonize the bassist without running away.

“You said you’d help me with Hyunjin, to get back together with him,” you began, turning your sharp and annoyed gaze on him once again. “You said you’d get me tickets to your concert because I mentioned he was a fan of the band, so what was with that stunt you pulled on stage at the end?”

“I don’t think I understand?” The boy questioned, leaning up against the wall as he continued to feign ignorance like he had done in the dressing room with the staff. “I did exactly what you asked me to. I got you tickets, I got you the best seats in the house, I even got the other members to put his favorite song on the set list for this concert? What could have possibly gone wrong?”

“That song!” You exclaimed, “that dumb song you had created on your own but never released it for the band to play because it was about me. You played it right before the concert ended as the encore. Are you insane, seriously?”

Minho snorted at your frustration, clearly not taking the situation as serious as you were. “Are you serious? You’re mad because I played that love song without telling you? Come on Y/N, you really think he was able to tell that it was about you?”

You scoffed, almost laughing at his answer. A love song? You wouldn’t exactly label the song as a “love song”. “I understand you don’t think very highly of Hyunjin, but he knew Minho. There was no way he wouldn’t have been able to tell.”

It was so clear that Minho knew exactly what he was doing when he was on stage. As the band got ready to play their original encore song, you had caught him skipping around to stage to each member of the band. Starting discreetly with Changbin since he was the drummer in the background all the way to whispering to the lead guitarist, Jisung, near the front of the stage.

Once his words had finally reached the ears of Bang Chan, the leader gave a skeptical glance before his eyes connected to your curious one’s. He hesitated for a moment before putting on a strained smile and speaking into the microphone.

There’s been a slight change of plans in the encore, Bang Chan had announced. The entire crowd let out a wave of confusion as his dimples distracted their fans from his clear distress. I mean, who doesn’t like an unreleased song as the ending note?

The crowd let out a cheer for the change, not bothered one bit by the band switching gears to do something off script. Even Hyunjin was excited to hear the song that even he hadn’t known existed. Though both his wide smile quickly fell once the song began to play, its piercing and strong melody rang through the stadium as Minho strummed his guitar.

Minho had the most lines out of the other members of the band in that song, which was a stark contrast to his usual in the background singing. The boy was standing front and center, hands no longer glued to his guitar but clutching onto the microphone that stood before him. His voice boomed over the speakers as he sang to the crowd, yet his attention wasn’t on his adoring fans that were calling his name.

No, his attention was on you.

Minho’s eyes almost never left your figure as he zeroed you out in the crowd, his prideful smile growing on his lips as he poured his soul into the lyrics he never thought he’d sing in person. It was like he was sending a signal to you and Hyunjin, that the bond that you were trying to rekindle between the two of you would never work out in the end.

You’re mine, Minho’s lyrics conveyed, a meaning only you and Hyunjin could decipher, and I’ll never let you go to him.

“You can’t keep… you can’t keep doing this,” you struggled to convince him (or maybe you were trying to convince yourself?). “You can’t keep trying to interfere with my relationships! I’m my own person, Minho, I like other people! You can’t keep going on like this.”

“I can’t keep going on like this?” He repeated, in shock that you would even have the audacity to say that to him. Minho pushed himself off the wall as he approached you, his stereotypical vile temperament that his staff deemed him as showing through his usual cool head. “I’m not the one who keeps running back to the same person whose heart I broke every time we have a fight!”

Ouch, what a low blow. But it wasn’t like Minho was… lying? As much as you wanted to deny it, every time the two of you got into it you’d go running to Hyunjin afterward.

You needed something different from the constant fire and ice of you and the bassist's quarrels and that was exactly what Hyunjin was. He wasn’t the sheer cold of the winter storm like Minho was, just a pleasant breeze along a hot summer day. That’s why you were so drawn to him at first, that’s why you had jumped head first into a relationship with him, and that’s why you couldn’t exactly let go of him after you had broken up.

So despite Hyunjin being the better of the two, why was it that you only ran to him for comfort? As soon as he had given you what you desired you were back to trailing behind the band’s footsteps. You were back to walking and fighting with Minho.

“Do you really like him?” Minho asked, his tone a little harsher than he planned. Though he didn’t apologize for the attitude as he continued to speak, “Do you really want to be with Hyunjin again or is this an excuse to keep playing with me?”

“It’s…,” you hesitated, why must he ask this up now of all times? “It’s complicated, Minho! Not only that but it’s none of your business to pry into my relationship with Hyunjin? You’ve already done enough damage—”

“Y/N, tell me before I figure it out in a way you aren’t going to like,” he blurted out, finally snagging the words out of your mouth for good. What did he just say? “Do you really still like Hyunjin? Or are you just using him at this point, because it really feels like the latter when you keep hanging around me and not him.”

You stared back at him wide eyed, struggling to form sentences in your head and deciding to spit out whatever you could. “What are you talking about? You mean like use him to make you jealous of something? That’s petty, Minho, I—“

“One,” he began, reaching for the guitar strap on his shoulders to discard the instrument.

“How I feel about Hyunjin is none of your business,” you tried to argue. “See you’re even doing it again! Trying to force your way through when things don’t go your way. I’m supposed to be the one who is asking for answers anyway!”

“Two,” Minho continued, ignoring your rambling as he dropped the bass onto the ground without care.

“Fine, I like him. I’m in love with Hyunjin, are you happy now?” You answer, though the words feel foreign on your tongue as you bite at him. “This fights and bickering we do mean nothing to me, your stupid encore song meant absolutely nothing to me. So stop trying to press forward already.”

Minho stood in front of you quietly, his face contorting in disapproval as he tried to process your answer. “You’re so good at fighting with me but you’re so bad at lying.” He shook his head, amused disbelief donning his face as he took a hold of your shirt collar in the same motion you took his chain necklace. “Three.”

“Why are you intent on this, hm? You don’t like being the one who is toyed with instead of the other way around?” You hissed, snatching his hand off of your shirt with as much strength as you could muster. “All you do is take, take, and humiliate. Get a grip, Minho.”

The boy hesitated for a moment, hovering just inches above your face and his eyes darting around the room. He should have known that you still would have the energy to argue with him, that never ending flame in your chest that kept lighting the cigarette of your relationship.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called, making you and Minho glance over your shoulder and down the corridor to spot a figure at the foot of it. You immediately recognized it to be the Hyunjin, the fool peering down curiously and a sheepish smile stretching across his face when he finally saw you. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I knew you were backstage. I just didn’t know how long you’d be here for. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, of course,” you respond, your tone immediately going soft as you shoved Minho off of you. The way you spoke to Minho and Hyunjin respectively was so different from each other, one would think that you were two separate people. “Just give me one moment?”

The boy nodded, giving an awkward wave toward Minho given the fact that the last time the two had interacted was the situation during the encore. Though the bassist gave no response as you turned back to him, your original rage replenished as you finally addressed him for the last time. “Don’t ever sing that song again. Not around me, not around your bandmates, not around your fans, no one. I want every bit of its existence erased from my memory.”

[crystalkleure]

Haha hey remember that post I made awhile back, speculating on what a bad idea it might be to fuse dead things in the godless Frankenstein fossil machine

Meet White. He is a reanimated corpse. Two of them, actually. Or more like 1.5. [And I whipped up this half-assed partial reference sheet in one night instead of sleeping, so don’t look too hard at the chickenscratch lineart and visible guidelines, and kindly ignore the total lack of shading as well as any other messy jankiness.]

White is a product of me wondering not only about what happens if you NecroFuse a human with a Pokemon, but also what happens if you make it even worse and specifically fuse that human with a Pokemon capable of mega evolution. Because canon seems to imply that mega evolving is at best deeply uncomfortable -- and at worst outright agonizing -- for whatever creature is going through it.

Character Lore under the cut. Lots of text:

White is one of actually multiple undead guys who got mashed together with bits of dead Pokemon. They’re science experiments, so they've got the dex numbers of the Pokemon they're spliced with tattooed on the backs of their necks, and those numbers were treated as their names In The Evil Science Lab.

In his Original Life, White [and some of his buddies] got gored to death by some escaped Horrible Fucking Monsters that were accidentally [...and then not-so-accidentally] created via Two Pokemon At Once In A Fossil Resurrection Machine, because hey, it is SUPER easy to think you got Just One Thing's Bones from an excavation dig but then later you realize that Some Of Those Bones were from something TOTALLY different that just died in the same place. It happens. So, some Fossil Scientist People accidentally resurrected an Abomination, realized they fucked up pretty fast...and then started wondering if they REALLY fucked up or if this is Cool, Actually. And then the team of Science People split into two Morality Factions, with one half being like “This is unethical as shit, we need to make sure this doesn't happen again because it's not natural so who knows how this poor fucked up creature is suffering” and the other, cooler half being like “WE NEED TO DO THIS AGAIN RIGHT NOW BECAUSE SCIENCE. IMAGINE THE POSSIBILITIES HOLY SHIT.”

Cooler group splits off from the Horrified Group With Morals, and they promptly use their Science Knowledge to Construct More Machines and Make More Monsters. Doesn't take too long for them to realize, however, that Abomination Pokemon are stupidly hard to control, because not only are they suffering, their masters obviously don't care for their wellbeing, so Revolt Inevitably Occurs and they escape to wreak havoc upon the nearest congregation of townspeople. They promptly maul some people to death at a nearby local rock concert, scientists chase after them to clean up the mess, realize “Oh Shit, Manslaughter Charges Impending”, and then realize...

Science Guy 1: “...Hey, what happens if you put a dead person in the fossil machine?”

Science Guy 2: “Hey, people probably listen better than Pokemon. We can, like, TALK to people.”

Science Guy 3: “Lads, I got a stellar idea just now. And we got plenty of Dead Guys to start with right here! Great way to hide the bodies too, probably.”

This goes approximately as well as you would expect, and precisely as ethically. A smashing success!

However, because they Fucking Died, the reanimated Newly-Monsterized dudes do not remember shit about who they were pre-resurrection. They're not technically even the same people, they’re more like clones. They've been remade. So, all they know now is Science Lab Life, and they have no initial attachment to eachother aside from "that other guy is also a Science Experiment Person just like me, so Same Hat @ Labrat Neighbour ig", in spite of several having been friends or even family prior to death. They also just...don’t know/remember things in general. They are fresh blank slates. And to a morally-bankrupt team of scientists, that’s perfect! They can train these guys to behave however they please!

...However, people might be People Instead Of Animals, meaning they can be Reasoned With And Manipulated And Coerced far better than animals due to their far better communication abilities with the Science People, but...there is Still A Problem in the sense that Holy Shit, A Person Can Only Take So Much. You can only treat someone as "Experiment [number]" for so long, blatantly putting no value on their life outside of The Value Of Scientific Research, in spite of literally basically needing to raise them like a normal child due to the Lack Of Memories issue. Eventually they're not gonna be able to take that anymore and they are gonna Fucking Leave, too. And they’re gonna be much harder to track down than the rampaging Pokemon were. Impossible, actually, once they’ve ripped out their tracking chips.

So then there's just these monster dudes, who don't actually know what they are because they weren't ever told anything more than necessary to get them to cooperate with Tests And Experiments, just Escaped Into Civilization and having NO idea how Anything works. Fun! Especially considering how, at first glance, these just look like Normal Dudes. Their monster bits either aren't apparent or just look like funky body modifications.

They've also got Science Things in them and they Don't Know What The Fuck Those Things Even Are. They've just got these little Devices in/on their chests, and they were never informed of the exact functions of them because there's no reason to explain to the experiment What Is Happening, just that the experiment needs to Hold Still and Cooperate and Now Do This, Now Do This, Now Do That, Good Job That's Enough For Today, etc.

Those devices contain both key stones and mega stones.

If you were a Mad Pokemon Scientist, you would most certainly be interested in the mega evolution phenomenon. What would YOU do if some of your Undead Fusion Experiments happened to be spliced with bits of Pokemon known to be capable of mega evolving? You’d kill two birds with one enigmatic set of stones, that’s what you’d do. Your Frankenstein Experiments can even TALK to you and tell you exactly what they are experiencing when you run tests on them! It’s perfect!

So, if a rock-bearing monster’s heart rate goes too high, part of the little device, which is a barrier between one type of rock and the other, opens up and Exposes One Rock To The Other Rock. Which exposes the monster to the Rock Energy Reaction. The greater the stress, the higher the dose. And I’m sure you can see the snowball effect that’s gonna create, at least the first time or two.

They were INTENDED to eventually be made to Physically Fight With Eachother to gauge the effects of The Rocks™️ when the Guys With The Rocks are under Stress and need to Do Some Self-Defense. The Science Squad was basically trying to suss out the Actual Purpose of mega evolution. Because mega evolution is weird -- it puts ENORMOUS stress on the body of whatever is undergoing it, so the hypothesis was that its true power is probably drawn out best via a perceived life-threatening situation, like it’s a type of hysterical strength, because what else would cause a need for that kind of ability. And aren’t ethics a bit overrated?

So, there’s our premise. White is just wandering around without any particular purpose outside of never ever going back to Science Hell, and he has no clue what the funny little doohickey buried in his chest does until it activates one day and absolutely fucks him up [...as well as everyone around him. Mega Absol radiate an Aura Of Sheer Terror that can literally scare people with weak hearts to death if they’re not careful.]

And now, some Miscellaneous Character Info:

The bit about Lots Of Death happening at a rock concert specifically was important. White was actually the vocalist of the band that was playing. He doesn’t remember that now, but he still loves music and has the same strong vocal cords. And THAT is important because White is partially an Absol now and Absol naturally learns Perish Song. These Fusion Monsters are absolutely capable of using Pokemon moves, though whether they’re aware of this is a different matter entirely. Imagine what happens when they end up tapping into those abilities accidentally.

That band was a relatively-unknown little local band. White was by no means anywhere near famous. Very few people even realized he was gone, and most of the ones who would have noticed also ended up Equally Unalive.

That black stuff between the belts on White’s arms is mesh. Like, stocking mesh. It gets Ripped The Fuck Apart when he goes Mega Mode and his arm fur gets Extra Spiky. Hence one stocking being a bit tattered in that reference pic. He frequently has to replace those things, they are fragile.

“How did White get his name if he doesn’t remember his original name and didn’t have a real name in the lab” I am glad you asked! Post-escape, he eventually encountered a situation where someone asked him what his name was, he bluntly told them “I don’t have one. I am #359.”, they said “Well That Is Not A Name, I need something proper to call you”, and he was just...Super Apathetic. So, the other person picked out the name “White” just based on the fact that White’s hair is white, and he just shrugged and rolled with it.

As you can see in my Incredibly Quick And Rough Sketches, the backs of White’s shirts are open to accommodate that huge amount of fur that bristles out into false wings when he goes Mega Mode. Because his Actual Normal Hair is relatively long and overlaps with that fur, it blends in with his Actual Normal Hair and doesn’t look too odd [when it’s down]. Probably mostly because nobody’s expecting it to be anything OTHER than Perfectly Normal Hair That Just Happens To Be Very Long.

White does not particularly like violence. White does not want to beat you up. He will, though, without a bit of hesitation, if there’s some logical reason he feels like it’s the most practical course of action. Being essentially raised by Cold, Emotionally-Sterile Scientists With No Care For The Wellbeing Other Living Beings uh, tends to affect a guy a little bit. White has a bit of an internal dilemma regarding “It would be efficient for me to just Harm This Other Person to defuse the current situation, because attempting nonviolence will be overall more risky somehow” vs. “Holy shit it feels bad when I hurt people. Why does it feel bad when I hurt people. Is it...SUPPOSED to feel bad when I hurt people?? No one ever felt bad for hurting me.” He Figures Out How Empathy Works Eventually. He is a good guy at heart. He is a Monotone Snarker, but not actually Cold or Malicious at all.

If an Absol can do it, White can probably do it. He has incredibly keen senses and a STRONG ability to Detect Impending Doom. He has exactly the amount of Supernatural Absol Powers you would expect. He is also stupidly physically strong, way more so than he appears to be.

White can’t punch people. Look at the fist he’s making in the pic, he’s doing it wrong. If you punch someone like that, you WILL break your own thumb. That’s not a Revving Up To Sock Someone pose, he’s just tense. He’s using his thumb as a buffer between his long-ass Sharp As Fuck claws and the flesh of his palm. If White tries to punch anybody, or just makes a proper fist at all, he will impale his own hand on his nails. Like, all the way through. He CAN slash straight through things like metal and bone with those claws, though.

White...is unsettling. Completely accidentally, and unknowingly. He just radiates an Aura Of Intimidation [...or Pressure], even when not in Mega Mode, that scales depending on his mood. Just being near him tends to put people and Pokemon on edge. Thus, he’s generally avoided.

The latter point is especially unfortunate, because White’s preferred method of Socializing and Bonding is to just kind of quietly hang out in the same room as whoever he is trying to Socialize and Bond with. He just wants to, like...chill out Near A Buddy and watch a movie and share a bag of chips or something. His social skills are predictably not good.

[teddybasmanov]

I bring to you comrades two d(a)emon song takes – one very basic and one a little less.

First take – very basic:

I’m going to play devil’s advocate here a little. Let’s suppose that Vega wasn’t always such a sick psycho and something (not one big something necessarily, maybe a lot of little somethings) must have messed him up. Then he did what he did and got locked up (for good). Now the demon listener from the department is working with him (on him?). Let’s suppose they get closer and Vega starts feeling that weird emotion towards the inchoate. It’s called trust, you cold-hearted idiot.

Second take – a little less basic:

Somebody, please comfort Cam. Please. I’ve got a song which originally was about my stupid teenage drama freshman year of high school, then it was about how afraid I was of “The Cost” and then the aftermath of “The Cost” happened and it (especially the last part) fits out poor serenity daemon pretty well.

The Songs with my commentaries are below the cut (it’s long).

First take:

Now Billie Eilish’s “Bury a Friend” fits perfectly (here should be a rant about how it’s literally the only song of hers I know and that I only know it because of a “Steven Universe” animatic and that I have an odd need to justify knowing pop songs):

[Chorus]

What do you want from me? Why don't you run from me?

What are you wondering? What do you know?

Why aren't you scared of me? Why do you care for me?

When we all fall asleep, where do we go?

This is fairly obvious – the listener is not scared of him and unexpectedly cares about him and he isn’t sure what do they actually want from him and how much do they know about him (and probably if they’re falling for his manipulations).

Come here

Say it, spit it out, what is it exactly

You're payin'? Is the amount cleanin' you out? Am I satisfactory?

Again the fact that he can’t guess what they want from him and what’s their game drives him crazy.

Today, I'm thinkin' about the things that are deadly

The way I'm drinkin' you down

Like I wanna drown, like I wanna end me

At some point he might just say “Screw it!” and trust the listener completely even if just for one talk (session?) just to know how it feels to turn the manipulation off. 

Step on the glass, staple your tongue

This unexpectedly calls up a line from the other song I’m going to talk about – step on the glass if its contents are already drunk and you don’t need it anymore. That and the whole “bury a friend” thing might be referring to the something that messed him up.

Bury a friend, try to wake up

Cannibal class, killing the son

Bury a friend, I wanna end me

[Chorus]

Listen

Keep you in the dark, what had you expected?

Me to make you my art and make you a star

And get you connected?

He still mostly tries to manipulate the listener and gaslights them when they try to remind him that he was starting to act more openly.

I'll meet you in the park, I'll be calm and collected

But we knew right from the start that you'd fall apart

'Cause I'm too expensive

He mocks them a lot and tells them he’s definitely too complicated for them and he’s going to break them eventually.

It's probably somethin' that shouldn't be said out loud

Honestly, I thought that I would be dead by now (Wow)

Calling security, keepin' my head held down

Bury the hatchet or bury a friend right now

The listener might snap at some point too and, you know, use the fact that they are actually with the department and that Vega is actually a prisoner.

The debt I owe, gotta sell my soul

'Cause I can't say no, no, I can't say no

Then my limbs all froze and my eyes won't close

And I can't say no, I can't say no

Careful

Hi there, paralysis! And maybe, hi there, another reference to something that messed him up. Yes, I know, it’s a cliché that the abused uses the same behaviour as the abuser but I’ve warned you that it’s basic.

[Stuff just repeats again]

Second take:

It’s “Songs of the Unloved” by “Aquarium” (translation mine):

Songs of the unloved.

Songs of the thrown away

Buried without a name.

Immured in the night

Songs of the scratched out from the lists.

Songs of the thrown onto the ice.

The song of the no longer needed

Sounds, does not stop.

He feels useless because he has to bring serenity but he can’t because of the stuff going through his head. He probably also feels used and disposed of.

We have a good school -

Light up from burning snakes;

Rip out your own heart

To become even angrier.

Keep the head underwater

Do not let to inhale;

And break off the blade after the hit

Because God is with us.

Pain and indifference make good people cruel.

Step on the glass

If it was drunk;

Head in a noose

And out with belongings.

Lord open up to me

The Mystery of Being;

Look into my eyes

And say that this is Your will.

Again. The same thing – destroyed when becomes useless. The whole song is basically about the same thing. And it hurts.

You can wait a long time for the sun

Looking with blind eyes at the zenith;

We had a crystal bell inside.

It has been stepped on; it doesn’t ring anymore.

Oh my god, do I even need to say something here? Thinking about this line makes me cry.

This music is older than the world;

It is ridiculous and funny;

But I will dance to it

Even if it is not audible.

 For an affectionate soul -

An iron dress.

With blood on the sand -

‘All people are brothers’.

I don’t need anymore Your

Mysteries of Being.

Just look into my eyes

And say that this is Your will.

All the soft and caring people get ruined by this world. It hurts so much that I don’t want to know why. I just need to know that somebody knows.

 I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so gloomy but the last Camelopardalis audio and this song both are just so dark and hopeless.

If anybody wants to write a songfic (or two) – be my guest, I’ll probably never get to. 

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Lucifer/Satan

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Please allow me to introduce this villain. He’s a man of wealth and taste...

Satan, or Lucifer, or whatever of the hundreds of names across multiple religions, folk tales, urban legends, movies, books, songs, video games, and more that you choose to call him, is without a doubt the biggest bad of them all. He is not just a villain; he is the villain, the bad guy your other bad guys answer to, the lord of Hell. If there’s a bad deed, he’s done it, if there’s a problem, he’s behind it. There’s nothing beneath him, and that’s not just because he’s at the very bottom of Hell. He is the root cause of all the misery in the entire world.

And if we’re talking about Satan, we gotta talk about Lucifer too. They weren’t always supposed to be one and the same, but over centuries of artistic depictions and reimaginings they’ve been conflated into one being, a being that is a lot more layered and interesting than just a simple adversary for the good to overcome when handled properly.

Motivation/Goals: Look, it’s Satan. His main goal is to be as evil as possible, do bad things, cause mischief and mayhem. Rarely does anything good come from Satan being around. If he is one and the same as Lucifer, expect there to be some sort of plot about him rebelling against God, as according to modern interpretations Lucifer fought against God in battle and was then cast out, falling from grace like lightning. When the Lucifer persona is front and center, raging against the heavens tends to be a big part of his schemes, but when the big red devil persona is out and about, expect temptations to sin, birthing the Antichrist, or tempting people to sell their souls.

Performance: Satan has been portrayed by far too many people over the years to even consider keeping count of, though some notable performances of the character or at least characters who are clearly meant to be Satan include the nuanced anti-villain take of the character Viggo Mortensen portrayed in The Prophecy; the sympathetic homosexual man portrayed by Trey Parker in South Park and its film; the hard-rocking badass Dave Grohl portrayed in Tencaious D’s movie; Robin Hughes as a sneaky, double-crossing bastard in “The Howling Man” episode of The Twilight Zone; the big red devil from Legend known as Darkness, played by Tim Curry; the shapeshifting angel named Satan from The Adventures of Mark Train who will make you crap your pants; and while not portrayed by anyone due to being entirely voiceless, Chernabog from Disney’s Fantasia is definitely noteworthy in regards to cinematic depictions of the devil.

Final Thoughts & Score: Satan is a villain whose sheer scope dwarfs almost every other villain in history. It’s not even remotely close, either; Satan pops up in stories all around the world, is the greater-scope villain of most varieties of three major religions, and his very name is shorthand for “really, really evil.” Every other villain I have ever discussed and reviewed wishes they could be a byword for being bad to the bone. Even Dracula, one of the single most important villains in fiction, looks puny in comparison to Satans villainous accomplishments.

Satan in old religious texts tended to be an utterly horrifying force of nature, until Medieval times began portray him as a dopey demon trying to tempt the faithful (and failing). Folklore and media have gone back and forth, portraying both in equal measure – you have the desperate, fiddle-playing devil from “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” and the unseen, unfathomable Satan who may or may not exist in the Marvel comics universe who other demons live in fear of the return of. Satan is just a very interesting and malleable antagonist, one who is defined just enough that he can make a massive, formidable force while still being enough of a blank slate that you can project any sort of personality traits onto him to build an intriguing foe.

One of the most famous examples of this in action is the common depiction of Satan as the king of hell. This doesn’t really have much basis in religion; he’s as much a prisoner as anyone else, though considering how impressive a prisoner he is, he’d be like the big guy at the top of the pecking order in any jail for sure. But still, the idea of Satan as the ruler of hell was clearly conceived by someone and proved such an intriguing concept that so many decided to run with it.

I think that’s what truly makes Satan such an interesting villain, in that he’s almost a community-built antagonist. People over the ages have added so much lore, personality, and power to him that is only vaguely alluded to in old religions to the point where they have all become commonplace in depictions of the big guy, and there really isn’t any other villain to have quite this magnitude on culture as a whole. It shouldn’t be any shock that Satan is an 11/10; rating him any lower would be a heinous crime only he is capable of.

But see, the true sign of how amazing he is is the sheer number of ways one can interpret him. You have versions that are just vague embodiments of all that is bad and unholy, such as Chernabog from Fantasia, you have more nuanced portrayals like the one Viggo Mortensen played in The Prophecy, you have outright sympathetic ones like the one from South Park… Satan is just a villain who can be reshaped and reworked as a creator sees fit and molded into something that fits the narrative they want. I guess what I’m trying to say is that not only is Lucifer/Satan one of the greatest villains of all, he’s also one of the single greatest characters of all time.  

Now, there are far too many depictions of Satan for me to have seen them all, but I have seen quite a lot. Here’s how Old Scratch has fared over the millennia in media of various forms, though keep in mind this is by no means a comprehensive or exhaustive lsit:

“The Devil Went Down to Georgia” Devil: 

I think this is one of my favorite devils in any fiction ever, simply because of what a good sport he is. Like, there is really no denying that Johnny’s stupid little fiddle ditty about chickens or whatever sucks major ass, and yet Satan (who had moments before summoned up demonic hordes to rip out some Doom-esque metal for the contest) gave him the win and the golden fiddle. What a gracious guy! He’s a 9/10 for sure, though I still wish we knew how his rematch ended…

Chernabog: 

Chernabog technically doesn’t do anything evil, and he never says a word, and yet everything about him is framed as inherently sinister. It’s really no wonder Chernabog has become one of the most famous and beloved parts of Fantasia alongside Yen Sid and Sorcerer Mickey; he’s infinitely memorable, and really, how can he not be? He’s the devil in a Disney film, not played for laughs and instead made as nightmarishly terrifying as an ancient demon god should be. Everything about him oozes style, and every movement and gesture begets a personality that goes beyond words. Chernabog doesn’t need to speak to tell you that he is evil incarnate; you just know, on sight, that he is up to no good.

Quite frankly, the implications of Chernabog’s existence in the Disney canon are rather terrifying. Is he the one Maleficent called upon for power? Is he the one all the villains answer to? Do you think Frollo saw him after God smote him? And what exactly did he gain by attacking Sora at the end of Kingdom Hearts? All I know for sure is that Chernabog is a 10/10.

Lucifer (The Prophecy): 

Viggo Mortensen has limited screentime, but in that time he manages to be incredibly creepy, misanthropic… and yet, also, on the side of good. Of course, he’s doing it entirely for self-serving reasons (he wants humanity around so he can make them suffer), but credit where credit is due. The man manages to steal a scene from under Christopher Walken, I think that’s worth a 10/10.

Satan (South Park): 

Portraying Satan as a sympathetic gay man was a pretty bold choice, and while he certainly does fall into some stereotypes, he’s not really painted as bad or morally wrong for being gay, and ends up more often than not being a good (if sometimes misguided) guy who just wants to live his life. Plus he gets a pretty sweet villain song, though technically it’s more of an “I want” song than anything. Ah well, a solid 8/10 for him is good.

Satan (Tenacious D):

It’s Dave Grohl as Satan competing in a rock-off against JB and KG. Literally everything about this is perfect, even if he’s only in the one scene. 10/10 for sure.

Robot Devil:

Futurama’s take on the devil is pretty hilarious and hammy, but then Futurama was always pretty on point. He’s a solid 8/10, because much like South Park’s devil he gets a fun little villain song with a guest apearance by the Beastie Boys, not to mention his numerous scams like when he stole Fry’s hands. He’s just a fun, hilarious asshole.

The Howling Man: 

The Twilight Zone has many iconic episodes, and this one is absolutely one of them. While the devil is the big twist, that scene of him transforming as he walks between the pillars is absolutely iconic, and was even used by real-life villain Kevin Spacey in the big reveal of The Usual Suspects. This one is a 9/10 for sure, especially given the ending that implies this will all happen again (as per usual with the show).

The Darkness:

While he’s more devil-adjacent than anything and is more likely to be the son of Satan rather than the actual man himself, it’s hard not to give a shout-out to the big, buff demon played by Tim Curry in some of the most fantastic prosthetics and makeup you will ever see. He gets a 9/10 for the design alone, the facty he’s Tim Curry is icing on the cake.

[thewhizzyhead]

i've been thinking a lot about my opinion towards boleyn's characterization in six which then caused my brain to go on full analysis mode on how the solos in six set up the whole story and all like we have aragon's no way, the first solo song in the show, and that tells us what to expect from the queens and the rest of the show: a fun funky pop concert musical with lots and lots of queens doing a cardio workout in heels. This sets the atmosphere and tone of the show as "very fun you will enjoy this".

Then next up is boleyn's don't lose your head: at first the boleyn introduction sets her up as some conniving cunning infamous queen...which then pans to boleyn taking a selfie so at that point what the show is doing to the audience is made clear: building up their expectations based on prior and popular knowledge about the queens and subverting them and that is exactly what happens to DLYH. Right from the get go we think that "oooohhh this is gonna be a bop" and then at the last minute (this is more evident in the audios and bootlegs) we see boleyn panicking, yelling "What was I meant to do????" three times. How we see Boleyn throughout the course of that 4 minutes changes so suddenly and the fact that this sudden change was put so early in the show makes the audience think that "oHHHHHHHHH so there's more than meets the eye here okay".

At that point the audience will subconsciously be expecting more subversions and whiplashes because that's the standard that has been set by DLYH ... which is why i fucking love the whiplash from Heart of Stone to Haus of Fucking Holbein SERIOUSLY IT'S GENIUS WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT WHAHAHAHAHA HOW THIS SHOW KEEPS THE AUDIENCE ON ITS TOES WITH ITS SUBVERSIONS AND WHIPLASHES. But besides the point, placing Heart Of Stone right after the boppity bop with a master's degree at nuance and subversion that is Don't Lose Ur Head is kinda smart because like I said, due to the subtle but still noticeable tonal shifts present in Boleyn's song, the standard of "there is so much more than meets the eye" has been set and seeing the show go from dancing queens to emotional ballads within the first 30 minutes of the show solidifies that.

Then after the glorious acid trip that is Haus of Holbein, which btw also keeps up the subversion pattern of the show by a. Providing an acid trip out of fucking nowhere, b. Providing social commentary about ridiculous beauty standards within said acid trip and c. Providing a 16th century parody about fucking tinder, we are back to step 1: making the audience expect that this is a funky fun musical with queens doing cardio workouts, this time through Cleves. Aside from providing good subversions of the standards set through showing that cleves, unlike the rest of the queens, actually had a pretty damn good life i mean sitting here all alone on a throne in a palace that i happen to own heck the entirety of Get Down is just Cleves flexing on everyone really, this also sets up the feel good all is fun atmosphere which is incredibly essential for Katherine Howard's 7 minute solo.

so yes all you wanna do is a masterpiece and how the show sets up the atmosphere right before and during the song is amazing. You still got happy vibes all around because yay cleves flexing, then u get even more happy vibes because oh look the youngest one in the group gives damn good clapbacks, then u get even MORE happy vibes when the lights turn all pink and K Howard goes "I'm the ten amongst these threes" cause YAY THIS GIVES BOLEYN-SONG-ISH-VIBES, and then all those happy vibes get snatched away, ripped to pieces and burned in the fiery pits of hell when K Howard says "I was 13 going on 30". anD THEN ALL OF THE REMAINING HAPPY VIBES GET FORCEFULLY RIPPED OUT YOUR HEART WHEN K HOWARD HAS A FUCKING MENTAL BREAKDOWN BY THE LAST MINUTE OF THE SONG.

Yayyyyyyyyy.

One thing I've noticed is that contrast is incredibly helpful in fully realizing the intensity of a color, sound, or story and this is especially shown here. The contrast between Aragon and Boleyn's song style, the contrast of happy dlyh to WHAT WAS I MEANT TO DO???, the contrast between dlyh and hos, the contrast between hos and haus of holbein, and especially the contrast between get down and all you wanna do AND especially the contrast between the initial atmosphere of all you wanna do and k howard's mental breakdown. Six just pulls off the contrasting elements and the thematic subversions so fucking well that the point of "There's more than meets the eye" is especially evident at this point of the show and it is especially driven home when K Howard ends her song to the point that there are a few seconds of uncomfortable silence before people decide to clap. Plus the uncomfortable atmosphere is incredibly impactful when by that point of the show you see the queens rEALLY being petty with each other which is why I can see why Parr reacted the way she did when she was called on for her performance and why she only just spoke up now about how wrong the whole competition really is (aside from well you know chronological order) which leads to emotional mellow ballad part 2, thus following Seymour's pattern while subverting the expectations when Parr's song becomes a rallying song for the queens to end the competition and not pit each other against one another; Parr's song also subverts the established Seymour Pattern by ending it on a literal and figuratively speaking high note.

So all in all i am personally so impressed by how the musical plays with the audience by building up their expectations and keeping them on their toes til the very end by subverting each and every one of the established patterns and standards, especially those based on popular (and mostly wrong) assumptions about the queens. Like it's really really good and I'm a bit mad at myself for just realizing this now after a year and a half of stanning SIX. Soooo yeah the S in SIX stands for subversion thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[ao3bronte]

Obey

3 | 4 | 5

Warnings: Characters are aged up but still drinking underage (legal drinking age is 18 in France). Wild parties, hypnosis and NSFW themes will ensue.

Marinette can still taste Kagami’s gloss on her lips when she literally runs into the boy she’d been watching all evening, crashing straight against his chest with an audible thud. He catches her in his arms and it’s like heaven and hell all over again, his long fingers and wide palms digging into her hips in recognition.

“Marinette,” he whispers breathlessly, like a prayer, “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Glancing upwards, Marinette gazes into the eyes of her former boyfriend and freezes, “Luka.”

He looks as if he has too much to say and begins to stammar, ten different sentences coming out all at once. It’s all Marinette can do to keep it together as she hears her own feelings rushing up past her ears and flooding her synapses until she’s nearly overwhelmed by the flurry of it all. She grapples to get a hold of herself, if only to let her newly exposed confidence take hold once more, and stands her ground.

Still thoroughly afflicted, he eventually comes to his senses, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“I…” Luka’s eyes widen, “I wish we never broke up.” As clearly as Mesmer’s spell had brought about Marinette’s true confidence, Luka’s long held contrition is revealing itself the only way it knows how, “I hate using words. I’m terrible at them. I can’t...I can’t always make them work.”

Marinette’s heart begins to break all over again, “It’s okay.”

“No it isn’t!” Luka cries out, “I thought I was over you! I thought we were friends again, and we are friends, and when you showed up tonight with that cake in that dress, I just...I really thought I could put my feelings aside. And then Mesmer came and messed everything up!”

“Luka…” she cups his cheek in her palm, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says, seeming to crumble with every word, “None of this is your fault. I should have never followed you home that night…”

She grimaces, “You were just looking out for me.”

“I should have trusted that you would be alright,” he curses through gritted teeth, “And instead, I ruined our relationship forever.”

And it did ruin it, in a way. Marinette knew how much danger Luka would be in now that he was aware of her identity, and although he swore to keep it a secret forever, she knew that being close with him would only put him in harm’s way, “We’ll always be friends, Luka. You know that.”

“But I don’t want to be just friends!” 

Marinette startles, transfixed by the way Mesmer’s spell has affected him; she’s never known him to be this emotional before, his usual even keel clearly a guise for the passionate, raw emotions he’s been hiding from the world, “Luka…”

“I know, I know,” he tugs on his bangs and Marinette has never seen his veneer crack quite like this, “I’m wrong and you’re right and you have every right to just throw me overboard right now but...just please, give me one more night together.”

“One more night?” Marinette struggles to catch her breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Please,” he begs her, “I want to spend the rest of tonight with you. I want to show you how much you mean to me because I’ve always wanted to show you how important you are but...I didn’t want to push you awa—”

Marinette presses a finger to his lips and is briefly reminded of his akuma form so many years before, “Luka. Take a deep breath.”

He listens, enraptured by her sway over him. He would follow her to the depths of the earth if she asked him to and she knows this, which is why the teal band of Miraculous energy she’d given him over one year ago still remains wound around his wrist, “Please, Marinette. I love you.”

“I know you do,” Marinette drags him down and presses her forehead against his, locking eyes. She drinks in the smell of whiskey and cologne on his skin and wishes she could taste it on her tongue. It’s forbidden now, of course; everything about their relationship has to stay locked into the past...

...or does it?

“Mesmer…” she trails off, an idea suddenly illuminating like a lightning bulb above her head, “She gave us the power to reveal what we’ve been hiding inside of us.”

Luka nods, entranced as she pulls the strings of her thoughts together, “You’re Ladybug on the inside. It’s why everyone is hypnotized by you tonight. They’re seeing the real Marinette shine through.”

“And you’ve been hiding your true feelings inside for too long,” she presses her palm to his chest, touching his heart, “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Everything,” Marinette guides him over to a bulkhead and sits him down, anchoring him to the boat by draping her legs over his lap, “Tell me everything, you’ll feel better after.”

“I won’t even remember telling you,” he huffs, “Once you cure everyone, our memories of tonight will vanish.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Marinette shrugs, “But it will make you feel better nonetheless.”

Luka hesitates, “Why aren’t you out there catching the akuma anyway?”

“Don’t change the subject,” she wags her finger at him, “But now that you brought it up, I know you won’t drop it.”

“Well?”

“Because I’m having fun,” she shrugs, “The one night I decide to let loose and party is the night Le Papillon decides to unleash a new akuma and…well, she’s not even a bad akuma. She’s not ripping things up or killing people. If anything, she’s giving us all a chance to break out of our shells.”

“I really love you,” Luka blurts, and Marinette knows without a shadow of a doubt that Mesmer’s spell has given him the gift of blunt honesty, “I mean...I mean, you know, you’re just...really smart.”

“Thank you,” she laughs, ignoring the pang in her chest as he begins to drum along to the rhythm of Fedde Le Grand’s latest bop against her thighs, “But now it’s time for you to share.”

Luka sighs and Marinette has never forgotten how much tension he holds in his shoulders when he tries to hold himself back. It’s obvious to her now, her rose coloured glasses entirely absent as Ladybug’s pragmatic view of the world takes over her senses, “When we broke up, I...I wrote so many songs about you. Love songs, break up songs, songs about what our love could be, or could have been. Kiss Me Twice, the record that got me all the attention in the first place, is about you.”

She’d had her suspicions, but the old Marinette never wanted to consider the possibility that the lines ‘bruising kisses, she’s all business, until she’s bare to me’ was about her.

“I signed a record label because of you. I’m going on tour with Jagged Stone because of you. Everything good that’s ever happened to me is because of you, except I can’t have you. And everytime I look at my guitar or I walk into the recording studio, I think about you and it hurts, Marinette. It hurts like hell.”

“If I had just trusted you instead of being so damn...I don't know, protective I guess,” Luka sighs, “I was mad you weren't getting an Uber and I followed you until you got to the Métro and…" he trails off, "I ruined everything."

"I never should have agreed to date you in the first place," Marinette responds and immediately regrets it, "Not that I didn't want to. I still want to, but I put you and Juleka and your mom in danger and...I shouldn't have even considered it, especially with the way that Le Papillon seems to hurt everyone I love."

Luka's eyes grow sadder, "Did you mean it?"

"What?"

"That you still want to be with me?"

Marinette stills, "In another life, I'd still be spending my free nights with you learning how to play the guitar and playing Mecha Strike 3. If Le Papillon wasn't around…"

"We could be together."

"We could be together," she confirms, lacing her fingers with his, "But Le Papillon is still out there."

"He is."

"And I can't have him use our relationship against us."

"We can't."

"But…"

Luka's eyebrows disappear beneath his bangs, "But…?"

"We could be reckless, just for one night."

She delights as he short circuits, her smug expression never waning even as he threatens to topple ass over tit off the ship and into the Seine.

“Come closer,” she says, tugging him by the collar of his Jagged Stone t-shirt. He slumps forward and lands on her chest, exactly where she wants him, “Listen to my heart song, Luka. What does it say?”

Luka presses his ear to her beating heart and promptly lets his jaw fall to the floor.

~

Down in his bedroom, Luka’s shaking fingers slide across the fretboard as he sings her a song he’d buried between the pages of a guitar magazine so no one would ever find it.

“Bright blue eyes and rosy cheeks, she stars in my fantasies, In nothing but a lacy bra and matching pink panties. When she knocks me off my feet, she lingers on the wall, ‘Till she crawls on top of me, and I can’t help but fall.

She’s my dream girl, my fantasy girl, My lover every night. We dance together between the sheets, ‘Till I turn on the light.”

“I’ll never actually record it,” he blushes, ducking his head, “And I never ever ever thought I would actually share this with anyone, let alone you, but—”

“I think it’s wonderful,” Marinette grabs his guitar by the neck and wrenches it out of his hands, “But how about I give you something to really write about.”

Luka gulps, “I don’t think I thought this through.”

“What’s the matter?” Marinette sets his guitar down in its stand and cocks her hip, perfectly aware of the affect she’s having on him in this moment; it’s the same feeling she’d always enjoyed causing back when Chat Noir was still pursuing her, even if it had been an annoyance at the time, “We’re rebelling, remember?”

His expression changes, his nervous blush growing deeper as his gaze narrows with intensity. It’s the perfect look on him, lips slightly parted, his blue hair mussed just the way she’d always liked. She wants to bury her fingers in his hair just because she can; it’s her job to make everyone feel loved tonight, after all.

Except this time, she’s about to get some love in return.

Arching her back just a little, Marinette stalks toward him in time with the beat of the music still blaring from the DJ booth upstairs. His knees buckle beneath him and falls onto his mattress, his wide eyes trained on her.

The old Marinette never would have dreamed of doing something like this but the new Marinette, the confident and fearless woman who dons skintight red and spots every other day while kicking ass and taking names, is kind of excited to watch him squirm. Her pulse begins to race as she watches her affect on him play clear as day over his features, awe and wonder and giddy lust urging on her addiction. She likes the way his hunger makes her feel as if she’s holding all of the cards in her hand, the ultimate power move in her favour.

She stops right at the edge of his bed, stepping in between his spread knees. She runs her hands up and down her torso until they falter at her hips, the implications of her motions suddenly coming into focus for both of them. If she grabs the hem and pulls her dress up and over her head, she’ll be left in nothing but a bra and matching panties. 

Luka’s entire body seems to twitch as she fights to come to a decision.

“You only live once, right?”

It sounds silly once she says it, but then again, that’s kind of the whole point. And that point goes flying over Luka’s head as quickly as Marinette shimmies her handmade gown up her body centimetre by centimetre, flinging the handmade dress at him with a sultry smirk.

Catching it in his quivering fingers, Luka brings it to his nose and inhales, “You were burning my candle when you made this, weren’t you?”

“I was,” Marinette says, quelling her nerves with the sound of his voice hitting the lowest octaves she’s ever heard, “It helps me focus.”

“Does it remind you of me?”

She rolls her hips towards him, “Always.”

“Good,” he hums, his wide eyes sweeping her nearly bare form. His gaze finds her face again eventually and his expression is so reverent that Marinette feels her heart start racing, reminded of a time when every errant touch and glance used to set her skin on fire. The old Marinette swore to get over her relationship with Luka for his safety but the new Marinette is willing to take a chance; she's Lady Luck after all, and tonight she holds all the cards.

She leans forward, giving him quite the eyeful of her décolletage, "Touch me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, “You’re amazing.”

“You’re pretty amazing yourself,” she rolls her hips in his direction and the look he gives her is so gentle, so reverent, that it motivates her even further to break free from her invisible restraints and soar. 

“Am I?” he whispers, sweeping his calloused fingers up her sides. He presses one palm to the small of her back and urges her forwards, drunk on the vision before him. He’s seen her in a bikini before but he’s never gotten to touch her like this, their intentions clear between them. She wants to be touched and who is he to deny her?

“Take off your shirt for me,” she says and he flings it off his body in an instant, tossing it across the room. She hums in appreciation and wraps her arms around his neck, settling herself in his lap, “Luka.”

“Y-yes?” Luka shudders, his voice rumbling low in his chest. She begins to move her pelvis in small circles and he gasps, his hands coming down hard on her hips and backside. Luka tries to fill his memories of this moment and hopes that if he focuses hard enough, he’ll never forget. 

Marinette groans, relishing in the pressure of his erection against her core. She can’t believe she’s doing this, but then again, this is a Marinette without reservations. A confident Marinette. A sexual Marinette. A Marinette who is fully and completely in control of her wants and desires, no matter how forward. He’s so hard and she’s never seen him look this wrecked before; she never wants to stop.

“I want you,” she murmurs, leaning forwards. She presses her lips to his and the electricity between them spreads like wildfire, sizzling up her spine and spreading through her veins. She’s hungry and he’s her feast as he parts his lips and allows her to ravish him, kissing him absolutely senseless. He makes sounds she’s never heard before and she craves them, cupping his cheeks in both hands as an anchor against the onslaught of lust that’s sweeping her away.

His fingers tighten against her hipbones and Marinette loves the way it stings, the strength in his hands a direct contrast to the way he’d been touching her before. She senses the moment he lets go when he wraps his arms around her fully to erase the space between them, pulling her flush against his chest. Marinette moans into his mouth and he responds in kind while she continues to grind against him, the sensation like nothing she’s ever felt before.

“You feel amazing,” she gasps against his lips, pulling back for a moment as he reaches around to unclasp her bra. It takes a few moments for her to shrug the straps from her shoulders and Luka’s eyes sing with molten heat as he drinks her bare chest in for the first time. The old Marinette would have blushed under such scrutiny but the new Marinette simply waits for him to peel his jaw off the floor.

“Marinette…” he chokes on his words, his hands unable to stay idle. He cradles each of her breasts in his palms and brushes his thumbs across her nipples, powerless to tear his eyes away as she inhales against the feeling, so new and addictive. He does it again and again until Marinette is mewling, the pace of her hips increasing, and when he finally looks up at her face again, it’s with the implicit understanding that if they go any further, there will be no holding back.

“I want it,” she throws her head back as he grasps her breasts and squeezes, “It feels good.”

Luka doesn’t have the ability to answer, his tongue thoroughly tied as he pulls one hand back to unfasten the button of his jeans. She watches him as he tugs the zipper down his length, exposing a sliver of his bright purple boxers beneath.

“Are you sure?” his voice hitches as she shimmies backwards, giving him a chance to push his jeans down his thighs. She nods as he steps out of them, gnawing on her lower lip.

“I’ve thought about this moment,” she admits, unable to keep herself from telling the truth even if she tried. The old Marinette had certainly mulled over her first time, with the boys in her fantasies alternating between Luka and the forbidden boy she was determined to let go of, “And I want it to be with you.”

“Oh god,” Luka babbles, barely able to stop himself from shaking. His hands twitch at his sides before reaching out and settling on her hips once again, “Can I?”

“Yes,” she whispers, shivering as he hooks his thumbs into the straps of her panties and drags them down her bare legs. When he looks up, he falls back onto the bed and locks eyes with her, his expression wrecked and helpless all at once. 

“Your turn.”

It takes a moment for his brain to catch up with her words, his gaze impossible to shake as he blindly pulls his boxers off. His erection bobs and Marinette’s eyes widen as she catches a glimpse of something she’s only seen in a textbook. 

“Marinette…” He squirms under her gaze, bashful at the prospect of being completely naked in front of her. His hands start twitching again for something to do and he drives his fingers into his bedspread and clenches, the sheets bunching while he tries to fight for his composure, “I…”

She silences him with a kiss, quelling both of their nerves as she slides back into his lap. He cries out a little as his cock brushes against the skin of her belly, sending a lightning strike up his spine.

“Remember what I told you?”

Luka pulls away and melts like putty in her arms, “Please…”

“Yes,” she breathes, “And whatever you do, don’t hold back.”

[saiilorstars]

Falling in Temptation

Previous chapters • Sequel to Stars Dance •  Fairy Tale Memoirs (Companion story)

Ch. 29: A Pond, a Williams or a Reynolds?

Fandom: Doctor Who // Pairing: 11th Doctor x OFC

Chapter summary: Tying up loose ends means the time has come for River Song to give up her daughter so she'll grow up to become the one and only Avalon Reynolds...who will travel the stars...and ultimately (and inadvertently) lead to her own mother's creation. And, to the Doctor’s misfortune, it’s his task to see it through.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother​ @anotherunreadblog​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​ @stareyedplanet​ @perfectlystiles​

[If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message!]

A newborn baby girl gurgled as a nurse passed her to her mother. Her bright blue eyes were glued to her mother, whose eyes nearly matched, while she listened to her first poem.

'A little fairy comes at night,

Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown'

with silver spots upon her wings,

And from the moon she flutters down.

She has a little silver wand

And when a good child goes to bed

She waves a hand from right to the left

And makes a circle round its head.

And then it dreams of pleasant things,

Of fountains filled with fairy fish

And trees that bear delicious fruit

And bow their branches at a wish.

Of arbors filled with dainty scents,

From lovely flowers that never fade,

Bright flies that glitter in the sun

And glow-worms shining in the shade

And talking birds with gifted tongues

For singing songs and telling tales

And pretty dwarfs to show the way

Through fairy hills and fairy dales.

A little fairy comes at night,

her eyes are blue and her hair is brown

With silver spots upon her wings

And from the moon she flutters down'

"You remember that nursery song?" Amy questioned as soon as River finished the nursery. She sat on the side of the bed while Rory sat on the other side.

"Yeah," River nodded distractedly. She couldn't take her eyes off her beautiful baby in her arms. She so small. It was unbelievable to think who this baby would grow up to be.

"You're alright?" Rory asked her after a few minutes had gone by in silence.

"Father, I am beyond alright," River looked up with a smile. "Look at her, she's beautiful. And she's mine." As if to comment, the baby gurgled at them.

"I know she is," Rory peered down at the newborn with a similar smile. "But I also know, we know, what's coming…"

"And what's happened," Amy finished for him.

River had 'killed' the Doctor and as the law demanded, she was to be incarcerated as soon as the hospital discharged her. Her daughter's fate was still to be decided. Stormcage allowed for a child to remain with their parent until they were of age. River had yet to say what she wanted.

"Have you named her yet?" Amy asked as she reached over to toddle with the baby's small fingers. She looked remarkably like River did when she was a baby, except her granddaughter had that tuft of bright orange hair on her head.

"Well, Avalon," River nodded. "Because of her father. Oliver wanted her to be named after the Arthurian legend. He was such a nerd sometimes…" She felt the tears pricking her eyes but she pushed them away. She didn't want to cry yet, that was coming later. "And Harmony."

"For Melody," Rory smiled, knowing the story all too well. It was so odd watching it happen in front of him.

"Avalon Harmony...Pond," River knew exactly what was coming with that sentence and she laughed when Rory huffed.

"Uuh, no," Rory shook his head, "That would be Williams. She's a Williams," he looked at baby Avalon with a soft smile, "You're a Williams."

"Pond, she's a Pond," Amy said with a dead serious face.

"One would say she's a Reynolds," Lena appeared at the doorway, smiling softly at them. "And she's one wonderful, tough sister." River smiled at her and couldn't help. but try to peek around to see if someone else was with her. Lena shook her head. "Avalon's outside. She says it's too dangerous to be in the same place as her younger self. Plus, she thinks it's weird."

"No, that makes perfect sense," River nodded. That was actually very responsible of Avalon.

Lena came forwards and took a peek at the baby. "She's so cute. Hard to believe she gets a mouth on her later on." Her comment caused a series of snickers between them. "So, what are you going to call her?"

River pulled the pink blanket just a bit from the baby's face. She was falling asleep again. Such an innocent little thing she was. "Well, I want to name her as Avalon Harmony Pond."

"The newest Pond," Amy chuckled when the baby yawned. "And what a sleepy Pond she is!" She fiddled with the tiny hand resting over the blanket.

"What a lovely Pond she will be." The Doctor had arrived in the room with a familiar cot in his hands. Just looking at it froze Any and Rory but River only stared at it, close to tears.

It was getting time to decide; decide what had already been decided.

"Wait, what if...well," Amy started suddenly, exchanging gazes with Rory. "We were talking earlier, and...we sort of came up with an alternative."

Rory agreed with a nod, "We, um...we take Avalon in," he nodded to the baby, "I mean, we have a house, a life on Earth. We could take her and raise her and still bring her to you every day."

River took the alternative into consideration, but her eyes landed on the Doctor. He wasn't saying anything. This was all on her. "If she grows up with you two, her entire history will be rewritten. It's as the Doctor said. She needs to exist so that I can exist...and I need to exist, so that she can exist. We are one complicated space-time loop, aren't we?" Her sour smile helped nothing.

"I just don't want you to go through the same thing I had to," Amy curled her hand around River's arm. "Because that is not a pain you can get over. I look at you now and it still hurts to know that I couldn't raise you."

"I know...but time's already happened." Every time she came to the same conclusion, a deep pain stabbed her heart. "I'm choosing to give her up just like I already had. I am not abandoning my child, I am giving her up so that she can grow up with a much better life. She'll have a family with the Reynolds, she'll have siblings…" She partially looked up to see Lena smiling sadly at her, "She'll have a Mother in Emmalina Reynolds. She'll get to discover that she wants to write, that she would love to travel. I want her to have dreams. I don't want her to be trapped in my prison cell. She didn't commit a crime." And technically, neither had she but the world needed to believe otherwise.

"River, she didn't exactly have the best of lives living in leadworth," Lena felt compelled to remind River seeing as she herself was a big culprit of Avalon's stunted life in the small town. "She had to take care of me, she had to deal with the small headed people of Leadworth."

"I know," River sighed, closing her eyes. Tears still leaked through. "But it would still be a far better life than the one she would live with me until her 18th birthday."

"I guess that's it then," Amy said quietly, rubbing her hand down River's arm. "I'm very proud of you. And I'm very sorry."

River nodded. "Could I just have a moment with her please? Five minutes."

"Of course," Rory nodded. He gave her a side hug and got up from the bed with Amy.

Together, the others left the room but the Doctor left behind the small cot on the side. The only sound in the room afterwards was the small clock ticking and the occasional noises the baby would make.

"It's so unfair that we only just met," Rover said with a sigh. She carefully pressed the baby's hair down. It seemed like even as a newborn, Avalon had already inherited her mother's bushy hair. "But if there's one thing that I need you to understand it's that I'm not abandoning you. I'll always be in the corners, watching over you and making sure you're safe. Every time you wonder why you didn't fall, or why you fell asleep without a blanket and you wake up with one...it'll be because of me. I'll take the long way and wait for you to grow up so I can tell you who I am."

The baby slowly opened her eyes, as if she knew she was on the receiving end of a very important talk.

"I just want you to understand that I love you so much. I know things in Leadworth won't be easy but this is really the best pathway for you. You will be brave and you will be strong. And just so we're clear, if anyone tries to mess with you, you have my full permission to deal with them accordingly." River was able to smile when the baby gurgled. It was like she understood. "One day, you and I will be mother and daughter, I promise. You just have fun in the meantime, maybe travel the stars or something. I think you'd be very good at that."

She held her daughter close to her, careful not to squeeze her...but she wanted to soak up every moment she had. She couldn't imagine what her life would be like without her daughter and she wasn't eager to find out. She wished things could be different but their lives were never meant to be ordinary. The Pond cycle continued.

When the group returned it was a very silent moment. River held onto her baby as much as she could until the Doctor held his arms out for her. He despised being on the other end. He was taking a mother's child away, the exact thing he never wanted to do to either of them. He was responsible for Amy losing her own baby and now he was doing the same again. How terrible was he?

River ultimately let her baby go but it was almost like the Doctor had to rip the infant away because otherwise the moment would've happened for ages. As soon as the baby was in his arms, Amy and Rory grabbed River's hands. She squeezed them as she fought off the stream of tears going down her face. She looked up only once and it was in time to see the Doctor leaving the room with her baby. When the door closed behind him, she burst into sobs.

~ 0 ~

"Big brother, can I come with you?" Lena was already tailing the Doctor down the hospital hallways. The question was a formality.

"Why would you want to be a part of this, baby sister?" The Doctor was making quick strides down the hallway and Lena saw it. He was trying to get the hell out of there as if that would make everything less terrible.

"Because clearly present-Avalon can't be with you right now and Amy and Rory are with River! Someone's got to be there with you, otherwise you're going to blame yourself!" Lena finally understood what Avalon had been trying to do back in Leadworth. The Doctor on his own for 200 years was his own type of punishment that released all the dark, self-loathing thoughts. She didn't want that to happen, not again.

"Lena, I have to do this on my own."

"No, you don't!" Lena finally grabbed his arm to stop him just outside the hospital. He wanted to keep the TARDIS out of the hospital in case there were any Silence nearby. She slowly turned the Doctor around and briefly looked down at the cot in his hand. Baby Avalon was fast asleep again. "You're going to go back in time to see my dad just before I was born so you can give him Avalon. Obviously he can't see me but that doesn't mean I can't be there when you come back to the TARDIS. Someone's got to give you a big hug, right?"

The Doctor smiled softly at her. "Oh baby sister, you are too good for this world."

Lena took that as a "yes". She took his free hand and gripped it. "You're not alone anymore, remember? Avalon said so and you'd be a fool to fight with my sister...your wife." She winked at him and laughed at his reddened face.

They crossed the hospital doors and while Lena followed quietly in that time, she couldn't help make her last question. She could already see the TARDIS poking out from the alleyway the Doctor hid her in. "What's going to happen, now? With...all of us?"

"Well, I think it's time for me to stay away for a while," the Doctor said, "You know, just be quiet and not be too out there. Amy and Rory deserve some time off. And you, I think maybe it's time you started thinking about what you want to do. Didn't you mention that you wanted to be a teacher?"

Lena playfully rolled her eyes. "Maybe. I don't know. But what about Avalon? Present Avalon, I mean…"

"Avalon, well..." he took a breath in, stopping when it got to him. Lena watched him go through the struggle of making yet another decision about Avalon. "...I need you to give her a message."

"A message? Really?" Lena would not hide her disappointment that he's choosing not to face her.

"I'm not strong enough, Lena…please, can I give you a message for her?" Lena was halfway nodding when she shook her head. "Lena—"

"You should just tell her yourself," she folded her arms, wearing a much too smug expression on her face. It was odd, really, but the Doctor followed her gaze behind him and found Avalon standing in front of the TARDIS.

"Did you really think you could get away from me again?" She was smirking proudly. She saw this coming even before the Doctor arrived at the hospital. She wasn't going to let him go like that again.

Lena took the cot from the Doctor and smiled at him. "I'll just head into the TARDIS."

Avalon's smirk faded as she saw her baby self in the cot. Her heart wrenched at the sight. River had given her up and now she was on her way to live with her uncle and aunt...

"You can go see her," the Doctor said once Lena disappeared inside the TARDIS. His voice was quiet as he was unsure of what to say to her. "River, she's...she's fighting it."

Avalon nodded silently. Her thoughts and feelings towards River were all scrambled at the moment. "I'm sorry for her," she managed to say. "And yet I'm thankful for her. They were going to throw me into that suit. I was terrified…" She could remember everything now with the time lines being scrambled and merging at one point. River had made the choice to take her place in the astronaut suit. "She saved me."

"She loves you Avalon and regardless of how you feel about her, the truth is she did not abandon you. She didn't leave you like you thought." The Doctor watched her nod with a clear struggle on her face. She was fighting off her own tears. He pulled her into a hug. She let herself be covered in his arms while she rested her head against his chest. "You've been through so much, Ava. I'm really sorry. I don't think I'll ever finish apologizing."

"I wish you did because it's not your fault. It's Kovarian's fault." She tilted her head up to meet his gaze. "I love you, Fairy Tale Man. I married you. You don't run off on me again."

"I love you too," he cupped her face, wanting nothing more than to kiss her senseless for hours but once again Time was against them. "I have to go for some time." Just as Avalon opened her mouth to argue, he added, "The Silence is still out there, Ava, and they're watching. They would know that I'm not dead if you disappeared with me."

"But I don't want you to leave me again," Avalon gripped his jacket as if he would run out right now. "What if I never see you again?"

"I will come back for you," the Doctor promised her. "You are my wife and I love you. I cannot live without you. I have no idea how I'm going to do it, to be honest, but it has to be done in order for everything to work out."

"But—"

"It's not forever," he leaned his forehead against hers. "It's a...it's just a moment longer. Just hang on a bit more and then we'll be off together."

"Do you promise?"

"I swear it. Cross my hearts." The Doctor pulled away from her to show her how crossed his fingers over his hearts. She smiled at the gesture. "You have no idea where I'm going to take you but rest assured that it will be fantastic!"

Avalon knew it would be. She was a very impatient woman but if he truly meant for them to finally be together then she would wait. It kind of ran in her family after all. Waiting. "Okay," she ultimately said, nodding lightly. She swallowed hard and looked at him. "I'll wait for you but please don't forget me."

"Forget you?" The Doctor almost laughed at the absurdity. "Do you know why I figured a way to weasel out of a fixed point in time?"

"Because you wanted to stay alive?"

"Well, yes, but for you! You, Avalon, made me want to keep living!" He snaked an arm around her waist again and lightly swayed them. "You asked me to find a way and I did my very best to do so."

"A robot," Avalon mumbled and scrunched her face. "I kissed a robot."

"Yeah, that was...interesting," the Doctor admitted, preferring not to think about it. "But here we are and now I just ask for a tiny bit more time."

"Okay," Avalon nodded. "I'll be...somewhere, waiting for you."

"Travel a bit, darling, on your own. Leadworth was never for you. It was a pit stop. Go out and see something," the Doctor smiled at her, cupping the side of her face. "Do things. And write them down."

In another time Avalon would've refused that idea, whether because she would want to take care of Lena or simply because he wouldn't be there, but right now that sounded really good to her. She'd discovered far too many secrets, remembered such terrible moments, that to go back to Leadworth like nothing happened was out of the question. She needed to do something else, she just wasn't sure what it was. Yet.

"Can I just ask for something before you go?" she asked quietly.

"Anything," the Doctor nodded.

"We got married, and even though you were inside a robot of yourself...our kiss wasn't real. You haven't technically kissed the bride yet…" She purposely trailed off for him to finish the idea. She smirked as his eyebrows raised with realization.

"Oh, you are very right…"

"Aha…"

"Can't have that…"

She shook her head. "Nope."

The Doctor straightened up with his arms to his sides. He met her gaze with affection. "Avalon Reynolds — Pond — can I—"

"You may kiss the bride," Avalon nodded, her expression softening with nothing but love for him.

The Doctor didn't need more than that. He held her head and pressed a kiss to her lips. His fingers gently brushed her skin while their kiss deepened. It would be their last kiss for a good while but never the last one, and that's what he worked so hard for to get. They parted slowly and very little. If they spoke, their lips would still meet.

"The end: the epilogue," Avalon whispered with happy tears. This time she knew that it wasn't the end. It was just the break between stories. Their first one had ended and soon they would sound another one. She couldn't wait for that one.

"I have to go," the Doctor said. He was studying her, committing her to memory for the dark moments he would surely go through later on. He couldn't be alone but he would try really hard not to fall into the darkness. He had a princess to come back for.

"See you later," Avalon said, giving him one last kiss. "And stay away from pretty people."

The Doctor laughed. "Right. Same for you. No flirting, especially with that Jack Harkness!"

Avalon laughed with him. "Sure."

"The Sapling will be around."

"I think that'll do me some good...seeing my...our son," Avalon felt different saying that now. While the Doctor was gone, the Sapling would be their companion. He was the only creature in the world that was half her, half Doctor. Their child. And now more than ever Avalon would want him around.

The Doctor eventually let her go and started for the TARDIS. It was a bittersweet moment but far better than the last time they did this. He would come back for her. Avalon waited until the TARDIS de-materialized before turning to the hospital. She had someone to visit.

~0~

"You okay, big brother?" Lena asked once the TARDIS was off. She stood beside the cot when the Doctor nodded and walked over, directly coming for the baby. "She's awake. Kinda fussy."

"Hm, I bet she is," the Doctor mused on what kind of baby Avalon would be. Melody was a sassy one even as an infant, surely Avalon would follow in the same steps.

"Was this really your cot?" Lena asked after a few minutes passed by. The Doctor had just watched the baby with no indication of what he was feeling. He was being tough again!

"Yes," he nodded. "And, once upon a time, my kids' too."

Lena gasped and met his gaze with her widened eyes. "Really? So these were your first stars—" she gently touched the hanging mobile, smiling when Avalon squealed at it, "—and your children's too? Not to mention Melody's...and now Avalon's. It's like a tradition. Wonder if it'll keep going…" She purposely smirked at the Doctor and he did his best to avoid looking at her.

"Very funny baby sister," he murmured then reached inside the cot. "Come here you," he gently picked the baby up into his arms. He couldn't get over how small Avalon was. She was so innocent. There were no thoughts inside that little head of hers except for the basic ones an infant would have. This was surely her quietest moment ever.

Or so he thought.

Lena heard the baby gurgle and suddenly the Doctor was scowling. "Are you seriously making fun of me?" He asked the baby incredulously. "You are a newborn and you are still making fun of me?"

"What's happening?" Lena stared at him like he was crazy.

"Your sister is making fun of my bowtie," he frowned down at the baby. "That is not nice."

The baby gurgled again. 'You're too loud. My Mummy wasn't loud.'

The Doctor huffed. "Would you stop that? I will have you know that I speak at a regular volume!"

'Stop yelling!'

"I am not yelling! You're being mean, Avalon!"

Lena watched the conversation progress into an actual argument and she didn't know who to laugh at first. The Doctor, who was over a 1000 years old, was arguing with a newborn. On the other hand, a newborn who couldn't even hold anything had just picked a fight with a thousand year old man. That was certainly Avalon Reynolds.

The TARDIS hummed to cut the argument short. The Doctor rolled his eyes at the box but it was enough to snap him out of the argument.

"You are definitely Avalon Reynolds," he tickled the baby's stomach. "I've got a story for you, Avalon. Would you like to hear it?"

'My Mummy sang to me. Can you sing to me?'

"Uh, I'm not that good at singing. But you will be! One day!"

Lena watched him go towards the console, deciding to stay quiet as he had his moment with the newborn. He started telling her a fairy tale. She didn't recognize it but now that she thought of it, she did remember that Avalon really liked the fairytale of the Bean, the Straw and the Coal. What really warmed Lena's heart was when he started to sing for a little bit, a very tiny bit just for Avalon. It was a nursery, and if Lena was right, it was the same nursery that River sang to Avalon earlier.

'A little fairy comes at night,

Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown'

with silver spots upon her wings,

And from the moon she flutters down.'

It soothed the newborn self as the TARDIS started taking them to New Earth where they would meet a past version of Ryland Reynolds. The story was about to begin (again).

~0~

Avalon gently opened the door of River's room and found Amy and Rory hugging River. When River saw it was her coming in, her entire face lit up but it soon faded. Avalon wouldn't know if it was because she wasn't that baby anymore or maybe she was just mad at everything that'd been said on the pyramid.

There were no words that came to Avalon in that moment. It was truly the first time she was completely speechless. She had no idea how to act around River and much less in this moment. All her life Avalon firmly believed her biological mother abandoned her. It fueled her anger for years and years. It made her cling to Emmalina even more. What she saw right now was nothing like what she'd been picturing. River was desolate, her face stained with so many tears that her face shined under the room lights. She was clutching her parents arms, truly nothing like the past versions of River that she'd seen. Those versions were always so cool and adventurous, brave beyond belief.

"I'm...I'm sorry," Avalon said. She had barely come into the room, taking caution to stay away from River. She might not even be invited but River had yet to say anything. "I had no idea that this was the way things happened."

"That I wasn't going to abandon you?" There was a slight edge to River's tone but any anger she felt disappeared when she looked up and saw her daughter. She was all grown up. Her baby was gone. "I told you that I wasn't going to do it and I didn't. I gave you up because I wanted you to live happily."

Avalon's eyes flickered to Amy and Rory, their expressions bearing sympathy for both of them. They'd witnessed their daughter giving away her own daughter but they had also witnessed the chaos that their granddaughter had to go through because of that very choice.

"I'm sorry," Avalon bit her lip. She blinked rapidly when the tears started stinging her eyes. "It's always my fault bad things happen to people who care about me. I try to stop it but I just make things worse. All this time I thought I was better off without my mother and the reality is...you would have been much better off without me. All of you."

"That is not true," River frowned. Beside her, both her parents nodded with agreement.

"C'mon," Avalon continued. "If I hadn't existed then you could've just ran from the Silence. Kovarian would've had no leverage on you. Hell, Oliver would've stayed alive. I've been ruining lives even before I was born."

"Avalon, quit talking like that," Rory scolded but it just made her move onto him and Amy.

"Rory, you would've been a rich man if you hadn't used all that money to bail me out each time I got arrested. And Amy would've had less migraines if I wasn't around."

"Get over here right now," River demanded in such a hard tone that Avalon actually winced. "Sit!" She commanded and patted a spot on the bed. "Now!"

Avalon swallowed hard before coming over as directed. She took a seat at the foot of the bed.

"Now you listen. Push all that hair behind your eyes," River actually waited for Avalon to do so. "You are very loved. You have always been. You've got a difficult personality but we all love you senseless. I can't imagine my life without you."

"It's the same for us," Amy agreed. "How could I have gotten through my 4 psychiatrists without you? Or the first date with that one?" She jerked a thumb over at Rory.

"Yeah, and you were the best football player in the field," Rory chuckled. "Definitely the toughest. You've been my Ava way before the Doctor. I can't imagine what life would be without you."

"You're our baby Pond," River smiled softly. "Our new Pond."

Rory groaned beside her. "Williams, dammit. She's a Williams!"

Avalon chuckled as he got into an argument with Amy about it. "I'm a...Pond," she said slowly, letting the name sit in her mouth for a moment. It was an odd thing to see the trio before her and knowing she was truly part of their family. She was a Pond. The Doctor must have had a lot of fun with that. She almost rolled her eyes imagining the secret jokes he had with himself while she didn't know.

"How about we talk for a few minutes?" River suggested to her, though she did it quite nervously. Avalon, however, nodded within the second. It was only fair.

"Will you be okay?" Amy asked her as she got off the bed. River assured her that she would be. Her daughter was right there now.

"We'll be right outside," Rory promised them as they left the room.

"You're going to jail, aren't you?" Avalon's tone had turned meek when she asked the question.

"Yes, I am," River answered her. She wished she could touch Avalon but she knew that her daughter wasn't there yet. It'd be a long time before she was.

"But it's not fair, you didn't do anything."

"Shh, to the world, I have."

"But you took my place," Avalon bit her lower lip. "You did it so that I wouldn't have to."

"And I would do it again," River said, shocking Avalon with the level of determination she said it with. "Make no mistake of that. I'm only sorry for the pain you went through. I'm so sorry about Oliver. He was really excited about you, he loved you."

Avalon swallowed hard when she thought about her father. She has held him during his last moments of life. "Can I...ask how you two met?"

"Well of course," River smiled. "We were students at the university. He was failing mathematics miserably and he was studying in the library. He was so loud that I had to tell him to be quiet. Imagine me, telling someone they're being too loud." Avalon briefly smiled. She could imagine that happening. "Anyways, we bickered for a while and then suddenly he was asking me out for a cup of coffee. He loved this little coffee shop around the university. He played shows in it all the time…"

Avalon's face lit up with recognition. "I know! Uncle Ryland showed me videos of that place. I want to visit it soon."

"I'm sure the owner would recognize you. Oliver must have talked about you in his shows at least a dozen times." River's smile saddened as seconds passed by. "I didn't think I would ever have a serious relationship with him. I just went out on a couple dates with him. You yourself were an unexpected moment." Even when the Doctor had told her that one day she would become Avalon's mother, she didn't think it would happen while she was still in school.

"You mean you didn't plan for me?" Avalon asked quietly, her eyes lowering to the bed sheets. "I was like...a mistake?"

"No!" River snapped. "I said you were unexpected but do you really think that I would call you a mistake? That Oliver would call you a mistake? Avalon Reynolds, for a woman who's the first of her kind - who knows more than most of us - you are quite dumb sometimes." River slowly chuckled at her reaction. She saw Oliver's pout there for a second. "You are my daughter and by far the best thing I have done in this world."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes," River answered automatically, leaving Avalon silent. "You are the best of me. I only ask that you please let me be part of your life when you're ready."

Avalon wondered what that would be like. She'd spent so much time hating the fictional cruel birth mother she made up when the truth was from it. River wasn't cruel. She didn't abandon her, she sacrificed herself and gave her up to live a better life. "I...I think I would like that," she said slowly and watched the way River's face brightened. She was very hopeful and it was quite shocking for Avalon. "I don't think I'm at a place to call you 'Mum' though…" She was afraid of what River might do or say to that but she had to get it out before River made any assumptions. She knew now that everything she thought of her birth mother wasn't true but the fact was she had grown up far away from River, always seeing Emmalina as her mother.

River took it with a silent nod of her head. It was a fair starting point for someone who grew up thinking a certain way about her. She could work with that and maybe one day Avalon would call her 'Mum' too.

[herstarburststories]

Brutal (Dean Winchester x Reader)

✾ A/N: More Dean x reader content, but angst this time! Reposting because I had to edit a few things. Gif's credits on it.  Based on the song ‘from the dining table’.

✾ Summary: Unlike her boyfriend, Dean Winchester, the reader wasn’t raised as a hunter. At first, it seems like a hard but worth it job. Unfortunately, you didn't have in mind how brutal all of it could get.

✾ Words: 3k.

"YOU ARE NOT YOURSELF ANYMORE, DEAN!"

The discussion over a delicate subject at the dining table was blossoming into something bigger. (Y/N) was on her feet, shouting at her boyfriend with a shaking voice; a manner that was very uncommon. You were used to Dean being stubborn, and you were not behind him in this aspect which caused a few disagreements here and there. That certain argument, though, was definitive in every meaning of the word.

"I HAVE ALWAYS MADE IT FUCKING CLEAR WHAT THIS LIFE WAS, (Y/N)!" Dean snapped back, anger dripping from his words like venom. He was hurt. How could you say that he was becoming a cold-hearted person? You, of all people. "IF I DON'T KILL IT, IT KILLS ME! THIS ISN'T AN APPLE PIE LIFE, AND YOU KNEW IT WHEN YOU DECIDED TO STAY HERE!"

"I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT VAMPIRES OR POLTERGEISTS OR WENDIGOS, DEAN! FUCK!" Your usual efficiency with words was starting to tangle with desperation. Dean didn't even see the problem, for God's shake. How could you keep this up? "I'M TALKING ABOUT THE PEOPLE! I SAW YOU KILL FIVE POSSESSED PEOPLE TODAY!"

"DEMONS!" He groaned and slapped the table. You jumped in surprise, making him regret getting out of control and coaxing a softer, calmer tone from his mouth. "I killed demons, not people."

"The demons were possessing them, and you killed them off without any regret. You didn't even take a minute to consider other options."

"What other options?" he questioned, obviously upset. What the hell were you doing? Becoming the devil's advocate all of sudden?

"Using the demon-killing knife to stab a non-vital part of their bodies? Maybe an exorcism?"

"None of those options would end the problem permanently. Do you have any idea how many sons of a bitch came back from hell to get Sam and me? It's them or us, (Y/N). And I will always choose us." Dean was aware that you weren't raised in this life like him and Sam, but this conversation was becoming frustrating and confusing. You were training to be like them. You went to hunts with them. You... You supported him. At least, you did last time he checked. "The human is long gone when they get possessed. Dying is the best thing that could happen to them after that."

You were supposed to be an easy case that turned out to be more complicated than previously expected, what meant both of them staying a little longer in the city, you catching feelings for Dean and vice-versa. After all you had seen, you knew that normal life was a long lost memory that you didn't wish to visit, leave alone live in. Hauntings, traveling across the country, having no banal responsibilities-- that seemed like the kind of dangerous fun you had been looking for your whole life. Then, you came with them. Killing things had never bothered you-- they weren't actually alive, for starts. Until you saw how cold Dean looked when he killed off possessed people-- the humans that were still in there somehow. And he kept doing it as if it were the only option. Of course, this job and violence walked side by side, but not unnecessary lethal choices. Dean certainly shared his portion of brutality, which wasn't tiny, but you would never picture your boyfriend as uncaring. Not until you watched five bodies piled up together, burning. What about the chance that those people should have gotten?

"Are you even listening to yourself, Dean? What if Sam had thought like that when you became a demon!?" Apprehensive, you tried to make him understand what was wrong.

Dean clenched his jaw before his answer came out, "Those are two different things, (Y/N). You know that."

"I..." You flinched, taking a deep breath and letting it out. You shut your eyes before opening them with a determinate glare, locking your gaze with his green one. "I can't. I said I would stand by you through anything, but I can't let this slide. Not like this."

"Because I killed a few demons?" The older Winchester grinned wryly. He was furious, scared by the possibility of you leaving him, and injured by your words. What else could a wounded animal do besides attacking? "I survived, (Y/N). I've killed many others, and I'm not fucking sorry for it. They had it coming. You knew that was my life, and you chose it. What are you going to do now? Play the coward? It's a dirty, fucked up job, but someone has to do it, and you knew that."

Offering a sad smile, you walked towards him and lifted your hand to claim his cheek only for him to pull away from you. Your heart ached, but you needed to do that. Stick to your morals and beliefs.

"I love you." And you did, you truly did. Unfortunately, blood was as normal as water in his mouth, and you couldn't help but remain nauseous after what you tasted. "But there is a better way. Maybe not perfect, but another decision. And if you can't see that, if you can't see why I find it wrong to just rush around with the knife in every situation--" Your voice almost broke. "Goodbye, Dean."

You turned around, passing away from the man you loved before another speech stopped you.

"I bet you regret leaving your home to run away with me now."

You didn't take two seconds to reply, and you desired that he could understand how hard it was for you too. "I would never regret you."

No ray of sunshine licked Dean's face to wake him up. Fortunately for the Winchesters' disorganized sleeping routine, the bunker prevented the sun from invading the window-- a perk of living almost under the land in a bunker.

Instead of a normal reason to emerge from his rest, Dean's eyes fluttered open from an annoying migraine. Perhaps he went a little too hard on the alcohol yesterday, but that was the last thing that mattered. Besides, even if it was an abnormal sensation, he wouldn't trade it for sake of 'drinking like a normal human being', as (Y/N) had teased him so many times before.

(Y/N).

It took two seconds after recovering consciousness to think about you.

“Where are you?” he said in a whisper, playing with himself to the silent walls. Dean laughed with his own brand of self-deprecation-- a learned cruelty to dilute the tug of his emotions before the eldest Winchester had to get up. He knew exactly where you resided and why you were there. He decided against feeding his masochism for once, not glancing at your side of the bed.

To face the light fixtures above him only made his current situation more depressing, just like the hints of paint that (Y/N) had once thrown there. Dean Winchester knew pain like no other; hell, purgatory, an emptied childhood, watching his mother seal a deal with a demon, living with the fact his father had gone to hell to save him, being right in front of Sammy when he died, all the bloody deaths he’d lived through again and again-- the list would go on. He could probably drown in an ocean of his deceased loved ones’ blood and swim there for hours until he reached its edge.

Most of the time, the life of a hunter was synonymous with tragedy.

Therefore, Dean was very experienced when it came to suffering. He even shared a last name with a rifle, for God’s sake. Destruction was stained in his bones. This time, it was a different kind of torment.

His heart had been broken before, sure. He wasn’t in his early twenties, neither was he a saint. Dean was aware that a break in relationships could be devastating.

But again, this time, it was different. (Y/N) had not only broke his heart. You ripped it out and threw it in the trash as you walked out the door without looking back. His trust was in your pockets, and the beliefs clinging to the divine sensation of your touch that left with you.

Dean Winchester was hopeless. Deciding not to mourn for a bit, he closed his eyes from the melancholy. It wasn't a hard job to fall asleep once more. People in his job were always heavy-eyed.

Forty minutes passed by the clock until the Winchester roused again. This moment felt missing without you snuggling up to him or kissing his neck between foolish giggles or even pushing him out of bed when you felt like playing the prankster.

There was no valid reason to remain where he was, glaring at a stupid ceiling that held nothing but an old light you installed together and memories. The yellow and blue paints still held firm where you’d spattered them, jumping in the bed together with your hands drenched in the colors from a gouache paint container just because you’d found the tins somewhere in the bunker. You and Dean became a tangled mess of greens, dirty with paint and kissing. How many sexual encounters happened here, he thought, glaring at this ceiling that looked like three-year-old Sammy’s art project.

The green-eyed man never thought he would feel nostalgic about a stupid ceiling. He had to get out of that room.

Finally raising from the mattress, Dean yawned as he padded towards the kitchen. He didn't mind checking what time it was, knowing he needed an alcoholic getaway. The Winchester sat down, sharing a bottle of Whiskey with his shadow. How distracting it was to make his throat burn when an unpleasant thought attempted to take control of his head.

If he had dared to look through the room, Dean would have noticed the clock's arrow pointing at 10:50 am.

By noon he was already drunk, which took a lot of effort since his tolerance to drinks was a bar high set. Dean groaned, displeased. The buzzy feeling of befuddlement hitting him certainly helped, but he could still affirm that he had never felt less cool. His body was starving for something that wasn't there anymore. Dean's feelings were all over the place, and he didn't have the energy to pick them up at this point.

"I can't believe you are drinking already." Sam sighed, making himself known by Dean in the kitchen. In response, all he got was his brother holding the glass up and drinking all of its bronze liquid. "It's barely noon, Dean. You-- Wait. Are you drunk?"

"Don't start, Sam." He groaned, holding his own cheeks with fingers as his hands slid down to his chin. The gesture was a habit of Dean's when he was fed up with something.

The younger one offered him an indignant glare, which was soon replaced by empathy and sorrow as he watched Dean. His brother was broken. (Y/N) running away from them had really taken him down. Part of Sam was hurt as well-- after all, you were his friend and confidant. But, in all ruthless honesty, he couldn't speak out and point fingers at you on that. Not about the whole situation, at all.

Yet, if Sam was feeling abandoned by his friend, he could only imagine what Dean would be experiencing. You had been a hint of happiness in the middle of misery and combat for Dean. It had been so long since Sammy saw his brother like that, so very long. Suddenly, it disappeared like smoke. And the worst part was that he understood your side. Deep down, the long-haired man knew Dean did, too.

Trying to knock sense back into his brother, or at least a bit of normality, Sam spoke, "You can go out and buy some whiskey. Your bottle was the last one."

"Yeah, right." His voice was impassive, almost serious for such casual conversation. He got up, going to the table to grab Baby's keys.

"Hey, Dean..." Dean turned around to face his brother. Sam’s expression was cautious, voice soft when he continued: "If you want to talk about it, I'm here. It could help."

"I'm pretty sure you heard the screaming yesterday, Sam," Dean replied dryly, an unsettlingly wry smile surfacing. His walls were up. It was an old defense mechanism. "There is nothing to talk about. She left. The sooner we can accept it, the sooner we can move on."

"Move on? You want to move on?" he questioned suspiciously, eyebrows arching to match his inquiry.

Dean didn't answer. He only picked up the keys.

"Dean--"

"Yeah, I think we are out of eggs, too," Dean interrupted. He didn't need to talk about it. Not now. "Whiskey and eggs, got it."

Any other remarks from Sam were ignored as he walked through the door, trotting in direction of his beloved Impala. An old song on one of his cassettes was the soundtrack to his five-minute ride to the nearest store.

Dean went searching for eggs and whiskey, adding a lemon pie that smelled better than himself-- not that it was difficult considering he hadn’t showered since yesterday. The store’s cashier swiped his credit card and offered a polite farewell that was replied with a nod. Everything seemed so normal in the most boring ways.

In the parking lot, a familiar face appeared for the first time in a year. It was Thomas-- a hunter that Dean, you, and Sam had come across during a job in New Mexico.

"Winchester!" The blue-eyed man smiled, making the scar near his lips more evident. Being thrown out of a window left marks sometimes. "It's been too long, dude."

"Cavill." His lips curved into a small smile as he greeted his friend. Laying his green eyes on him, Dean couldn't avoid noticing a familiar shirt. Fuck, he must be hallucinating or thinking too hard about foolish subjects. "Where have you been?"

"Burning bones, decapitating vamps. Same old, same old." Thomas waved his hand, banalizing the supernatural routine as if it were nothing but another Sunday. For them, this was true. "I saw (Y/N) yesterday. She seemed fine. Separate hunts to take different cases?"

His blood burned through an emotional fever in realization. It felt like the boil was intense enough to melt his bones if he remained in front of the other men for too long. Thomas had never been subtle about finding you attractive, and neither was his constant flirting when your cases collided. It didn't help that you and Dean weren't together back then, even though the tension was obvious for anyone. The Winchester gripped his grocery plastic bag harder, offering him a sarcastic smirk.

"Something like that." He reached the car door and pulled out his keys. The familiar red flannel, your meeting with him-- it was so obvious it was basically written all over his face, and sadly, Dean could read it well. Fuck, he wanted to drop his purchases and punch that smile off Thomas’ face. That man probably had more of what was once his. “Gotta go. See you around.”

Sliding in the car to leave this conversation before his treacherous mind could reach more detestable conclusions, Cavill answered, "If you need help, give me a call.''

Dean mumbled something but didn't care enough to give him anything beyond a nod while the Impala finally drove away from Thomas.

At that moment, he wished a bit harder that Ellen was still alive or that another bar like hers existed. The hunters’ bar was full of people who understood that death was a part of the job. Somewhere he could swallow barrels of alcohol, play darts and tell bloody stories about his world-- about the quintessential things he did to get despair out of his system to the point that he felt comfortable on his own skin again.

So, that was it? You didn't just leave him and Sam, but you also accused him with all certainty you had of being a cold killer, and then you slept with the first man who showed up? Who was also a fucking hunter? Why the fuck didn't you tell him how you felt sooner? He wasn't an angel-- he would be even more of an arrogant asshole than he already was if that was the case, but you knew it all along. He didn't deserve anything good in his life. He should've seen it coming.

Dean pursed his lips, deciding for another ride to a normal bar. Home and all the beautiful, tragic ghosts inside could haunt him later.

It didn't take him long to park near an establishment. For once, he noticed the strong grip he held on the steering wheel, knuckles strained whiter than usual. He let out a tired sigh, glaring at the entrance of the place before grabbing his phone.

No calls from you. No text messages from you. Just the feeling of being a thirteen-year-old boy again, just like when he was waiting for Mary to send him a sign that she was all right.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Dean put it back in his pocket and made his way to the bar. No 'welcome' board light was shining yet, and he doubts anyone but he and the owner would be there. Once he got in, two guys were sitting in a table far away, and a girl was entering the bathroom. The bartender stood behind the bar, watching some game on the small television the place provided.

"Whiskey. No ice." His words came out harsher than he expected. The guy didn't seem to notice or care, simply nodding his head and turning around go get his client's order. One more time, Dean took his phone and stared at it. There was nothing but a text from Sammy that he quickly replied to, frowning in disappointment. It was rare for you to be the first one to break after a fight, but that was more than a stupid argument. You had left. You had fucking left. And he was the only one to blame.

Such a miserable routine kept its course. Dean would drink, check his phone, and hurt himself with his own thoughts. The night came with lurking shadows, and he couldn't care less. It seemed like the ghosts had replaced the bunker for his company. He didn't want to believe you would come back because hoping and being destroyed again was too much to bear with right now. Dean couldn't even breathe properly at the thought that he would never, ever see touch you, tease you, or be with you again. You had him wrapped around your finger since the very first day until you cut your hand off and left him. You left. How could you have left? But then, how could you had stayed if you had it all in your mind before?

Someone sat beside him. Still, it didn't catch the Winchester's attention until he heard her voice. For a flash of a second, he thought it was you. Dean looked up instantly, only to find himself incredulous.

The woman in front of him looked so much like you. She could easily be mistaken for your sister. Hair, eyes, voice. Everything but the lips were so similar. The unknown girl kept her gaze on Dean despite his strange reaction to her. Repeating her former words, she asked, "What are you drinking? Seems good."

Yeah, she wasn't (Y/N). You could tell what he was drinking from miles away, just because you knew exactly what he enjoyed. In addition, you’d seen his preferences so much that you’d memorized it all without even trying.

She looked like you, though. A lot. The earlier jealousy mixed with a dangerous quantity of alcohol and anguish made his decision. Move on, just like he told Sam. You didn't call him. You weren't coming back. That was your choice. He had to shut up the little hopes in his mind.

Putting up his best sultry smirk, Dean pushed the glass on the table towards her as he answered: "You tell me."

Two hours later, he was tilting his head to the side, watching the woman in his sheets peacefully taking a nap after a long run. Her hand covered most of her face, pillow carpeted with her messy hair.

"Wake up, (Y--)" Dean restrained himself from finishing that sentence. He almost said your name. It was hard enough to keep the woman's name, which he had forgotten by now, on his tongue during sex-- he wasn't going to give in at the end of it. Clearing his throat, the hunter started waking her up again. He needed to go.

In any other point of his life, he would've considered that night a success. A hot girl was sleeping beside him after he had a great amount of old whiskey. Sammy sent a text about a new case, and he had pie waiting for him in the car. At any other moment, that would be enough to put him in a good mood all day. In any other age, that would be considered a good day. No one died, he had sex and food and was about to hunt a thing and blow whatever it was up.

But you hadn't called.

It was probably a good thing in a messed up way. It was tranquil. There was no arguing, no fighting, no hurting from either side. That kind of hurt was quite similar to being comfortable, in a tremendously distorted way that he didn't wish to feel, like not putting medicine on the wound and just allowing it to heal by itself-- yet, occasionally scratching it. The idea of a comfortable silence was so overrated. Dean would rather be screamed at by (Y/N) by now than whatever this option was.

The woman woke up and left a note with her phone as she abandoned the room. Crumbling the paper, he threw it away and touched his face. A deep breath was taken.

He had work to do.

Maybe one day you'll call me

and tell me that you’re sorry too 

But you never do