#totally not so i can gush about your ocs and take bits and pieces and add them to my tav

[sharsbitch]

can everyone reblog this with their Tavs!

i wanna know what everyone’s race / class / origin / alignment choices

just give me everything! i wanna hear about the niche details you have planned out for release

[qapsiel]

Positivity anon here! Could I ask you to shout out to your five fave blogs? Just to make someone smile today and let them know you love their blog! Maybe even say a little about why!

I'm more than happy to spread positivity and love, and I'll totally ignore the audacity to only give me 5 blogs and just do more hehe

I'm gonna start with @ruinedmyself because Kas was one of the first people to talk to me when I ventured into the spn fandom, and they've done nothing but make me feel incredibly welcomed <3 I love our silly little chats and also the pain we inflict on each other regularly. We really do share one (1) braincell, and I wouldn't want it any other way. You've got such a fantastic grip on Sam, on his badass-ery but also his softer and goofier side, and I scream excitedly whenever I see I got a reply from you!

No Sam without Dean, obviously, so I gotta yell about @bloodsalted a bit. Dixon is an extremely friendly person, and I'm still glad I managed to sweet-talk force you into joining me in hell. Or heaven, I suppose, is the better word, because our interactions are truly GREAT. Whether it's sexy times or angsty shit, every reply is magnificent and makes me giggle. You write Dean in all facets that make his character so lovable: his fears and passions and his silly times and also his anger. I love him to pieces!

Who doesn't love the king of hell? Cas, probably, but I adore every interaction with @murderdeals because it enables me to use all the pissed-off Cas icons. When you write Crowley, I can hear Mark yell into my ear. And honestly, I would have never guessed that Cas and Cain could become such good buddies, and yet they somehow ended up being the bestest bee bros, and that's largely due to your fantastic writing and your excellent grip on a character that can easily be branded the villain without second-guessing.

@singersalvaged should always be included in my rant about lovable people because she's just so chill to talk to! A truly great person who has an amazing view of Bobby Singer and writes him in a way that makes me believe the guy is standing behind me muttering idjit whenever I read a reply. And Allie! Let me gush about Allie, who's Cas' weed friend and brothel companion, and every single interaction just makes me howl with laughter. They're absolutely unhinged and dumb, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

While Crowley makes Cas want to eat glass, @eyeless-smiles makes him want to tear his own ears off because Corinth is such a fucking asshole (affectionate), a True Nightmare, and I love seeing him annoy Cas in every single paragraph. It's just hilarious, and they never hold their muse back, which is refreshing these days!

Cas loves to steal kids (just look at Jack), so it didn't take long for him to steal @innerwar 's Homelander when he was still a child with Vought. And honestly, I just adore this verse and you, friend? It's so funny and yet also sad, and I'm just so unbelievably happy that Homie gets a better life with this and that Cas gets to be a Dad again, and your writing is just SO FANTASTIC and catches Homelander's young voice brilliantly. 

I gotta yell about @nightmdic really loudly for a second because she is a FREAKING MAGNIFICENT OC and both Cas and I love her to pieces. She's kind and nice and helps Cas through his forced humanity without finding him (too) weird, and Paige just casually managed to write one of my favorite OCs here on Tumblr with her eye for detail and well-chosen words 

And last but not least, a big shoutout to @bleakfated who writes a lot of different spn muses (among others) and yet manages to hit that nail (= the voice of every single muse) square on the head every time! I hear Balthazar's funny-ironic voice when I write with him, I see Jody being Mom when I interact with her, I get the British Mick Vibes when it's his time to shine. I'm in awe of how someone manages to juggle so many muses and give everyone their own little voice. Kudos!

[fireflyinsummer]

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

> warnings: hints of smut (heavy make out), a scene of harassment (nothing explicit), violence. possible heresy. forgive me. a third party’s unrequited feelings for OC. don’t know if i did this right, it’s 3 am right now.

> summary: When it comes to the both of you, a lifetime is not enough. And when it comes to you, there’s really no lines he wouldn’t be willing to cross. Even on the brink of a war that could destroy the world as we know it, you’re everything.

  “ (...) ‘Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?’ he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

   ‘I’ve never had to,’ you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you.”

a/n: my love for Paradise Lost gave birth to this. i really like this one :) gonna be posting the second (and last) part soon! no need to say that PL was just an inspiration, this isn’t exactly based on the poem. 

                                               “(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.”

     The sudden thud on the wooden surface of the table made you jolt and close the book, heart rate increasing considerably.

  “Y/N.” His voice was deep, dragging your name through his teeth to evince his annoyance. The bustling café was already at its peak hours and you didn’t even notice the time as it passed you by.

  “Yes, Taehyung?” You ogled your grumpy friend, his noisy arrival being due to the study material he tossed in front of you.

  “You said you’d help me with English lit. I was waiting for you at the library for about an hour and your phone is off.” As you remembered why you were even in the café in the first place, you threw him a guilty look. He pouted. “Hey, what does that Milton guy have that I don’t? And the fancy words don’t count.” You giggled.

  “John Milton has nothing on you, Tae. He’d probably need my help to get through this semester as well.” The joke seemed to almost let you in his good graces again, but you knew he still needed the bribery. “I’ll buy you your favorite if you forgive me.” You could tell he was fighting back a smile upon hearing your offer, his mood suddenly uplifted.

  “Okay. But don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. Wait here.” You went to the balcony to pay the check and get his frappuccino to go. Taehyung was a sweet guy who liked sweet things, and that also applied to his coffee. His sweet tooth earned him a nickname from you – Marzipan. Waiting for the bartender to finish your order, you looked over where your best friend was digging through your copy of Paradise Lost without much enthusiasm.

   You had moved in next door to his house about fifteen years ago, and you two instantly initiated a solid friendship. As much as you could say about three-year-olds. Despite him being one of your favorite people in the whole world, the both of you were into totally different things. He went to parties, you enjoyed some lone quality time. He played all sorts of sports, you preferred to stick to your writing and, sometimes, the piano. You were still working on the latter. But even though you seemed to be totally opposites, he still got you like no one else could. He was the person you told all your secrets to, not that you had that many anyway, and you liked to think – no, you were sure of it – he felt the same way about you.

  “Here’s your overly-sweet drink, Marzipan. I don’t even know if you can still call it coffee,” you scowled.

  “Don’t diss my frappuccino, it’s the sole reason of my forgiveness.”

  “Yeah, right. So, you wanna get going? I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts on that book already.”

  “It was very average so far, if I do say so myself. I don’t know why you like it so much,” he teased you.

  “Well, that’s what the private lessons are for. So I can teach you good taste.” You pushed the door open and immediately shivered as you felt a cold gush of air. It was snowing.

  “Here, take my coat. Why don’t you ever wear decent clothes in the winter? I swear to God, I don’t know how you never caught something serious, like pneumonia or whatever,” he scolded.

  “You don’t have to. We’re near home anyway,” you tried to reassure him, but he was, as usual, outwardly ignoring it. “Really, Tae, it’s no big deal. Let’s go.” He was ready to fight you on this one, but you were already walking away. He took a few hurried steps to catch up.

  After a ten-minute walk, daylight was almost completely gone, lit lampposts following its wake. You both hit the front door rug with your feet several times before getting inside, your mom was a bit freaky when it came to cleaning.

  “Mom, Tae’s here!” You shouted from the living room, guessing she was in the kitchen. “We’re going upstairs for a bit! School work!”

  “Okay, honey! Tell him that dinner will be ready soon!” She responded.

  “I love you, Ms. D’Angelis!” He shot back. Yes, you had an italian background. When she heard his voice, she made sure to come out and greet him.

  “Love you, too, honey”, she pecked his forehead and he beamed. They liked each other way too much for their own good. “And you,” she pointed in your direction, “give mamma a kiss.”

  You sighed before attending to her request. It was in your best interest not to fight it. “Okay, enough of this. We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”

  “Have fun, kids.” You sure would. Taehyung might beg to differ.

  The rest of the night was somewhat peaceful. You had helped Taehyung as much as you could before your mother called you out to eat, claiming that you shouldn’t starve the boy and then make him eat a cold meal. He couldn’t agree fast enough. For the most part, that was your life. Uncomplicated and comfortable, which was plenty for an eighteen year old. When you went to bed after practicing the piano for a little while, you were completely unaware of the pair of pitch black eyes that observed you through the window. But he was fully aware of you.

  ||\\

                                                                    [Fear of the Water, by SYML]

  You knew it was a dream. From the moment your brain processed the heavenly sight that unrevealed before your eyes, you knew. It was breaking dawn, the soft orange light kissing the ocean like a long lost lover. You were at the end of a cliff, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be afraid. You looked down at the waves that broke into the rocks almost violently, the salty breeze somewhat comforting. You loved the sea.

  Taking a few deep breaths, you barely noticed the crack. The sound came from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t want to look away from the view, neither did you want to wake up. When you heard it again, you recognized footsteps. You turned around lazily, curious as to whom it would be the visitor of your reverie. When you fixed your eyes on him, though, you stopped breathing for a moment and your heart surely skipped a beat. He was a stranger in a number of ways, for he was seemed truly unworldly. Maybe ethereal was the word you were looking for. His violet eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe. Beautiful. His hair was dark as it fell like a silky curtain on his forehead. Not a single flaw on his skin or his body, but none of that was as breathtaking as what lied on his back. Great, large white wings, so beautifully outstretched that you felt unworthy of looking at them.

  You opened your mouth a few times, but nothing would come out. Probably for the best, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of what was probably your mind’s greatest creation. How you could come up with him was beyond you. You wanted to ask his name before it all ended and you had to go back to real life, back to average. You wanted to touch his face, his wings, see for yourself if they felt as they looked. You wished you never woke up. As he took a step closer, you took your own back, startled at the sudden movement. Before you realized your mistake, it was too late. You had lost your balance. You knew it would be over soon. Taking one last look at the stranger, you saw as he stretched one arm to reach you, but to no avail. Too soon, the wind was ricocheting your skin and you were falling.

  You woke up with a loud gasp as you searched for air, finding it oddly rarefied. When you registered the annoyingly high pitch of your alarm, you whined. Real life was the last thing you wanted to face right now, but if you told your mother that you’d stay in bed daydreaming about a figment of your imagination, she would personally retrieve you from the bed and toss you into the shower. Made sense.

  Getting ready as quickly as you could manage, you felt excited for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the afterglow of the dream, but now you were eager to get out of the house, as if you wanted to find him. Which was insane, because you knew he did not exist. Come to think about him now, it was getting harder by the minute to remember his face. You panicked.

  Running towards your desk and grabbing a pencil and your notebook, you tried to recreate him on paper, which was a lost battle from the start. Even if you were some doodling genius – you were definitely not – you would never be able to do him justice. You doubted anyone who had ever stepped on this planet, past or present, ever would. It was not the kind of beauty that could be explained or demonstrated, but rather felt. He wasn’t just inhumanely pretty, wings and all. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It may sound cheesy and totally deranged, but you felt whole in those few shared moments, like you knew him your entire life. Your mind didn’t recognize him, but your body did.

  Groaning at the piece of paper and throwing the pencil at your baby-blue wall in annoyance, you gave up. It was pointless, his features were already escaping your mind. You didn’t know why you were so hung up on a dream, honestly. Seeing that you were a little riled up, you decided to let it go and just finish getting ready for class. You could see through the window that Taehyung was already waiting for you.  

    ||\\

 “So, how did it go?”

  He pouted before answering. “It went alright.” Lies, he was a big fat liar.

  “C’mon, Marzipan, be honest with me for a second.”

  The nickname finally broke him down. “Fine, I hated it. I remember you telling me about every important detail of the subject yesterday, but I couldn’t put it on paper. Plus, why the fuck does he have to elaborate the questions so much? Most of the time I didn’t even understand what was being asked. Literature sucks,” he whined indignantly. You could tell it was taking a toll on him.

  “Don’t worry too much about it, okay? I will help you. We’ll both graduate this year, yeah?” you reached his hand on a reassuring squeeze.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “Then sure. But you have to take me seriously, Y/N,” he warned you. “No more losing track of time in coffee shops.”

  “Hey, I bought you a frappuccino, that incident should be six feet under by now,” you accused and he mumbled a grumpy response.

  The both of you spent half of the morning taking the lit test. You thought you did fine, though the questions really were a little bit tricky. Walking side by side with Taehyung, you didn’t notice him at first. But once you realized there were no seats available right next to each other, your eyes eventually landed on his.

  “We can’t sit together through this class, we’re too late,” Tae grumbled, trying to get your attention back to himself, but to no avail. “Y/N? Hey!” He flicked your forehead and you yelped.

  “Did you just… flick me?” you seethed.

  “I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t lusting over the new guy. Who is he, by the way?” If you acknowledged the hint of jealously in his tone, you didn’t show it.

  “I was not lusting over anybody,” you huffed.

  “If you say so.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Grumpy. Is it because I caught you?” You just snarled and took a seat at the front row, while he chuckled and chose the one in the back.

  To be honest, you were lusting a little. Those eyes seemed oddly familiar, though you couldn’t quite put a finger on why. The rest of the day passed by smoothly; you were able to sit with Taehyung for the remaining classes you had together and even helped him a bit with some homework. After a while, your new classmate was nowhere near your mind, despite that funny feeling you got every time you looked at him. Maybe it was because he was stunningly handsome. Who knows? You never cared much about those things, but you were only human.

  On your way home with Taehyung, you felt eyes burning on your back. You turned around and found him staring, expression unfathomable. He wore a black lather jacket, jeans and a black shirt, his dark hair beautifully disheveled. He gave you a wanton grin and you scoffed. Well, you knew his type, and it unnerved you to death.

  Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

  He cut off the eye contact abruptly, heading towards a grey motorcycle. No shit, huh? You almost laughed at the predictability. You weren’t exactly into bikes, but that looked expensive. And it suited him perfectly.

  “Holy-… do you see that? That’s a Triumph fucking Rocket,” Taehyung gasped, shaking your elbow lightly. “A 2500cc engine capacity Triumph Rocket. Man, his parents must be loaded. That’s not a high schooler’s bike,” he said, almost dreamy. Yeah, you saw that coming from a mile away.

  “You talking about the new guy?” You asked nonchalantly, turning your head as you resumed walking.  

  “Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t ogling just now,” he accused.

  “You’re obsessed with our new-found bad boy. Maybe you should date him, Tae,” a snicker left your lips at his appalled expression.

  “Shut up,” he pushed your shoulder. “I’m just curious.”

  “As in bi-curious?”

  “Okay, that’s it, I’m leaving you behind,” he grumbled as he fastened his pace. You chuckled, trying to catch up with his long legs.

  When you arrived home, you noticed an attempt of a drawing on top of your bed. It looked like a poorly doodled angel. First things first: though it definitely looked like something made by your hands, you didn’t have any recollection of it, let alone of leaving it on display like that. You looked around, searching for something, but nothing else seemed out of place. Trying to shrug the uneasiness off, you picked some clothes off the wardrobe and went for a warm bath.

    ||\\

  It was a Saturday afternoon, so you planned to do the usual: hit the library and grab some coffee on your way home. Taehyung had promised to watch a movie with you this weekend, but a surprise party to one of his friends came up. He’d invited you to tag along, more out of habit than anything else. Your answer was always the same when he asked you to spend time with his peers; you weren’t even remotely fond of them. They had maybe one functioning braincell and a whole lot of conceit. Not your crowd at all.

  “Mom, I’m leaving. Do you need me to get you anything?” You said, already on your way to the front door.

  She was sprawled on the couch, gazing attentively at the TV.  “No, honey, thank you. Are you going out with Tae?”

  “Nope, something came up, we rescheduled. I won’t be long.”

  “Okay, then. Be careful!”

  “Will do!”, you shouted from the outside.

  It was closing time when the sweet old lady had to gently kick you out. You weren’t surprised when you found out your phone was dead; you probably had a billion calls from your mother and, if she was desperate enough, maybe even Taehyung. Letting out a sigh, you grabbed your stuff quickly and waved goodbye to the librarian as you made your way out the door, grumbling to yourself about not being able to pick up some coffee now.

  The air was hazy and cold, you couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, and the streets were oddly empty. You tightened your coat around your body and quickened your pace, not willing to spend more time outside than you needed to. Seeing that all the stores were closed, you realized that Martha (the librarian) probably let you outstay your welcome a little bit. You cursed at the freezing night and your cheap coat. Taehyung was right, you should buy warmer clothes.

  Lost in thoughts, you were stupid enough to miss the drunken noises coming from the end of the street. There was a group of three men coming your way and they all seemed to have ingested an unhealthy amount of booze, laughing loudly and pushing each other playfully. You felt cold sweat fall down your spine but just tried to ignore it, hoping that you’d be able to pass them by without being noticed.

  “Y/N?” His voice was dragged, and he was tumbling around the words. It was only then you realized they were from your school, the boy in the middle being Jimmy, Taehyung’s drink buddy.

  “Hi”, you tried to stay as far away as possible, but the one with the fashionably boring rectangular glasses didn’t let you, hooking his arm around your neck. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.

  “C’monnn-“ he hiccupped, “don’t you wanna par-tay with-“ another one, “-us?”

  You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

  “Not really. I have to go,” you almost managed to untangle his disgusting arm from you, but he kept it in place, holding you tighter. “Let go of me.”

  You were annoyed. And scared to death, to be honest. These boys didn’t exactly live by a moral code, and the four of you were alone in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust them.

  “Aww, don’t be shy, princess. You’re always so… boring. Makes me curious about what you’ve got going on under all… that.” The last one, Ian, made his way towards you, snickering menacingly. He wasn’t as drunk as the other two, and if you could give a hunch, you’d say he knew exactly was he was doing. That scared you even more. Feeling the brick-wall hit your back, you realized you were cornered, a curse escaping your dry lips.

  “Look, I really have to g-“ he cut you off by pressing his body into yours, making you lose your breath for all the wrong reasons. “What the fuck, man?! Let go of me!” You were visibly growing desperate as you tried to punch his face and his chest, but that only earned you a chuckle from him as he held both your wrists with one hand.

  “Feisty. I like it.” You almost puked right then and there, the bile stuck in your throat making you scowl. He let his filthy fingers slide down your sides, until he could grope your ass.

  Your stomach sank, heart drumming against your ribcage as you held back a whimper.

Okay, think.

  Taehyung had taught you the basics about self defense a thousand moons ago. And yet, you realize that it was nothing like the real thing. You balled your clammy fingers tightly, knuckles white as you scanned every corner of your brain to try and find a way out.

  “Tae will kill you if you touch me,” your voice trembled. You couldn’t help it.

  He laughed whole-heartedly. As if the mere thought was actually funny to him.

  “He wouldn’t dare, sweetheart. Besides, I think he actually wouldn’t mind sharing his bitch with us for the night,” he stated. “He’s not using it anyways,” he punctuated with a roll of his hips and, this time, as you felt the pathetic bulge inside his pants, you couldn’t hold back a tiny sob. Because fuck, this was it. There was no way you could take down three grown men on your own.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The voice was low and steady. It made your skin crawl. You snapped your head and looked at the dark haired man standing behind the boys. Ian lazily turned around, still keeping your wrists wrapped tight in his hand.

  “None of your business, newbie. Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience.”

  When he chuckled, it was different from Ian’s. It was darker, rougher, and concealed a vicious ferocity that you knew was there. You knew because, as he disregarded your aggressor and looked you in the eyes, you almost feared for them.

  “Ian, dude, let it go.” Jimmy instantly sobered up and tried to avoid any confrontation. To think he spent time with your best friend but would let Ian harass you without saying a word was disgusting. “Come on, your old man will kill you if you get in trouble again.” So that was his main concern. Still looking out for his shitty, abusive friend. Men’s sorority really is misogyny.

  “You should listen to your friend. Believe me, you won’t survive me when I get my hands on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. You felt the sincerity in your bones. And so did Ian and his stupid cavalry. “Leave.”

  Ian sighed, but relented. You felt a hot wave of relief as he disconnected his body from yours, leaning on the wall for balance as your legs wabbled.

  “You better watch out,” he spits.

  “Y/N, I... I’m really sorry,” Jimmy said as he scooped his friends and dragged them away from you. “You too, Min. He’s just drunk. We would’ve stopped him if it got too far.”

  He’s lying. You can tell.

  “Get the fuck out of my sight,” he growls, his composure faltering for a minute. As they stray out of view, he turns his gaze to you.

  “Care to tell me what the hell are you doing walking alone in the middle of the night?”

  He’s angry.

  You scoffed, adjusting your coat around your shoulders and straightening your back.

  “Thank you for the help, but I’m too old for a babysitter,” you say. “Besides, I don’t even know you.”

  He looks at you and, as if trying to regain some sense and control a fit of rage, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling a long puff of air.

  “Alright. My name is Yoongi,” he takes you by surprise as he snatches your wrist in an iron grip, “And I'm fucking walking you home.”

  As he drags you across the street, you want to yell at him. You want to tell him to fuck off, you preppy bastard. But you don’t.

  Because the truth is, you’re so fucking grateful. God knows what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for him. As he calms down, he drops your hand and slows his pace, allowing you to catch up without having to make an effort. You want to talk, but you choose to stay quiet.

   Now that you weren’t so skittish anymore, it finally dawned you how the snow was beautifully spread throughout the streets, the trees, the buildings. Everything that was cool, cold, blue, held some fascination to you. Summer was never really your season – it had always been winter. To be able to curl up on your couch with a warm blanket and a hot cup of coffee, it was heavenly. You always thought that, if you could see the world through a color palette, it would be in different shades of blue.

  The snow was not the only thing that you were entranced by, though. Yoongi was, from what you saw so far, much like winter to you. Harsh when needed, cool, but also peaceful and comforting. He didn’t urge you to talk about the incident; he didn’t urge you to talk at all. His mannerisms caught your attention from time to time – how he constantly ran his long fingers through his hair, how his eyes seemed to flutter shut lazily a few times in a row, or how he carried himself so elegantly that it almost made you jealous. He looked terribly familiar, too.

  “Why are you staring?” His bluntness caught you off guard, but still couldn’t disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

  “Just curious.” It was true. “Apart from the motorcycle and the superhero complex, I don’t know much about you.”

  “Well, there’s not much to know.”

  You hummed in response. “What are you doing here, then?” You ask, and his feet come to a halt.    

  “What is this, an interrogation?”

  You scoff, and you both start walking again. “Just trying to make conversation. Besides, I’m actually curious,” you ponder. “People don’t move into this town very often,” you kick the snow under your feet. He sighs.

  “I’m here with my… brother,” he hesitated before continuing, “he’s my guardian, sort of. We used to move a lot. Work thing.” He couldn’t hold back a grimace, but it disappeared in a second. You wanted to ask about his parents, but felt like you’d be crossing a line, so you kept your curiosity to yourself. “Now you tell me,” he said.

  “Tell you what?”

  “About yourself. Your family. Whatever you want to.”

  “Um, let me see. I live with my mom. We moved from Italy when I was about three years old. My dad… my dad stayed.” You didn’t want to get into it, and he immediately noticed, just nodding for you to continue. “She’s been taking care of me by herself since then.”

  He hummed in understanding, sparing you a few glances that you couldn’t quite decipher.

  Before you knew, your house was already in sight. You wished you lived farther, just so you could keep that strange interaction on for a little longer.

  “Well, this is me,” you announced. Lying about your address had crossed your mind somewhere along the way.

  “Sorry if I was a jerk,” he surprised you by saying. You mouth opens and closes a few times before you say anything.

  “It’s okay, I guess. I was pretty riled up, too.”

  He nodded. “See you Monday, then?” His voice was deep and silky.

  “Yeah. Hey, I… I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

  “I am, too,” there was a dark undertone in his voice. “Good night, Y/N,” he surprised you by leading his right hand to the top of your head and lightly messing your hair before walking away. You stood still for a minute, until your mother opened the door.

  “Y/N?! Darling, why did you take so long? I was so worried!”

  “Um… Sorry, mom. I ran into a friend and my phone was off.”

  “Well, you should’ve at least borrowed your friend’s phone to let me know, things aren’t like they used to be around these parts anymore, it’s getting pretty danger-“

   She kept talking as she let you in, but you couldn’t concentrate. That night, you dreamt of him.

   ||\\                            

 “(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

     You didn’t think of yourself as an early riser, but when Monday morning came, you woke up before the alarm – and seemed almost delighted to do so. To be honest, you really tried to ignore the eagerness to see him again, but to no avail. The day before was thoroughly torturous, flashes of the short period of time you spent together coming back to haunt you now and then. At some point, you were so annoyed that you just lied on the bed and attempted to blast your eardrums off by listening to some crappy rock band at full volume. It didn’t work, obviously, and now you probably had hearing damage. The cons and cons of obsession.

  At this exact moment, for the first time in your entire friendship, you were banging on Taehyung’s door first. Because you just couldn’t wait a minute longer.

  “Damn it, woman, was is it with you today?” The sound of his voice was muffled. That, or you were going deaf, there was no way to tell for sure.

  “You’re going to make us late, Marzipan!” At that, he opened his bedroom door slightly, just enough so you could peek at his disheveled hair and sleepy face.

  “It’s dick o’clock in the morning, we have at least forty minutes until we leave,” his voice was rugged and he had an aggrieved look plastered on his pouty face.

  “I brought you coffee,” you smiled at him while raising the thermal cup.

  “Stop the madness and go wait for me downstairs, Gilmore girl,” he grunted. “Dad probably misses you, the poor old man. Keep him company, will ya?”

  “Don’t be silly, Mrs. Kim need his sleep in the morning.”

  “Then shut up and don’t wake him,” he grunted, closing the door shut, but it took him just a second to reopen it. “Wait, if dad’s asleep, how did you get in?”

  “I, uh… Might or might not know that you keep a spare key inside the porcelain elf’s hat,” your lips tugged upwards sheepishly.

  “Of course you do, you little imp. I’ll be down in a sec,” he grumbled and shut the door again.

  Taehyung had asked you a couple of times why you were so anxious to get to school that morning, but you just brushed it off with an excuse that you knew he wouldn’t buy. There were several reasons as to why you wanted to keep things to yourself for now. Mainly, it was because you were afraid that he’d be furious enough to break Ian’s face in front of everybody once you told him the whole story. Not that you felt any sympathy, but rather that you didn’t want Tae to get in trouble. You’d tell him as soon as you could, though. You didn’t care for the idea of him being friends – or whatever they were – with Jimmy.

  As soon as you stepped into school ground, you discreetly searched for his motorcycle in the parking lot. It wasn’t there. You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face, but you couldn’t help it. He didn’t come today. Who cares? As much as you wanted to force some sense into your stubborn brain, you were still hoping he’d show up, even if you didn’t talk to each other. You just wanted to see him, is all. Great time to start acting like a stupid teenager, Y/N. Kudos.

  You were in the middle of a pretty heated argument with yourself as you entered the classroom. Taehyung picked a desk in the middle, as he usually did when the both of you were able to sit next to each other. You were almost putting your stuff down at his side when something caught your attention. There. You felt a girlish jolt of excitement when you saw Yoongi sitting at the last row. His silky black hair was damped, probably from the shower, and he was wearing a black, long sleeved shirt, v cut. You were about to divert your eyes, but then he stared right at your face and calmy removed his bag from the chair next to his. He smirked, as if defying you to take a seat. Annoying little piece of-

  “Tae, do you mind if I sit somewhere else today?”

  “What?” He looked at you, confused. “Where do you want us to…” Your eyes flashed to the end of the room and he followed your gaze. “What? Why would you-”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Uh… No?”

  “Okay, great. See you soon.” You knew Taehyung was confused, so you should probably be thinking of what to tell him when this class was over. But for now, you just carried yourself to the empty spot in the back. Yoongi was looking at you with an amused expression, hiding his little smile behind his intertwined hands. You wanted to wash that smug off his face so bad. You took a seat and his scent assaulted you, warm and musky. Almost irresistible. You saw Taehyung from across the room gazing at the both of you with an inscrutable countenance.

  “Is your boyfriend mad that you sat with me today?” He audaciously asked.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “I see. Must be hard, then,” he looked almost sympathetic.

  “What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

  “Nevermind. Tell me how was your Sunday,” he said while opening his notebook and doodling something you couldn’t decipher yet.

  “So we’re friends now?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Shouldn’t you ask me first?” You lifted your brow.

  “You’re bossy today.”

  You were about to give him a proper answer when the teacher barged in, almost breathless. As the class began, focusing on Hess’s Law was your main priority, it really was. But you couldn’t help the tingle crawling up your skin every time he unintentionally bumped his arm into yours, because he was still drawing, keeping his head down since Mrs. Edwards started talking. Still, you couldn’t move. No. Focus. You held onto the edge of your desk with one hand, knuckles white, as you kept the other taking notes on the subject.

  “Relax,” he softly whispered, not taking his eyes away from his notebook. You immediately loosened the tight grip of your left hand.

  “I’m relaxed,” you lied, imitating his tone. He chuckled, lifting his head to show you the most beautiful gummy smile. God, why was he so distractingly handsome? His soft, pale skin, his cat-like eyes. His hands, Lord, you wouldn’t even dwell on his hands. Everything about him was appealing, alluring. His voice, his smell, his gaze. He was devilish.  

  All of a sudden, he ripped off the page he was working on. You tried not to get even more distracted, keeping your eyes on the board, until he touched your arm with his hand. You tensed. “Here, keep this if you want to,” he said, passing the folded paper to you. Curiosity washed over your face and you were about to unfold it, but he stopped you. “I don’t think you should open it now.”

  “Why? Is it, like, an erotic sketch?” You could tell you broke his demeanor a little, he seemed both shocked and amused.

  “I wonder if that kind of thought crosses your brain very often. You’re filthy, Y/N,” he smirked. You almost choked at his tone and his words. He was teasing you, and you refused to go down without a fight.

  “Well, I don’t exactly know you, do I? You could be a perv.” He bit back a chuckle.

  “I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

  “Will I, now?”

  “Yes. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

  “You haven’t convinced me yet.”

  “Challenge accepted.” The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, then the bell rang. He grabbed his stuff and got up, then tilted his head and asked, “Do you want a ride… friend?”

  “I thought you didn’t ride here today.” Confusion stained his expression before he realized the meaning behind your words. You could see the enlightenment in his face and suddenly banging your head on a wall wasn’t all too bad. He was too cocky for his own good, and now you’ve just made it worse. Way to go.

  “I parked on a different spot,” he responded.

  “Yeah, sure. Uh, anyways… Thanks for the offer, but I’m going home with Tae.”

  “Suit yourself.” Before walking away, he turned around and said, “I’ll save you a seat tomorrow, Y/N.” Before you could elaborate an answer, he was already out the door, and Taehyung was in front of you with that ‘what-the-actual-fuck’ face he made every time he was caught off guard.

  “I’ll explain on the way home,” you sighed.

        ||\\

  You were both in the safety of your bedroom when you told Taehyung everything. From how Ian tried to do God knows what with you, to why he wasn’t able to. Pure luck. It was pure luck that Yoongi happened to be passing by, and it was pure luck that he’d bothered to check what was going on. You told him Jimmy was there. You saw the guilt and rage clawing their way to his chest, and there it was; the reason you were wary to tell him in the first place. Taehyung was explosive, a force of nature when he let himself indulge.

  “I’ll kill him. Why did you hide that from me?” Even though he was trying his best to hold back, you could still tell how furious he truly was. “Answer me, Y/N, I’m not fucking around here,” he didn’t mean for it to sound like a scold, but it still did.

  “I knew you’d be mad,” you retorted.

  “Of course I’d be fucking mad. I don’t think you understand just how mad I am.”

  “I know. Tae, really, nothing serious happened. It’s not worthy getting yourself in trouble for it.”

  “How can you even say that?” he barked.

  “Promise me you’ll let it go,” you asked softly.

  He looked like he’d just heard the worst profanity fall from your lips. “I don-“

  “Promise, Tae,” you were using your serious voice now, the one you used to tell him that no, it was not okay for him to mess with your books back when you were kids. You took it to the heart too often. He stared at you for a moment or two before sighing.

  “Okay,” he grudgingly said. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said after a moment.

  “It’s not your fault. Really, it’s not.”

  “I know. I’m just… sorry,” he let his head rest on your lap. You hummed and stroke his hair for a while. These little moments of utter understanding and peace was one of the reasons he was your best friend. The person you could rely on, always. And he could always rely on you, too.

||\\

   A few weeks passed you by in the blink of an eye. After the infamous events of that night, you and Yoongi grew closer each day. Not that it was always easy, he was infuriating at times; you had to be sharp to keep up with the incessant bickering. But, for what it’s worth, you were able to gather that he was much more than just a little shit, even though he tried to deny it. 

   And you suppose that’s one of the reasons to why your stomach flutters and your heart skips a couple of beats when he gets too close. 

   Probably a month too late, you come across that piece of paper Yoongi had mysteriously given you the first morning you sat together.  You took it in your hands with a gasp and carefully unfolded it, taking a sharp intake of breath at the drawing. It was a pair of eyes – your eyes, perfectly detailed by strong, yet delicate, traces. It was beautiful and left no room for doubts as to whose they were. The cocky bastard was actually pretty talented, you had to give him that. Before you had much time to think about it, your phone rang. You hesitated a moment before picking up, the number was unknown.

  “Hello?”

  “Did you like it?” The voice on the other line was coarse and drawn, and you recognized it immediately.

  “How did you get my number?” You asked while laying yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

   He had become a constant whenever you were at school or at the library. Nothing beyond that. The call was a pleasent surprise.

  “I have my ways. Will you answer at least one of my questions anytime soon?” There was a hint of a boyish amusement in his tone, and that instantly made you lighter. You liked him better in a good mood.

  “You don’t answer any of mine, so why should I bother?” You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you.

  “That’s hardly fair. What do you want to know, George?”

  You scoffed at the nickname. “First things first. I want to know how you got my number.”

  “It’s not so hard to get privileged information on the students’ personal data if you’re charming enough. Ms. Parker has a soft spot for me.” Of course. You should’ve seen it coming.

  “You’re shameless,” you scolded half-heartedly, taking a plushie in your hands and squeezing it.

  “It’s one of my many qualities. So, can you answer me now?”

  “Hmm… I might’ve liked it,” you stated, referring to the book he’d recommended. “But you’re already a pretty conceited man, so I should probably spare you the details.”

  He was silent for a while, and you almost mention the drawing you found in your backpack. But then, he’s talking again. “So you think I’m pretty, huh?”

 “Are you… Have you-“ you stammered in astonishment and he chuckled. “Do you actually select the words you want to hear?” you asked and he hummed.

  “Where are you?”

  “Home,” you answered without much thought.

  “I’ll pick you up in ten. Be ready.”

  “Wait, what?” You jolted out of the bed, dropping the plushie on the floor. “You can’t just… decide that. What if I’m busy?”

  “You’re not.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “But you do,” He sounded almost confused. And he was right, you did want to. Somewhere deep inside your brain there was a voice saying that you should’ve objected at least a little bit more. But, against your better judgement, you kept quiet, and soon enough your silence gave you away. “I’m hanging up now. See you soon, George.” You meant to talk back to him, but he’d already ended the call. That, arrogant, insolent, contemptuous jer-

  Before finishing that thought, you remembered you didn’t have much time. So you took a five minute shower, put on a little mascara and went out of the bathroom to find something to wear. There wasn’t enough time to go wild, so you just went for your favorite pair of mom jeans and tucked a burgundy sweater in. After brushing your hair and your teeth, you were ready.

  As soon as you were done, you heard a horn and rushed to the window. There he was, in all his glory, hips resting against his stupidly cool Triumph Rocket. Black boots, black jeans, black long-neck shirt and his usual leather jacket. Wonder what his favorite color might be, you scoffed. He shot you a smirk that made you hold your breath for a moment. It now occurred to you that you had no idea as to where he was taking you. Also, was it a date? A friend thing? Shit. You should’ve said no. You sighed. It was too late now.

  Before running downstairs, you sprayed a little bit of perfume on the nape of your neck and your wrists. Chloé, your signature scent.

  “I’m going out for a bit.”

  She was sitting by the window with a hot beverage on her hands and a book on her lap. Like mother, like daughter.

  “Last time you said that…”

  “I know,” you cut her off gently. “But I have class tomorrow. I promise I won’t be long.”

  “Is your phone charged, young lady?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  “Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

  “Sure thing. Bye, mom,” you gave her a brief peck on the forehead and rushed out the door.

  He was waiting for you at the porch, even more breathtaking now that you could see him up close. His musky scent was stronger and his pale skin was glowing. He was drinking you in with mysteriously piercing eyes.

  “Come,” he said, taking you by the hand.

  “Where are we going anyway?” you asked. As the both of you approached his motorcycle, you were trying your best not to trip.

  “You’ll see.” He took a helmet off a compartment that you didn’t know to exist and cupped your face to hold you still before he put it on you.

  “Is this like a Hitchcock movie? Will you take me just far enough so I can meet my fate by the end of the night?” A hint of dread crossed his features, but he composed himself soon enough.

  “Do you believe in fate, Y/N?” He asked, fixing the straps under your chin, his fingers setting your skin aflame.

  “I don’t know,” you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but his countenance urged you to provide a proper answer. “Faith is just not my strong suit, I guess,” you mumbled.

  Yoongi pondered about what you said for a moment. “Hold that thought, yeah?” Then he climbed the vehicle. “Hop on,” he started the engine. You were now too aware of the fact that you had never ‘hopped on’ one of those. “Don’t worry, I’m a really good driver,” he tugged his lips upwards.

  “I just… I’ve never done this.”

  “What, ride a motorcycle?” He asked and you nodded. “Trust me. I wouldn’t let anything happen,” he reassured you.

  I know. So you climbed the damn thing and held tight onto his waist, almost comforted by his warmth. He felt the sensitive skin on his back crawl at the contact. Especially between his shoulder blades.

||\\

     You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. If you had any doubt that Yoongi was a mad man, those god-knows-how-many minutes on the back of his motorcycle had erased them completely. He was going fast. You could feel the wind ricocheting your face relentlessly, and every time he had to make a turn, your stomach fluttered. Sometimes, he turned his head just a little bit, as if checking if you were at least breathing, but you would grit your teeth and snap at him to look ahead, tightening your grip. You could feel him chuckle, his whole upper body being assaulted by small tremors.

  But when you finally arrived at your destination, it was all worth it.

  “Do you like it?” Expectation washed all over his ethereal features.

  “Do I… like it? It’s amazing,” your eyes sparkled with wonder and astonishment at the sight of the ocean. You were at a relatively high spot, like a small cliff, and you could smell the delicious salty breeze that you adored so much. But what truly amazed you, what really took your breath away, was the electric blue lights sparkling all over the wave crests. “Bioluminescence! How did you find this place? Can we go down?” You asked with the biggest smile, a childish excitement seeping through your tone. He giggled, the most magnificent, angelic sound you had ever heard.

  “I’d rather if we didn’t. I don’t want you to meet your fate at those slippery rocks, it wouldn’t be very Hitchcock-y,” he joked. You felt a bit disappointed but chose to let it go. The night, the sea, the sky; it was all too beautiful for you to allow yourself to be petty.

  He took a few steps ahead and sat closer to the edge, wind whisking his hair and making his catlike eyes narrow. You followed suit, sitting in lotus by his side. You both took a minute to appreciate the sight, falling into a comfortable silence, that was soon broken by his husky voice.

  “I come here a lot when I need to remind myself of who I am. Of where I’m from,” he said, still looking at the waters below, eyebrows furrowed. “I never thought of bringing anyone else here before.”

  “So why did you?” Your voice was small, whispered.

  “I don’t know. I guess…” he stopped for a moment. “I possibly just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I don’t know any place else that feels more like home to me. Perhaps I also wanted to share it with you.” Then he turned his gaze to you, eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was divine, bewitching. Especially now, when he seemed to be opening up to you for the first time. You felt your heartbeat speed up at his confession.

  “Thank you,” you said softly, diverting your gaze to the waves. “I can understand why you’re so fond of this place. It’s blissful, feels like heaven.”

   He humms, fixing his gaze on the crashing waves above you.

  “Y/N.” He was surveying your face now, as if trying to read you. Expectant. 

  “Yes?”

  “Do you believe in heaven?” His voice is a whisper and, for a moment, you wonder if you’d heard him correctly. 

  That was probably the last question you’d expected from him, it took you completely by surprise. You inhaled deeply, searching for the right words, but ended up blurting what first came to mind.

  “For all I know, heaven is here. Hell, too. I want to be better, yes, for the people I love. I want to be better for whoever needs me to be, because I know how tough this can get. If there’s an afterlife… at least I’ll know that I tried to be good for the right reasons. So yeah, let’s say I don’t dwell on it. Whatever happens, happens.”

   By the time you finished talking, there was something sparkling deep inside his onyx eyes that you couldn’t recognize.

  “That’s sort of refreshing,” and there it was again. The sheepish gummy smile you adored so much, so utterly genuine and divine you thought you’d die.

  “What about you?”

  “Yes. Heaven, Hell, the whole ordeal. Except for God.”

  “But… How would it be possible for all those things to exist without God?”

  “That is not what I said,” he let out a humorless little chuckle. “Let it suffice that God is… I believe, much too real. Just not how humankind paint him to be. I believe God exists; I just don’t believe in him. Not anymore.” His tone was raw and melancholic. You ached with the need to console him, because he seemed adrift; and that bothered you more than it should.

  Without realizing, your face had gotten closer to his, and suddenly he was all over the place. All you could see, smell, hear, it was all him. He must have known, because then he traced your features lightly with his long, graceful fingers. You thought that was it. That was heaven.  

  You closed your eyes so you could savor every second of it, heartbeat going wild and butterflies assaulting your stomach. He lifted his other hand, and now he was cupping your face gingerly, like you were made of glass. Every touch ignited something foreign and glorious inside of you.

  He shifted, moving closer, and his scent hit you, unyielding, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was enough to set something off, and your hands made their way to his neck on their own as you let out a shaky breath. You pressed yourself harder and sucked on his bottom lip, before caressing it with the tip of your tongue, earning a groan from him.

   Well, shit.

  He took the hair in the nape your neck in a dainty – yet firm – fistful, asking permission with his tongue to deepen the kiss. There was no denying him, you could never. His taste, God, you could spend eternity tasting every single bit of him. When he licked past your teeth, you moaned, and it was so utterly pleasing, sinful, that he felt compelled to go harder, mercilessly swirling his tongue inside your mouth. There was no room to breathe, the neediness for one another unbending.

  You don’t know how much time you spent in that haze of mind-numbing desire, but neither of you dared to stop. Until your phone rang.

  You jerked away, pupils blown wide from the intensity of the moment, skin flushed. You were both panting, eyes trained on each other, searching, scrutinizing, waiting for a reaction. His reddened, glistening lips were parted slightly and he seemed displeased to cut the moment short. Even so, he managed to talk.

  “You should probably get that,” he gusted, trying to catch his breath.  You couldn’t find it in yourself to do anything but nod.

  You took the device out of your back pocket and checked the ID caller, brows furrowing. He mirrored your expression.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s a girl from school. We have history class together. That’s… odd,” you said. You and Sarah have never had a real conversation, one that didn’t involve Napoleon or Julien Sorel. You just had her number saved because of a paper you had to do together a while ago. “Hello?”

  “Y/N? Thank God,” she sounded truly relieved. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you but… We’re at the school’s gym and-“ she let out a loud gasp, and only then you noticed the noise in the background, an uproar of voices and… Did you did hear a punch?

  “Sarah? What is it?”

  “Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

  Your blood ran cold.

  “What? Is he okay? Sarah, tell me what’s going on. Now,” you blurted, already standing, missing the way Yoongi’s face contorted in confusion and concern.

  “We tried to stop them, we really did, I-“

  “Sarah,” you grunted.

  “Okay, yeah. Him and Ian are at each other’s throats right now, it’s pretty bad. Y/N, I don’t think it’ll be long before someone calls the cops. I just thought I’d let you know, ‘cause-“

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” you cut her off, and then hang up.

  You were a lot of things at that moment, but mostly worried and angry. You had told him not to, you had told him to let it go, and he went behind your back. You heart rate was through the roof, adrenaline rushing through your veins. But this time, it wasn’t out of passion.

  “Y/N,” Yoongi had a wary look on his face. “Tell me.”

  “Can you take me back? Tae’s in trouble.”

  ||\\

  He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t meant to break his promise, but he knew it was bound to be broken the minute he made it. The idea of someone else touching you was torturous enough, but to think of them doing it without your consent actually drove him crazy with rage. Those unbidden images of you scared, asking that piece of shit to stop, only for him to hold you tighter, closer, wrapping his filthy hands around you… it wouldn’t stop coming to him, even though he’d tried his hardest to restrain them. It had haunted him ever since you told him. He felt sick. He hated himself for not being there for you, with you. Like the disgraceful best friend he was, he’d canceled movie night to get wasted. Ugly feelings, even the ones he didn’t care to admit, pierced their sharp claws at his chest. Guilt, exasperation, jealously.

  He’d tried to suppress the bitterness from watching you with the new guy, he tried to be just glad that he was there and hold out against it, because if he wasn’t… The point is: he really tried. But the way you looked at him made Taehyung’s stomach sink. He’d never seen it before, and he craved it like a man in the desert did a single drop of water. He wanted to be on the receiving end of that gaze more than anything.

  He’d go mad if he stayed inside, so he went out for a jog. Your mother had told him you weren’t home, and he figured you’d be at the coffee shop near school. What a big surprise it was when he found Ian next to a blue SUV that was parked near the gymnasium. He choked out a chuckle; it was just too tempting. Rage boiled trough his veins, and at that moment he knew he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t not break that scumbag in half, even if that meant he’d be going against your wishes.

  So he did. Every punch, given or taken, satisfied him little by little. Because he also deserved to be punished, he thought.

 ||\\

    “What was that shit that you pulled? After I explicitly told you to stay out of it! Why now?”

  Taehyung had a bloody nose, a deep cut just above his eyebrow and some pretty ugly purple spots all over his upper body, staining his previously pristine skin. When you and Yoongi had arrived at school, you discovered he’d been taken. By a police officer, nonetheless.

  You’d been so mad. But now that he was in front of you, all screwed up in torn clothes, the speech you had prepared escaped your mind. You just couldn’t understand his impulsiveness, and the fact that he was in a tiny, smelly cell because of you was infuriating.

  “We both knew it was bound to happen eventually, so I figured rather sooner than later,” he answered nonchalantly.

  “Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

  “What, Y/N?!” He snapped. “You wanted me to let him get away with it?”

  “Yes! Yes, I literally told you that that’s what I wanted!”

  “Well, too bad,” he darkly said. He knew he was in the wrong here. But he was just too riled up to think straight.

  “Okay,” you said, taking a sharp intake of breath while running your fingers through your hair, “Okay, let’s be practical about this. Your dad is coming, right? We can talk about it at home.”

  “Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

  “Fine,” you, too, knew how to be petty. “I’ve got to go outside for a minute. Behave,” your gaze flashed to an officer for a second, but quickly made its way back to Taehyung. When you realized he wouldn’t give you an answer, you just sighed and carried yourself out the door.

  As soon as you stepped out of the threshold, you saw Yoongi leaning on his motorcycle, arms crossed and head hanging from his shoulders. You didn’t know what tonight had meant. You wanted to at least try to figure out if he felt the same as you did, but you had bigger problems. And to be honest, you’d rather sleep on it. It was all too intense and hazy.

  “Hey,” you said, walking slowly towards him. He lifted his head and offered a tiny smile.

  “Your boyfriend really hates my guts, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s not-“ you cut yourself off when you realized he was just messing with you again. Of course he is, he stuck his tongue down your throat just an hour ago. “Anyways. I guess Tae will be out in a couple of hours, but I have to stay here and wait for Mr. Kim. Thank you for… tonight.”

  He nodded. “No problem, George. I’ll call y-“

  Suddenly, his eyebrows knitted together and his whole body tensed as he straightened himself. If you ever told anyone about this, you’d probably be admitted in a mental facility. But you swore that, for an instant, his eyes changed colors, going from pitch black to a deep violet. It happened in a heartbeat, and then he wasn’t looking at you anymore, but at something past your shoulder. You felt a chill run down your spine as you turned around to see what caught his attention.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man was walking towards you. As his lean figure got closer, the tension grew almost palpable, and you could see from afar he had a small smile plastered on his plump lips. But it wasn’t comforting at all. Instead, it was vile, almost sadistic. Your head snapped to Yoongi again, and you saw how he didn’t move a muscle, fists closed tight and jaw clenched. That made you panic a little.

  “Yoongi, what-“

  “Y/N, go inside,” his voice was hoarse and restrained, like he hadn’t talked in weeks.

  No, you wanted to say. That man, whoever he was, screamed bad news. He walked like a predator, and you felt like his prey. Though your self-preservation instincts were going wild with every step he took, something stronger made you want to stay. You knew he wasn’t here for you, but for him. And that sparked a need to protect him that you didn’t know to exist, nor where it came from. However, you just kept quiet and waited for the man to catch up, not missing the murderous aura emitted from Yoongi.

  At last, he stood in front of you, reddish hair and twisted smirk still on his face. You could see him clearly now, and he was beautiful. The kind of beauty you’ve only seen once.

  “Has anyone actually pressed charges this time, little brother?” His voice was deceivingly soft.

   Brother?

  “How did you find me?” Yoongi asked with an icy voice that almost made you shudder.

  “Is that how you greet your elders? Father would not be pleased.”

  “Well, you’re one to talk, aren’t you?”

  “People are still hung up on that, I see,” the man chuckled. “Yoongi-ah,” he said, his feet taking him closer at a slower pace. Yoongi kept his ground, knuckles white from his balled-up fists, while you instinctively took a step back. That’s when they both seemed to acknowledge your presence. Yoongi’s eyes bulged slightly, his pale skin becoming ever paler, while the other wore an unreadable expression on his face.

  “I told you to go inside,” he almost growled, taking your wrist in an iron grip and pulling you to stand behind his back. You didn’t understand. You didn’t understand any of it. Why did he seem so threatened by his own blood? The man was scary, sure, but was he actually dangerous? Your head was spinning, so you held onto his jacket to keep yourself vertical.

  “Were you not planning on introducing me to your friend, baby brother? That’s just rude, you know how much I love meeting new people.”

  “I’d advise you to be careful now, Jin.” The threat in Yoongi’s low voice was noticeable even to you, but Jin didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he relished on it. His little brother didn’t get all protective over just anyone, and the fact that he didn’t want the eldest to know about you pointed straight to a weak spot. One which he intended to take full advantage of.

  “Easy, Prince, no need to get riled up,” Jin chuckled again, lifting both hands in a sign of peace. “What do you take me for?”

  “Neither of us can deny your nature, can we, brother? It’s the reason why we’re here in the first place.”

  “It’s true. Have you told her your name yet? Since you appear very comfortable sharing such details in front of her.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought I had made myself clear the last time we saw each other,” Yoongi changed the subject, hoping you wouldn’t pay much attention to his question.

  Jin’s face turned serious for the first time before he spoke. “They approached me, Yoongi-ah. It would seem that they need their Flam-“

  “Quit it!” Yonngi growled. “Hold your tongue, I don’t want to hear any of it. You need to go.”

  “Not until I have delivered my message.” The well-proportioned man stood his ground.

  Yoongi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He could not have this kind of conversation in front of you – in front of anyone, for that matter. Jin was breaking the rules; an old habit of his. “Then I need you to wait for me at home. I suppose you already know where I live, don’t you? I’ll meet you there soon.”

  “Alright then. Y/N, it was splendid meeting you. I do hope I get to see you again soon.”

  Yoongi scowled as he watched Jin turn on his heels and disappear in the night. For all he knew, Jin would never get this close to you ever again. He was caught off guard today. He then turned around, black orbs scrutinizing you for a reaction.    

  There were many things going through your mind at that exact moment. Too many questions, he could tell. You looked at him in a grimace of confusion and horror.

  “How did he know my name?” That was the first thing that popped into your mind. You hadn’t said your name, neither did Yoongi. “And who’s ‘they’? And did he really just call you prince? Is that a pet name or something?” You blurted out, sensing you wouldn’t have too much time to elaborate the questions the way you wanted to.

  He looked into your eyes, face contorted in what you could only describe as a desperate hesitation, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a fine line. He was pondering his options. You knew that because, when he made up his mind, you could clearly see the taint of resolution.

  “I can’t answer your questions,” he muttered.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m really sorry, Y/N. Please, just forget about this. All of it.”

  “What are you talking about?” you were on the brink of losing it at this point. First Taehyung, and now this. He wasn’t making any sense. But his eyes spoke to you in ways he couldn’t. Only then, you understood. “No,” you said with a resolution of your own. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me right away, whatever it is, just don-“

  “Y/N.”

  “Yes?!”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Listen to me just this once,” he groaned, stepping into your personal space. He twisted your hair in one hand, holding your face securely to his. When he rested his forehead on yours, your eyes gave into his wishes, closing on their own. “I’ll be gone for a little while, George,” your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt him. He gave you a light peck on the mouth, lips soft and moist, breath hot on your face. “I have to settle some things straight. Be good for me while I’m gone, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid,” he frowned.

  “Will you come back?” your voice almost cracked, ‘cause you weren’t so sure of his answer. You felt foolish. You’ve only known him for a short period of time, after all. But the intensity of your feelings, though you couldn’t discern them clearly yet, scared you.

  This felt horribly like goodbye – it was, at least for now – and you hated it.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” you answered straight away.

  “Alright,” he nodded. “Then I will.”

  You didn’t dare open your eyes when he stepped away from you after one last chaste peck on your lips, nor when you heard him start the engine of his Triumph. But when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, you jolted slightly and your eyes fluttered open.  

  “Let’s get you inside, kid” Mr. Kim said softly, brushing away a lonesome tear from your cheek. “Then you can help me scold my boy for making us come all the way to the police station on a school day, how does that sound?” he tried to uplift your spirit, and you offered him a half-hearted smile.

   ||\\

                                                       “Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

     It’d been four weeks since the last time you saw him. A whole month since he’d disappeared completely. At first, you waited anxiously for him to reappear out of nowhere. For him to just slide into the classroom, like he’d done the first time. But as time passed by and the third week came, you grew worried. He didn’t get specific about how much time it would take for him to do whatever it was, but you imagined it would be one, maybe two weeks. But now, a month later, you were beginning to wonder if he’d even come back at all. If something had happened, if he was okay…

  No. He promised.

  You’d rather not dwell on the possibility of something going wrong – hell, you didn’t even know what he was doing or what was that strange conversation he had with his deviant brother in front of the police station. You had a few theories, though. Not that you’d ever utter them out loud.

  Number one: mafia. Maybe not The Godfather sort of thing, since that seemed pretty outdated, but rather… Scarface, perhaps? So you had come up with the idea of Jin being a druglord; nothing more, nothing less. It made sense, to be honest.

  Number two: well, number two wasn’t exactly clear on your mind, but had something to do with super rich parents and an insane heritage. He could be the prince of an empire, right? You didn’t know anything about his family, except that his brother was blood-curdling.

  You just wished to keep your head in the right place until he explained the situation to you. If he explained, that is. Sighing, you tried to contain your derailed thoughts and get back to the real world, where Taehyung needed you to pay attention to Mamma Mia! for the nth time.

  “Alright, that’s it. You didn’t even sing along during S.O.S and that’s where I draw the line,” he said, taking the remote from your hand and pausing the movie. It was a cozy night and you were both plopped on the couch wearing socks and sweatpants.

  “When have I ever sang along during S.O.S, Tae?”

  “I remember it vividly, we were eleven. But that’s not the point,” he retorted. You bit your lip and kept your eyes trained on the frozen screen of the TV, already sensing where this was going. “You’ve been like this for a while now.”

  “Like what?” you pushed, trying to feign innocence. You were not in the mood for this right now. You just wanted to stare unseeingly at the TV and have some private time with your own thoughts until the movie was over.

  He sighed. “Look, I can only guess what’s going on,” he scowled, but tried to compose his features into a serene mask before speaking again. “But I need you to not be in your own head for a minute.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I want to help,” he said, taking your hand in his. The touch was warm and familiar.

  “I know, Marzipan,” another sigh. You took your hand from his carefully and got up. “I’m going to the store, you want something?”

  “What, now? Y/N-“

  “I just-, I need coffee and snacks if we’re pulling this off. If you want me to keep my eyes opened during Moulin Rouge, that is,” you pointed out matter-of-factly

  Taehyung shifted in his seat, face contorted in confusion, wariness and a hint of hurt. “Do you want me to go with you? It’s late.”

  “No, it’s fine. You can stay and plan ahead, I’m sure we’re not stopping at the next one.”

  He watched you silently while you fumbled for your keys. When you found them, he muttered: “Don’t be too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  As soon as you crossed the threshold, the cold air of the night hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. You closed the door and hid your hands in the pockets of your sweater, bringing it closer to your body in a poor attempt to keep the warmth from escaping.

  Walking towards the convenience store located a couple of blocks from your house, you let yourself get lost in headspace again. You knew you weren’t being fair to Taehyung. As much as you wanted to talk about this situation with him, you couldn’t. It felt like betraying someone who hadn’t even put their trust in you to begin with. Yes, it was unfair, and maybe you were being a shitty friend every time he tried to have a serious conversation about the subject and you brushed him off with an excuse, like getting coffee in the middle of the night.

  You sighed, not really willing to wallow in guilt tonight, and just tried to focus on your immediate task. One step after the other, then one more, and you could already see the lights of a tiny single shop, the only one opened this late at night. It belonged to Mr. Newton, a sweet old baker who treated you kindly every time he was filling up for his cashier.

  You entered the store and heard the little bell announce your arrival. Much to your surprise, Mr. Newton was working there that night. As he saw your expression of detachment, he frowned. So you tried to arrange your features in a polite smile before speaking.

  “Hello, Mr. Newton.”

  “Y/N, child, why are you wandering alone when it’s already this late?” he asked softly, though clearly concerned for your safety.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” you answered, walking towards the cooler where they kept the iced coffee and taking two in one hand, as you went for the chips next. “Tae and I needed a little snack. Movie night.”

  He nodded and you placed the items on the counter for him to scan.

  “Well, then. Tell that kid to come by whenever he can. My wife wants to send some essential oils for Mr. Kim’s aromatherapy sessions,” just as he’d said it, he got a bit closer to you, as if the next words to come out of his mouth were a secret. “Truth is, she misses him. The boy is the only one who can stand her cooking.”

  Despite being moody, you chuckled wholeheartedly. No one could be indifferent to Taehyung’s charms, it seemed.

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

  As you went through your wallet to pay the old man, you heard the little bell once again. Mr. Newton greeted the new client, but you were too engrossed in finding the right bills to snap your head in the newcomer’s direction. However, the inquisitive sound that left the old man caused you to steal a glimpse, catching auburn hair and broad shoulders in their wake. You stood still for a moment, trying to recall why those locks seemed so familiar. Until it hit you.

  “Jin?” you breathed, not loud enough for anyone in the store to actually hear you. Just as you muttered his name, he closed the door and turned left, disappearing from your sight. You gasped. “Keep the change, Mr. Newton!” you said – audibly, this time – leaving a ten dollar bill on the counter and grabbing your stuff as gracefully as you could muster, rushing to the door like your life depended on it.

  “No running in the store, kid!” he tried to scold you, but could already feel the cool breeze as you opened the door and looked around, expecting to find his brother. Only this time around you weren’t scared, no. You wanted answers, heart beating fast at the possibility of hearing from Yoongi, maybe even seeing him… Okay, no, not the time for this, first things first.

  When you realized he was nowhere to be found, you ran. Left. He went left. You passed by a few houses and almost tripped on a stray cat, turning your head to the side to check on it and apologizing profusely as you picked up your pace again. A few blocks later, you were already out of breath. You came to a halt and put both hands on your knees, gasping and feeling your lungs burn.

  Trying to ease your labored breathing, you realized that you were probably going crazy. A halfhearted chuckle escaped your parted lips. You were disappointed, even if actually meeting the redhead meant trouble. Trying not to let frustration and melancholy get the best of you, you decided to just let it go and head back home. Even if it was Jin, he probably wouldn’t tell you anything anyway.

 ||\\

    The snow under your feet was slippery as you got out of the library, leather backpack and navy-blue beanie on. You held a large cappuccino on one hand, careful not to spill it as you dodged passers-by and umbrellas every now and then. The streets were a little crowded that afternoon, and you were dying to get home and relish on Mrs. D’Angelis’ famous chicken noodle soup. Maybe she’d even grant you a warm glass of wine if you asked properly. You tried to occupy your mind with ordinary, day-to-day thoughts, trying to ignore the flutter on the pit pf your stomach.

  During that entire week, you were constantly under the impression that something was off. When you were going to school with Taehyung, or grocery shopping for your mother, there was always that tingling feeling on the nape of your neck that told you that someone was watching. Then you’d turn around and nothing. No one was ever there. The uneasiness was uncomfortable, but you didn’t feel endangered, just really jittery. And your motto was: no better medicine for anxiety than tons of caffeine.

  “Mom, I’m home!” you crooned, taking your coat off and discarding the empty thermal cup.

  “In the kitchen, honey!”

  The smell was splendid. You took a deep breath, already yearning for the hot meal, and kissed your mother on the cheek while she stirred… something.

  “Uh, smells nice,” you praised, making your way to the fridge for a glass of water. “I’m shocked Tae hasn’t come knocking on our door yet. Maybe his flair is broken because of the flu.”

  “Is Taehyungie sick, honey? Why didn’t you tell me?” she almost whined.

  “It’s nothing, just a bit of phlegm. But I’ll take some of these,” you pointed to the pots, “for him and his dad later.”

  “You really should. Now go upstairs and change before dinner.”

  You mumbled a response and climbed the stairs to put on some good old band t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn’t notice the broad-shouldered frame behind the door, and as soon as you closed it behind you, you felt a cold hand covering your mouth, while the other held you in place by the waist. Your whole body tensed, eyes bulged and breath hitched. Fuck. You were prepared to let out a loud scream, but his whispered voice stopped you.

  “It’s me, it’s me,” he shushed you. As a reflex, your muscles relaxed. “Gonna take my hand off your mouth now, George,” he informed, slowly moving his hand from your face.

  Of course it was him. His smell was all over the place, his touch still left little electric jolts on your skin. You snapped your head and turned around to face him. You realized your memories could never do him justice. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, you could cry. Pale skin, shiny disheveled raven hair. You noticed the circles under his eyes were darker and he seemed exhausted. Regardless, when your eyes fell on his lips, your body reacted before your mind could.

  Your hands made their way to the nape of his neck, caressing and gently pulling his hair. At the same time, you clasped your lips together on a desperate kiss. His surprise didn’t stop him from matching your frenzy, grunting as he sucked your upper lip and asked permission with his tongue, one that you promptly granted. Henceforth, your tongues performed an erotic, lewd dance as they fought for dominance, swirling and exploring each other’s mouths.

  Only when the back of your knees touched the bed did you realize he was moving you towards it. He broke the kiss for a moment to mercilessly throw you on the soft duvet, and you let out a surprised moan when he immediately covered your body with his, mouth returning to yours. A primal need surged from within you when you felt one of his hands roaming at your side lustfully, gabbing tight on your ribcage, your waist, your hip. He hoisted your leg and you hooked it around him, holding back a loud moan when he pressed his erection to your groin. You could feel your panties drenching from the sudden contact, a new wave of desire making your core ache.

  “Y/N-“ he tried to speak through heavy breathing, his lips never leaving yours long enough for him to finish a sentence. “Baby,” he groaned, obviously trying to say something, but you weren’t ready yet. You rocked your hips against him, earning another lecherous noise from his rosy lips as he closed his eyes shut.

  You used that moment of weakness to knock him to his side, climbing on top of him as you clamped your thighs harder on his hips. His eyes went dark at the sight, a devilish smirk tainting his beautiful features. You didn’t give him time to say anything, taking his lips on another bruising kiss. His hands on your ass, squeezing and groping, and you felt him throb inside his pants. You moaned, a gush of wetness coming out as you clenched around nothing. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, pressing yourself harder against his bulge as you rolled your hips, searching blindly and desperately for a sweet release that was already so close…

  “Hold it, baby.” His voice was stern, and he pinned both your wrists on your back, his hands seeming incredibly big when closed around them. He was sitting now, hot, labored breath hitting your lips, heightening your senses and sending shivers down your spine. You crumbled under his dominant demeanor, feeling an inconceivable need to obey, and instantly stood still. It surprised him as much as it did you, and you saw a smug grin plaster itself on his face. “That’s it. Be good for me so I don’t lose my mind.”

  You let out a breath you didn’t know to be holding and weakly nodded, mind still clouded with want. He let go of your wrists and gently pecked your lips, sitting you down on the bed instead of his lap. Father knows he would be physically uncapable of having a proper train of thought if he didn’t.

  “So… I guess we have a lot to discuss first, don’t we?” his smile was sheepish now, hands going through his hair in a nervous tick.

  “Yes,” you breathed out. “What happened? I was so worried, Yoongi, you have no idea. I didn’t even know where you were or what the hell you were up to, I-“ you took a moment in order to stabilize your voice. You knew you were affected by his sudden absence, you just didn’t know how much until now that he was actually in front of you. “I don’t even know what the worst case scenario could be, but I bet my thoughts came pretty close,” you chuckled humorlessly.

  “I’m sorry, I never meant to worry you. If I knew I’d be gone for that long, I would’ve told you before I left. I missed you so much,” he confessed, voice lower than before, and rested his forehead on your own.

  “Tell me. Please, I need to know,” your brows furrowed.

  “I met my brothers,” he paused, waiting for a reaction that never came. It’s not that you were not surprised by the information that he had other siblings, you just wanted him to finish it before you spoke. “Jin aside, I spent… years apart from my family. You could say that we didn’t leave things on the best of terms when I left father’s, so it was a surprise for me when I learned that they wanted to talk. Notwithstanding that it’s out of need, not love.” His heavenly features contorted in hurt and resentment, and you felt you own heart clench. You gave him an eskimo kiss as a sign of reassurance and he smiled timidly. “They offered to take me back. It’s… certainly a grand gesture for the likes of us,” he shook his head slightly and knitted his brows.

  “Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you miss them?” you didn’t know why your voice was so small.

  “Not anymore, no.” His gaze was intense and made your heart beat impossibly faster. “I do miss them. They used to be my whole existence, the reason for every breath of mine. But now… now everything’s changed.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “You.”

  Your breath hitched. If it was anyone else, if it was any other situation, you’d laugh at the cheesy line. But this was him, and that, too, changed everything. That one word was enough to unleash butterflies in your stomach, enough of them to knock you breathless. The truth behind his statement carried a heavy meaning, one that you yearned for and that made you giddy. His onyx orbs were wary, and you wondered if he was blind to the utter relief plastered on your face. It was selfish, but you couldn’t help it. Not when it came to him.

  “H-How come?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t get bashful on me now, George, I’m pretty sure you understand.”

  You tried to scowl, but the grin was insistent on your lips. “Alright, let’s put a pin on that. You still haven’t told me everything. What did your brothers want?”

  “Y/N, there are certain things about me and my family that I cannot tell you. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  “You don’t trust me?” you were mainly curious, but a hint of hurt could be heard, too.

  “That’s not it. It just wouldn’t be safe for you.”

  “Is your family involved in something… illegal? Is that why?”

  “Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  “I know. But please, George, don’t be stubborn about this one. All I’m asking for is a leap of faith,” his eyes were pleading as they bore into yours. Was he aware that he could probably convince you that the sky was neon green if he looked at you like that?

  “It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

  “I know. Just trust that I have good reasons,” he smiled softly.

  You sighed. “Fine, Romeo, keep your secrets. Just tell me if you get too deep into whatever it is that the Min’s are hiding. I care about your safety just as much as you care about mine.” You forced the heat back, secretly hoping that it did not reach your face in time for you to actually blush.

  “Doubt it,” he grinned. “Dinner is ready, Mrs. D’Angelis will be coming for you soon. I should get going.”

  Your face paled as you rushed to the wardrobe, retrieving some clean clothes from your drawer. “Wait,” you stopped on your tracks in the middle of the room, glaring at Yoongi through narrowed eyes. “How do you know that?”

  “I have my ways,” he shrugged, then tugged his lips upwards on a daring smirk. “It’s a secret.”

  “If you keep giving me clues I might just figure it out. Go on.”

  He chuckled and stood up from the bed, walking languidly in your direction. He touched your nose with the tip of his index finger, tracing it’s way all up to your forehead, then coming down to your jaw, where he grabbed firmly. His lips were smooth and slightly damped as they softly touched yours in a chaste kiss. A ragged sigh of pure bliss escaped you, and you tried to fight the haziness.

  “Bye, George,” he was still lingering when he spoke. As he broke the contact and turned to the window, you woke up from the trance.

  “Stay,” you breathed out. He looked at you with a hint of confusion. “I-I mean, you can stay if you want. I can bring you some of mom’s soup and we can eat it here. But you don’t have to, if you’re bus-“

  “Okay,” he deadpanned.

  “Okay. Yeah, uhm… I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can make yourself comfortable.”

  “Already am,” he said as he threw himself on the bed, bouncing a little. His countenance was amused and he eyed you intently, toying with the elephant plushie.

  “Of course you are,” you snorted, carrying yourself to the bathroom.

  That night, you both relished on your mother’s cooking while watching some old movie about Cole Porter on your laptop. You were sure that it wasn’t his cup of tea, but he payed attention to it nonetheless. After you were done, you offered to take the dishes downstairs, since your mother would probably have a stroke if she knew there was a boy in your room. You stopped by Taehyung’s to check on him and offer his favorite hot meal, but it didn’t take more than five minutes. You were on a hurry, and he knew better than to question it.

  Back upstairs, you and Yoongi curled up under the covers and tried to find something interesting enough to watch for what seemed to be ages, your head resting on his chest and his hands holding you securely by the waist. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep, and only then did he leave, pecking your forehead gently before jumping out the window.

  ||\\

  “Get in.”

  “No,” you tried to end the discussion then and there. As expected, you failed.

  “Y/N, you can’t go back on pinky promise. You should’ve thought this through.” His goal was to sound stern, but in reality you could see the hint of a pout on his lips. “It’s my birthday.” Okay, there it was. That was definitely a pout.

  “No,” you closed your eyes shut and facepalmed – for good measure. “Don’t give me those eyes, I’m not looking,” the sound was muffled by your hands.

  He wrapped his incredibly large fingers around your wrists and whined: “Come on, we’re already here. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Why on earth would you say that?” you instantly took your hands from your face and shot him a glare. He had the nerve to chuckle.

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this alone.”

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this at all,” you retorted, kicking the snow piled up near the curb, shunning away from his puppy dog eyes.

  “You promised you would! I’ll do it, Marzipan. If you win this round, I’ll get a tattoo with you as a birthday present,” his voice was high pitched.

  You snorted. “I was out of it, mental faculties completely fried. Drunk on power and merlot. Plus, I’m pretty sure you cheated, you could never beat me at Mario Kart,” you grumbled.

  “I did not cheat,” he was outraged. “I’m a lawful man, I abide by the rules, and they are clear: a bet is a bet.”

  You honestly have no idea why you let him talk you into this. Perhaps because you’ve been feeling guilty lately, and therefore didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he broke into your room to collect his victory this morning. It’s a good present, right? To get tattoos with your best friend? He had been trying to convince you since three birthdays ago. You hoped it would be enough to ease a bit of the weight on your chest.

  Truth is, you had been spending too much time with Yoongi these past few weeks. After what happened when he showed his face again, it became routine that he came by almost every night when your mom fell asleep. You’d talk, watch movies, kiss… But what you enjoyed the most were those moments where you curled up in his embrace, face buried in the crook of his neck, and neither of you would say a word. You’ve always appreciated peaceful silence, but those moments were so much more. You felt truly connected to him, in a way you’d never felt with anyone else. Like you were both pieces of the same puzzle, cheesy lines aside.

  Or when he would be the one to rest his head on your chest, blinking lazily as you twisted his silky, raven locks in your fingers. Perhaps those were truly your favorites, as you felt the incontrollable urge – need – to be protective of him, to never let anything disturb his serene, almost childlike countenance, so bare before you in the night’s veil. Before the sun came up and brought back the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

  During the day, you often returned to his safe haven – one that ultimately became yours, too. The waves breaking against the rocks, the salty breeze, the deep blue of the ocean, you had gotten acquainted to it all in a heartbeat. On occasion, you’d bring warm, fuzzy blankets, hot cocoa and books, spending an entire afternoon on your own personal eden.

  You never meant for any of it to get in the way of your friendship with Taehyung, but counterbalancing proved to be harder than you first thought. Although you may have gotten too caught up, inevitably distancing yourself a bit, you were now eager to make it up to him. He was like family, after all. So here you were.

  “Fine, have it your way. But I’m telling mom that you put me up to this,” you threatened. The snow under your boots making a crunchy noise while you crossed the street to get to the tattoo parlor.

  “She won’t believe you. I’m a saint. I’m her Taehyungie.” He was beaming.

  As soon as you got in, you saw a man sitting behind the counter. He was buff, and you’d bet that pretty much his whole body was covered in piercings and tattoos – mostly about dragons and snakes. Looks aside, his voice was warm and welcoming when he greeted you.

  “Welcome, kids. My name is Eli, how may I help you today?”

  All the drawings and pictures on the walls seemed to have detained Taehyung’s attention, so you plastered a polite smile on your face before answering.

  “Hi. My friend over here came to get a tattoo,” you pointed at the boy beside you and he scowled.

  “We both did,” he smiled at the receptionist.

  “Alright. You have to sign a couple of forms before we get into details. You’re both legal, right?” the receptionist asked and you nodded. “Peach. Just a second,” he turned his attention to the computer in front of him, taking a couple of papers from the printer soon after. He handled you each a consent form. Before you signed yours, you exchanged a look with Taehyung, almost having a whole conversation – bickering – with him through knowing looks.

  “Here you go,” Taehyung handed the papers to Eli.

  “Cool. Do you guys have something in mind? We have a few drafts you can check out. But if you already know what you want, Hyunjin can draw it when you get inside. Don’t worry, he’s good.”

  “I have something in mind,” Taehyung offered a bright boxy smile. “I guess I’ll just explain it to him, then.”

  “Great,” Eli turned his eyes to you, realizing that you definitely had not made up your mind just yet. “If that’s the case, I’ll let him know that you’re going in,” he said to Taehyung, who nodded in response. When the buffy man went to the back, he glared at you through narrowed eyes.

  “I’ll come back with permanent ink on my skin. You better not chicken out by the time I’m done,” he threatened.

  “Hope you don’t regret it within the year,” you taunted.

  “I won’t,” he snorted.

  Eli returned a second later, excusing himself to lead Taehyung to the tattoo artist. In the meantime, you picked a binder that was resting on top of the counter to take a look at the drawings he’d mentioned, hoping to find something you’d actually like – or at least an inspiration. Most of them were very intricate, and although they were beautiful, you wanted something simple. Less is more when you’re tainting your skin for life because of a bet.

  You were turning the pages with such disinterest that you almost missed it. It seemed unfinished, just a sketch, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason as to why it caught your attention in the first place. It was a dragon intertwined in a circle, it’s countenance exuding fierceness and strength. Inside the circle, however, was just an unembellished arrangement of lines, one that was strangely familiar and alluring. 9-7-1-12-6, if you think about a clock.

  “Oh, I see you’ve found Lee’s work. What do you think?” Eli pulled you out of your headspace.

  “Uhm… Yeah, he’s great. His drawings are pretty authentic.”

  “Uh huh, he’s been working on those for a while now. So, do you have any idea what you’re gonna get yet?”

  “Not really. I mean, I liked this one,” you pointed to the page you were previously analyzing. “Do you know if it means anything in particular?”

  “Yes! Actually, it does, but I can’t really remember what. I think it’s a sigil, though. You know, one of those thingies people believe to be magical.”

  “Mhm.” You really didn’t know why you felt the need to purge those next words, but you were saying them before you could stop yourself. “This is it.”

  “What? You’re gonna tattoo that?” Without even knowing what it means?

  “Yes. I liked the dragon.”

  ||\\

  His lips were soft against your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their wake when he moved them lazily to your jawline, wet little kisses making you squirm and sigh. His index finger was tracing patterns on your bare thigh, caressing and examining as if he’d never done it before, as if you were a made of glass. The sun had graced you with its appearance for the first time in weeks, and you wanted to enjoy the good weather as much as possible, so you had convinced Yoongi to lay on the grass by your side.

  “Tired of Miss Brontë already, love?” his velvety voice evinced his amusement.

  “Can’t read. You’re distracting me.”

  He chuckled lightly, delivering small puffs of air on the crook of your neck, and raised his head just enough to look at you, blocking the sunlight and making it possible for you open your eyes. Before he’d made his mission to disturb your concentration, you were reading for him, like people do with kids before they go to bed. It became a thing after the first time you did it, and now he picked a different book every week or so. When you’d asked about it, he just shrugged and declared that ‘It’s just nice. I like hearing you.’ This week, it was Wuthering Heights.

  “Continue, please,” he adjured, laying his head on your chest as a demonstration of good will. You grabbed the book you’d previously set aside and opened it, leaving one hand free to play with his locks.

  “That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least, for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped on the flags. In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image. The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.”

  His eyes were no longer closed, he was gazing at you.

  “Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

  “Heathcliff? I don’t.”

  He nodded slowly. “So, you think there’s no redemption, then?”

  “Not for him. He lived and died as an antagonist. Some might think his cruelty is just an expression of his frustrated love for Catherine, or that he conceals at least some virtue, a romantic heart. They expect him to be anything but what he constantly proves to be, they expect misunderstood heroes. But he himself acknowledges his sadistic nature.”

  He stood still, seeming to be lost in thoughts while tracing invisible patterns on your shoulder and refusing to meet your eyes.

  “Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?” he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

  “I’ve never had to,” you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you. “Hey,” you dig your nails gently on the nape of his neck, asking for his attention. When he raised his head, the wrinkle between his eyebrows was there again. It worried you that, since he’s been back, it’s been a constant feature of his. Every now and then, his face twisted into an inscrutable grimace. “You understand, don’t you?”

  A half-hearted nod was your response, and he built up the mask to conceal his discomfort once again.

  “Enough vitamin D for you? I can’t stand the heat,” he grumbled.

  “Yeah,” you chuckled, pressing your lips to his forehead and standing up, stretching a helping hand. “Where do you want to go?”

  “My place.”

  Which was code for: Your mom is home and I want to pass out on my bed nuzzling you.

  “Whatever you want, grandpa.”

  “Be a brat and I’ll hit the throttle,” he threatened, positioning himself on top of his Triumph. Sometimes he took full advantage of just how dreadful you found his two-wheeled vehicle. And it always worked. You snorted, climbing on the back seat and wrapping your arms around him. “Hold tight, George.” His warning was delivered with amusement, but you knew better than to take it lightly.

  The fifteen-minute trip went as smoothly as it could, and even though you’d made sure to keep your eyes closed, you still felt dizzy and light-headed when he parked into the old building’s garage. He sensed your distress and got off the motorcycle slowly, careful when untangling you’re your arms from his waist and never completely breaking physical contact.

  “Open your eyes,” he murmured, one hand on the small of your back and the other placed on your hip. You took a deep breath and your eyelids tentatively fluttered. His lips brushed your right cheek as he effortlessly lifted you and put you down on the floor, covering the entirety of your hand with his and making a beeline for the elevator.  

  Yoongi’s apartment was on the fourth floor, which happened to be the last one – the building was a small, fading-yellow rectangle in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. In a way, it suited him. Secluded and discreet. Perfect for a misanthrope such as himself, given that you’d never even bumped into one of his neighbors – and you’d been visiting quite regularly. On another note, however, it was uncannily unpretentious for someone like him.

  He stopped for a moment on the front door, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. As soon as he opened it, you made your way to the couch, crashing with a sigh, face buried in the cushion. A minute had passed before he plopped on top of you, compelling a puff of air out of your lungs. You grumbled something about manslaughter, but the sound was muffled. He ignored you, making himself comfortable by nuzzling your neck and taking off his shoes using only his feet. You chuckled, making an effort to turn on your back so you could catch a breath.

  “Sleepy?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. He hummed a response, content with your ministrations. “I, uh… have something to show you.”

  He raised his head from your throat, eyeing you curiously. “What is it?”

  “Bedroom,” you commanded.

  “Oh, I see,” he taunted, but stood up nonetheless. You rolled your eyes.

  You guided him to his room and closed the door behind you. He leisurely sat on the bed, waiting cautiously for you to proceed. You sucked in a deep breath, growing doubtful under his gaze. Pushing all insecurities aside, you unzipped your shorts.

  “Y/N, what are you doing?” he warned in a low-pitched, deep voice, orbs darkening considerably. You dismissed it, tiptoeing closer to him. He straightened his back and raised his eyes to meet yours, searching for any indication of what you intended to do. You pushed the waistband down, letting the piece of clothing pool on the floor, but he didn’t flinch, attention still focused on your features. When you hooked one finger on the hem of your white panties, he quickly snatched your wrist on a tight grip, brows knitting together. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, baby. You know that, right?”

  Your chest swelled with warmth and affection. After the night he came back, things heated up a couple of times. Once he’d realized how tense and anxious you got at first, he began to hold back, withstanding your advances. You never verbalized anything, but he had a hunch, and pressuring you was definitely not on his to-do list. He was being respectful and caring, and although you shouldn’t accept nothing less, it made you feel safe. He made you feel safe, always.

  “Let me show you,” you murmured, a soft smile blooming on your face. He seemed puzzled, but ended up nodding warily. When you moved your finger, slightly pushing the fabric down to expose your hip, he finally had the guts to jeopardize his restraint and look down. You didn’t know what you expected his reaction to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.

  His breath hitched and he paled, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. He didn’t move a single muscle, whole body tensing up. It was as if he couldn’t fully comprehend the sight before him, like he couldn’t believe. He composed himself soon enough, but you could still see the glint of shock in his eyes. It didn’t make any sense.

  “When did you get that?” his voice came out flat and a few octaves lower than usual.

  “A couple of weeks ago,” you frowned. The tattoo that marked your hip was now almost fully healed. You were doubtful in the beginning, but now you kind of grew fond of it. “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you know…” he cleared his throat, fingers twitching. “Do you know what it means?”

  “Not exactly,” you confessed sheepishly. “The tattoo artist said it was a religious symbol and… Truth be told, I’m not even sure why I did this. Just felt right,” you mumbled, realizing then that you probably sounded a tad out of it. You held your lip between your teeth, unsettled.

  “Yes. It’s the sigil of one of the seven archangels, love. It’s… Michael’s… sigil,” his jaw clenched, but his tone was now softer. “It’s used to invoke strength and protection. The ancients believed that, if you will it enough, he will be able to hear your prayers and, perhaps, be of assistance,” he laid his hand flat on your skin, stroking the symbol with his thumb, oblivious to the little jolts of electricity the simple gesture sent through your body. An unfamiliar mixture of dejection, despair and awe flashed through his onyx eyes, and you wondered what it was that he wasn’t telling you that could’ve possibly elicited such reaction.  

  “How do you know all that?” you wanted him to focus on something other than whatever it was that poisoned his thoughts.

  “Father taught me,” he shrugged.

  It’d been a while since he last mentioned his family. But you knew he was thinking about them whenever you saw the accentuated wrinkle every time he furrowed his brows, or when his muscles felt so tense to the touch that he was akin to marble against your skin. He was worried, he had been for a while now. And it scared you. You needed to know.

  “Yoongi…” the uncertainty that laced your tone made him squeeze your flesh encouragingly. “Where is he? Your dad.”

  “Home,” he stated tersely.

  “I know, but… Where is home? And what about your brothers? I know you said you don’t speak to them anymore, you just never explained why.”

  “We’ve already talked about this. They’re home, too. Y/N, just forget it,” he shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

  “Why do you build this wall between us every time? It’s frustrating. I can help-“

  “You can’t,” he deadpanned, breaking off any contact when he got up, making his way to the door. His demeanor screamed for you to back off, that he had no interest in continuing the conversation. But you were done being left in the dark.

  “Why is it so hard for you to trust me, huh?”

  “I already told you that it’s not a trust issue,” he raised his voice. “Why can’t you accept that I don’t want you to get caught up in the middle of my mess?”

  “Well, I am caught up in the middle of your mess!” you roared. “You were gone for an entire month and have been on edge ever since you got back. Something’s going on, I’m not stupid.”

  “Jesus Christ, Y/N,” a deep growl escaped his throat. “It’s none of your business, if we’re being honest here. They’re my problems, I’m the only one who can fix them – hell, not even that.”

  “If you could stop being such a jerk for a second, you’d realize that they became my problems, too, as soon as I fell in love with you. But you’re so far up your own ass that we can’t even discuss things without yelling at each other,” you spit the words. “Do you know what it’s like for me to watch you struggle like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders? Especially when my hands are tied,” you stepped closer to his figure, heart hammering on your chest after your little speech. It was nothing but a whisper when you said, “You’re not alone, you idiot.”

  His whole expression softened, and you could recognize a faint smile on his velvety lips. Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between the both of you and let his hand rest on the column of your neck.

  “I am an idiot,” he nodded, visibly calmer. “And you’re stubborn, you know that?”

  “Might have heard something about it,” you grumbled.

  He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

  “Maybe. Will you… I mean, I just wish you’d open up a little. I’m scared, Yoongi,” you confessed.

  “Me, too.”

  “I know. That’s why.”

  He shook his head and lowered it until his skin touched yours. “I’m scared of your reaction, baby. I don’t know if you’ll want me once you discover the truth,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

  “I’d say you’re safe. Unless your family is trying to coerce you into becoming a real life Michael Corleone. You didn’t shoot anyone in the head, did you?”

  He chuckled wholeheartedly and took a step back to maintain eye contact and mock you properly. “That’s your theory? That I’m a mobster?”

  You looked down sheepishly, before answering nonchalantly in a small voice, “One of them.” He couldn’t help himself, even though his hand was pressed tight against his mouth and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears of amusement. He tittered.

  “May I know the others?”

  “No,” you glared.

  “Oh, George, what if I ask nicely? What if I say please?”

  “Not even then.”

  “How about pretty please?” You shook your head, trying to pass through him to get to the kitchen, but he encircled his arms around you from behind before you could grasp the knob. “And what if I tell you that I am, too?” he breathed in the shell of your ear and you held your breath for a second. You didn’t need him to vocalize what you already knew, but you felt butterflies fluttering anyways. Still, you kept your ground, suddenly very conscious of the fact that your shorts were still pooled on the floor near the bed.

  “Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

  The loud bangs on the front door cut you midsentence. You felt Yoongi’s body stiffen before something that sounded terribly similar to a low growl broke out of his throat.

  “Get dressed and stay here,” he ordered, authoritative. He didn’t spare you a glance before exiting the bedroom, and you felt a dreadful feeling claw up your insides, piercing your gut and making you nauseous. Pulse thrumming viciously under your skin, you fetched your shorts and wiggled it up, fastening the belt with shaky hands. Stop overreacting, you told yourself over and over, growing more anxious by the second. You couldn’t understand why, to be honest.

  Taking deep breaths, you forced your fidgety fingers to stay still as you fell limp on the soft mattress, eyes closed. Your mind wandered to the safe haven: cotton clouds and baby blue sky, the smell of the grass, the books scattered around you and him. For a minute, you could truly take the edge off. Until you heard the noise of glass shattering on the wall.

  Getting off the bed as fast as you could, your head spun. You opened the door quietly, careful not to expose the presence of another person in the house, and made a beeline to the kitchen. While you looked franticly for something that could be useful as a weapon, you tried to stay attentive to the sounds. They were muffled, but you could discern at least two voices, apart from Yoongi’s.

  Alright. Great.

  As any sane person who’s watched more than a few movies would do, you went for the most obvious choice. Knives. Better safe than sorry.

  Almost counting your steps, you tiptoed your way to the living room. The voices were not very loud, but you could easily understand what was being said now that you were closer.

  “It’s imperative that you return with us now,” a dulcet, almost high-pitched voice uttered softly. “I am sure you are aware of your responsibilities. It’s time.”

  You stayed hidden behind the icy-white wall that separated the two rooms, gripping the hilt of the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Maybe you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, that was clearly a family matter. Maybe you should lock yourself in Yoongi’s bedroom and do as he said. But the truth was that you were far too curious – and now far too enchanted by the childlike voice – to stop yourself from prying.

  “I believe you have already forgotten about the current state of affairs, then? Father exempted me from my duties as soon as he banished me from the Gates and sent me to exile,” Yoongi spit. You could see it clearly in your head as he ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance. He sounded… different. You didn’t have the courage to tilt your head and steal a glance, afraid they’d catch the motion.

  “Father warned you about the consequences of your stubbornness, Michael, but you were very much unyielding in your misconceptions,” the second person said, gruffy and curt.

  “It is not a misconception to care for our own flesh and blood.”

  Wait. Michael? Had he been listening to your conversation earlier? If the man wasn’t so deadly serious and the air so dense, you would’ve laughed – although you felt that it was probably not the right time to let out a full-throated  guffaw to mask an anxiety attack.

  “Our own flesh and blood abused his role as a persecutor and bent the rules for his own selfish purposes. Azrael is fortunate if Father ever forgives him, albeit we both know he will. Brother, I know you hold the highest regards for truth and justice, but it was not your place to question an order.”

  You could hear the crude man pacing around the room as he spoke. Hoping to stay unnoticed, you sneaked a peek. The first person you landed eyes on was not at all taller than you, and you supposed that was the first man you’d heard. His hair was silvery, almost platinum blonde, styled in a way that evinced his beautiful forehead. The way he carried himself was elegant and graceful, like a ballerina, and his appearance suited his youthful voice perfectly. The second figure to catch your eye, though, was the complete opposite. Tall, lustrous olive skin and brown hair, he was intimidating at first glance. His steps were heavy on the floor, nearly clumsy.

  “Perhaps there lies the problem. We are never to question, even whilst we deem fit. Azrael is the embodiment of corruption and amorality; it’s consensual, we are well aware. No matter how devious, he is needed. Casting one of the Seven out ought to never be an option. Be that as it may… There are only five of us within the Gates now. Was I supposed to receive graciously the task of exiling our own brother?”

  You were growing considerably annoyed by their choice of words. Why the hell would they be talking like your great-grandparents? All cells in your body were telling you that it was supposed to be cringey, but in reality it was nothing but alluring. Charming. And that’s where all the annoyance came from.

  “It is unwise to go against His instructions. Are you a rebel at heart, Prince?” The man stopped his pacing to let the words tumble out of his mouth, venomous. You could tell by Yoongi’s countenance that he was about to lose his composure, and in a way you were yet to see. His body were trembling slightly in fury, and his lips were compressed together in a well-defined line. You were astounded, however, by his eyes. In that moment, you couldn’t move even if you intended to. They were tinted in a deep violet, just like you had seen before at Jin’s encounter, except that, this time, they hadn’t gone back to black.

  “This has nothing to do with the Rebellion, Raph-“

  “Then why disobey? Do you plan to defy Father as well? It would be entertaining to watch you fight your antithesis for the throne of the underworld,” he chuckled.

  It all happened in an instant, but for you it felt like slow motion. Yoongi was convulsing within himself, as if attempting to refrain a great deal of energy from breaking free. Once you saw blood oozing from his closed fists, you knew it was a lost battle. But never, ever, could you have foreseen what came next, what kind of energy – power – exactly he was trying to repress. For a very brief moment, everything stood still. If you had been able to avert your eyes from him, you’d see the silvery-hair figure shudder. You’d see the faint smirk on the lips of the man who caused Yoongi’s outburst, even though he was, deep down, a tad terrified. But you did not have time, nor will-power, to pay attention to anyone but him, ablaze amethysts shooting daggers at the man before them.

  Then everything came crashing down. Your beliefs, the world as you knew it, it was all taken away ruthless and abruptly once you saw white feathers rip through black shirt. You gasped audibly, falling to the floor with a dull thud as the knife clinked at your feet. None of them noticed, too entranced by the interaction that unrevealed itself. Yoongi got to his prey at an unhuman speed, grabbing him by the throat and caging him against the door. The horrid sound was enough to make you wince through your stupor, and, if it were anybody else, their skull would have cracked. The man, however, only clenched his jaw to suppress a whimper.

  “How dare you speak ill of your Leader like this?” as his voice went down a few octaves, Yoongi’s hold tightened visibly. The man-child seemed as ready to meddle as he would ever be, though still too frightened to actually move. “How dare you, brother, mention the Chief of the Heavenlies in the same breath as his nemesis? Mere one hundred and fifty years, Raphael, and you already built the temerity of being impertinent towards me? Or have you simply forgotten who I am?” his wings were whooshing, as if he was preparing to – quite literally – take flight at any given moment. They were stupendous, bigger than he himself, and so snowy-white, so untainted. Truly immaculate, contrasting with his raven hair.

  His angelic features, albeit glorious, could never outstand the magisterial way to which he spoke, imposing authority. Like he was born for it. Everything about him in that moment urged you to bow before his feet, and you weren’t even the one holding his darkened glare. It was entirely alien to you, a facet of him you could barely conceive, let alone process. Raphael undoubtedly recoiled at his words, but tried to conceal it.

  “Then show me. Do your title justice and lead us to victory, as I know there is no wrath nor passion greater than yours. Not for a moment have I forgotten who you are, Flaming Warrior, but you certainly have.” Raphael spoke, and it fell to the ears like a prayer.

  As Yoongi’s wings retracted once again, you breathed what seemed to be the first intake of air in hours. He slackened his grip on Raphael’s throat, who then bent over in a fit of coughing. The boyish man’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a sigh. Of course, the little truce was bound to be broken the minute one of them laid eyes on you. It happened to be the blonde.

  “Michael, there is a human on your floor,” he whispered, resembling a kid more than ever with his eyes wide open. “Why is there a human on your floor?” he snapped his head, shooting the question directly to Yoongi’s face, and you saw his body stiffen. “Oh, Father! She’s heard our names! Brother…”

  “Silent,” his voice was gruff, and he turned to scrutinize your figure. You weren’t sure of how you looked from the view of an outsider, but you felt… Shock, maybe? Fright? You didn’t know who and what was in front of you, and all you could think was how come his eyes are pitch black now?

  “Yoongi, we violated the law,” the man you now identified as Raphael said.

  “Namjoon,” his eyes never left you as he spoke, “take our brother home and certify yourself that he does not mention today’s events within the Gates.”

  “B-But the protocol-“

  “Does not apply to her, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi cut him off, “If you still need me to fight by your side, that is.”

   He seemed appalled by the perspective of that being an option. “Needless to say, brother, of course we do!”

  “That means I am in charge, then. So, at your superior’s orders, will you be able to keep this to yourself?” Yoongi craned his neck to glance at them through his peripheral vision.

  “If it is what you want, brother,” he mumbled, averting his gaze to the floor in respect.

  “Well, that being the case, I fear we might have to end this dreadful visit already. Notify our soldiers that I am to be expected soon.”

  “Yes, sir,” Raphael responded with a worried frown tainting his beautiful face. He touched the cherubic-like man on the shoulder and they both left the apartment.

  Yoongi’s feet were glued to the floor, the same spot he’d been standing since landing eyes on you. Your breathing was labored and hitched; your throat so dry that it felt like sandpaper. He took a little step forward, slowly stretching one hand in your direction. You let out a low whimper, recoiling until you were almost balled up, knees pressed tight against your chest. He immediately withdrew his arm and flinched.

  “I told you to stay in the bedroom.” His voice was flat, it wasn’t a scold.

  “W-What- What the hell just-“ a sob broke through your throat, and only then did you notice hot tears striking your cheeks. “Y-Yoongi,” you weren’t sure of what to say, let alone if you were actually able to choke a whole sentence out.

  “Are you afraid?”

  Yes.

  Fuck, yes.

  Were you afraid of him, though? Granted, his whole countenance while exerting power over someone else sent chills through down your spine. But that was not the man standing before you now, no.

  “Who are you?” you asked, trying too hard to keep a clear head.

  He straightened his back. “My true name is Michael,” he muttered.

  “You know that’s not what I asked,” you objected.

  “Yes,” he sighed, “I know. Can you keep an open mind?”

  “An open mind?” you scoffed. “I’m here, aren’t I? After seeing a pair of wings growing out of your shoulder blades.”

  “You are,” he chuckled humorlessly. He then walked tentatively in your direction, sitting on the floor as well when he deemed close enough. “I’m one of the Seven.”

  Your face twisted in confusion. Your brain was trying to deny what your subconscious already knew. “Go on.”

  “My brothers and I… we are one of Father’s first creations. Have you ever heard of the seven archangels, George?”

  “Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

  “It’s easier for you to understand, then. We are responsible for maintaining harmony in Heaven. That, occasionally, includes keeping things in order between the Gates and Earth,” he paused, searching for anything in your face that would require him to stop. “I am… let’s say, of great importance to keep the balance between our worlds, including the nether regions. You might have already gathered that I’m their leader, so to speak. I am in charge of all heavenly troupes, every single one of Father’s soldiers is under my command, as well as I am under His. In times of war, I am indispensable. That’s why they call me Warrior Prince; amongst other things.”

  “So it’s… all real?” your voice almost cracked. “Hell, heaven… God?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “Then why are you here?” you murmured under your breath and his expression darkened.

  “Immortality can make you petty. Do you remember meeting Azrael? I guess you know him as Jin. Azrael is… unique. Known as the Persecutor, he was the first reaper to ever exist – created before I was, even. He harvests human souls in due time and delivers them to a realm that suits them best. Paradise, Purgatory or Hell. My brother can be misunderstood very easily; his job has brought to the surface a sadistic persona. We all deal with evil from time to time, it was born in our home, but… Azrael is death, it’s a heavy burden to carry. Infinite lifetimes dealing with the worst sentiments a human can ever experience is bound to leave some scars. He can be mischievous and quite a pain in the ass, to be honest,” he huffed, “but his loyalty is admirable. So, when he made an egocentric mistake, Father reunited us all to discuss the best course of action. Much like a trial, if you will. The point is: they banished him to live amongst his… victims for a certain period of time. I could never agree to that, I believe every single one of the Seven serves a purpose, we are all needed to maintain natural balance.”

  “So you rebelled?”

  “No,” he scowled. “I’m not a rebel, I’m… a nonconformist.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “Not for us, it’s not.”

  “Okay. Then what happened?”

  “It’s a long story, if you want me to explain it correctly.”

  “I do. And you’re everlasting, so I bet we have some time to spare.”

  “Right,” he snorted. “My people is a bit traumatized when it comes to defiance, you probably know why.”

  “Because of the devil, right?”

  “Lucifer deeply despises all of his nicknames. But yeah, he’s the reason. A very long time ago, Father decided to expand our family. My brothers and I were content, but when He presented the idea of more… more of us, more love, we agreed on the spot. See, He was never, ever, the tyrant your kind makes him to be. Until Lucifer, that is. He was… exquisite, my brother. From his birth, each and every angel to exist used to say that Father got inspired by me when creating him, but in a very distinctive way. As much as possible, we were the flip side of each other, although extremely similar still, if that makes sense. With time, our bond grew stronger; we became inseparable. Almost everything we did was in each other’s company: from training in the fields to reading manuscripts under the sunlight. My brothers and I didn’t have much to worry about, it was a very peaceful existence. We had not come to know sin yet.

   Needless to say, it did not last. Because we were oddly alike and yet so different, comparisons were nearly inevitable. I didn’t mind them back then, so I thought he would never take it to the heart either. I was wrong. Lucifer distanced himself slowly but surely, and with each passing day, he tried harder to triumph over me in a childish competition, one that existed strictly in his head. He’d become resentful, and his animosity soon spread like wildfire towards the others, too. None of us were able to comprehend a feeling we had never experienced ourselves, so it took us years to make sense of the situation. By the time we did… I guess it was already too late.

   When Father created your kind, the hierarchy became even more apparent: only us, the archangels, were allowed to interact with humans – even so, only to a certain degree and always serving a purpose. Father wished your… species to stay untouched by our graces. Masterpieces, as long as kept apart, he had said. You see, your people got it terribly wrong. Lucifer was never jealous of humans – in fact, he holds deep contempt for them. He was jealous of us, of me, because my new responsibilities evinced that we had different roles on the chain of command. If rancor was his first sin, fury came to be the second. He endeavored to make a point of how unfair it was of Father to ‘play favorites’ and provide the Seven with greater might. My brother was a very shrewd, intelligent being, but his envy made him blind to a lot of things.

  Lucifer used the following years to spread his beliefs right under our noses, and therefore was able to gather a herd of angels who succumbed to blatant lies just as much as he did. That was the beginning of the rebellion. His ability to lead was remarkable, but he could never be a true leader – not that he intended to, anyway. The reason is pretty obvious: my brother did not care the least about those under his directions, they were means to an end. His main goal was to dethrone the Seven, and for that he forged a deadly weapon: the flaming sword. The uprising initiated a war that none of us were ready for, not even him. For seven days, we fought. For seven days, we continuously killed our own. I suppose you already know the end to that story.”

   You were so fascinated by his narrative that you’d already forgotten the reason he brought up the subject.

  “I think so,” you said. “The real thing is actually so… different from everything I’ve ever heard.”

  “I know. Tales never accomplish the whole truth.”

  “But what does that have to do with the reason you’re here?”

  “Like I said, my kind does not tolerate defiance after everything that happened. When Azrael was sentenced, I didn’t exactly make an effort to hide how I felt about it. They didn’t take it very well, so if you ask any of them why I was exiled, they’ll say it was for disobedience. When, in fact, it was because I reminded them too much of him,” he sighed, and you both fall into a pregnant pause. “How are you taking this?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t have enough time to process yet.”

  “I know,” he twisted a strand of your hair in his slender index finger.

  All of a sudden, a realization fell heavy on your heart.

  “Is your time up?”

  His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

  “Yeah. You said you’d stay here… for a predetermined amount of time. Is that why they came to get you?”

  “No, George,” he let out a puff of air from his nose, “that’s not why they came for me.”

  “Then why?”

  “Think about it. Why would they need their General for?”

  You shook your head, trying to make sense of what he was telling you. Oh.

  “You said you were indispensable in times of…” your whisper faded to an end.

  “War,” he completed.

    ||\\

                                                                                                                                  “While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

      There was a thin layer of snow covering the streets once again. The friction between the tires and the asphalt was barely there, and if the circumstances were different, that would be your main concern. The wind howled as you cut through it like bullets, and you tightened your embrace around his waist, somehow enjoying the numbing air of a cold late-afternoon. Eyes wide opened this time. When he finally parked in front of the porch, you quickly hopped down and took the helmet off, placing it in the seat you had previously taken. Before you could say or do anything, Yoongi seized your wrist with a leather-gloved hand.

  “I’m positively opposed to this,” he blurted in a last attempt to change your mind.

  “I know.” You tried to free yourself from his iron grasp, but to no avail. It was getting easier to read his features, and you could tell he was still unsure. But you were not. “Yoongi, it’s my call.”

  “Don’t I have a say in it?”

  “Ultimately… no.”

  “Want you to be safe, that’s all. Let us be reasonable about this, why don’t you?”

  “I thought you understood better than anyone that I don’t get to be reasonable about this,” you sighed with impatience. “Please, I—”

  “Okay,” he loosened his grip. “I’ll wait here.”

  “Okay.”

  The light was off in the living room, your mother wasn’t home yet. You told yourself that it was better this way. Making a beeline to the stairs, you went over the little list in your head once again before entering your bedroom.

  Set of clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, laptop… What else?

  You looked around, the baby-blue walls somehow mocking you, an excruciating reminder of simpler times. Memories of your childhood swirled inside your mind. All the times you and Taehyung would play hide and seek, the squeals he’d let out whenever you caught him off guard, how he was certainly faster than you, but would let you win a childish race every now and then. The familiar scent of caramel and coffee roaming around the house in the wee small hours of the morning after movie nights, your mom’s chocolate chip pancakes for lunch on Sundays. It all felt like a lifetime ago.

  Hauling your backpack across your shoulder, you had a weird feeling that that was it. That was goodbye. Although Yoongi had promised you’d be back safe and sound in a couple of days, you knew things could go wrong. It was a pondered decision; you were aware of the risks, he’d made sure of it. Still, leaving his side when there was a real possibility that he might not get out alive was just… not conceivable. Logically, you understood that, if things went south, you would not be able to do much. You did not care much for logic these days, anyway.

                                     [Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

  Stepping out of the room and shutting the door as quietly as possible—for no apparent reason—you hopped downstairs two steps at a time, making sure to avoid staring at other parts of the house that could trigger another episode of nostalgia. Too focused on the task of trying not to focus, you missed the six feet tall barricade blocking the entrance to the living room, crashing into it face-first. If it wasn’t for the unrelenting grip keeping you in place, you would’ve certainly hit the floor.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the flat baritone voice resonated throughout the empty space.  

  Of course. You closed your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before even contemplating lifting your head to make eye contact.

  “Do you need something?” in a poor attempt to shield yourself, you parroted his dead intonation.

  “Do I need something,” he hummed. Then he chuckled, fists clenching around your forearms. “Are you leaving?” he spat. “What about your mom, huh?”

  “It’s just a couple of days. I’ll call her.”

  By the scowl plastered on his face, your dismissive attitude hadn’t worked the way you planned it to. You had to do this quick, like ripping off a bandage. If anyone could give you a run for your money in this situation, that would be Taehyung. You knew he’d try to persuade you into staying, so you couldn’t risk it. For both your sakes.

  “I see,” he remarked. “Were you planning to tell me you’re running off with your boyfriend or you’d just leave me to figure it out on my own?”

  His venomous words burned out of his mouth at lightning speed, tainting his tongue with a pungent aftertaste.

  “You know I would never do something like that,” the hurt that laced your voice was evident, but, maybe for the first time, it didn’t make him feel half as bad as it should.

  “Do I?” he scoffed. “For the past few months, it feels like you’ve already left. Wouldn’t make much of a difference if you actually did, I guess.”

  That did it. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you were determined to not let them fall.

  “Okay, I’m not doing this,” you whispered, not trusting your voice enough to speak properly, and pulled your arms out of his grasp roughly. You darted for the closed front door, feeling sick to your stomach at the thought of spending another minute inside the house. He clutched your shirt tightly, as if it was a lifeboat.

  “Wait,” his fists clenched tighter. You could sense him getting closer, but you didn’t have the guts to turn around and face him just yet. He buried his face on your right shoulder, holding your hip now, nails bound to leave little crescent moons on your skin. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “I hate this.”

  Your heart ached. You hated it, too. Pushing Taehyung away was never your intention, but you finally came to understand all the times Yoongi had kept a safe distance before. To keep you safe. You couldn’t risk it, not with Marzipan.

  “It’s fine, Tae.”

  “It’s not,” he shook his head, brushing his nose on the fabric of your blouse. Inhaling deeply, he moved to the nape of your neck. You shuddered. “None of this is fine,” a peck on the bare skin of your neck, and your entire body tensed.

  “Taehyung…” you warned.

  “Don’t,” he begged, turning you around. You were adamant on avoiding his gaze, so your eyes kept darting between your feet and your hands. “Don’t go.”

  While he rested his forehead on yours, one hand on your cheek and the other thumbing your collarbone, you knew what was about to happen. You knew, and, still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You knew, but it was Taehyung, your best friend. Marzipan, the little boy from the house next door. Boxy smile, disheveled hair, sweet-toothed Taehyung. How wrong could it be? You were saying goodbye to a part of your own soul. How wrong could it be?

  When his lips touched yours, soft and ravenous, you really wanted it to feel right. But the answer to your previous question was: too wrong. You loved him, yes. But he wasn’t him. Didn’t taste the same, didn’t feel the same. His movements weren’t slow yet demanding, his hand wasn’t drawing invisible patterns on your lower back, his smell wasn’t musky enough. It just didn’t feel right.

  “Tae,” you tried to end the kiss, but he led his mouth back to yours like in a trance, nibling on your lower lip. “Taehyung, stop!”

  By the end of it, you were both panting. It dawned you how big of a mistake you had just made, and guilt made you nauseous. Neither of them deserved what you’d just done, neither of them deserved to have their hearts broken because you were such a fuck up.

  “I-I’m so sorry, Tae,” your voice cracked. He was about to answer, but you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t breathe, your skin was on fire and there was a big, nasty lump in your throat. You bolted out the door, only to be met with Yoongi’s inquiring gaze. It seemed to have broken a damn, and heavy tears tumbled down your cheeks. He rushed to meet you halfway, brushing the tears away as soon as his hands reached your face.

  “Hey,” he shushed you. “What happened, baby?”

  “Can we go home, please?”

 The crease between his furrowed eyebrows deepened, but still, he chose not to pry any further.

  “Of course, love. Of course we can,” he softly muttered, although still hesitant to take his hands off you.

  You climbed onto the familiar grey motorcycle and hid your damped cheeks on his jacket. The beast rumbled, gaining speed as you cut through the air. The ghost of Taehyung’s lips on yours haunting you the entire way back.

[twilightdruig]

waterloo

pairing/s: ron weasley x fem!reader

summary: (part 1 of mamma mia! series) y/n wants to travel the world, search for her own destiny. but here she was, in france spending time with an attractive ginger-headed man and ends up taking him taking her to lunch and her taking his virginity.

warnings: mamma mia!au, muggle!au, alludes to sex, reader has mommy issues

words: 1.1k

a/n: fleur in this has the role of rosie but acts like tanya and vice versa to dawn (my oc). i copied a bunch of lines from the mamma mia script. there will be multiple parts to this series btw :)

“she didn’t come. she didn’t come! my mother. can you believe she didn’t come!?” y/n exclaimed frustratedly, then sighed “she never comes and every time, it surprises me.” y/n was completely and utterly pissed her mother didn’t attend her graduation. 7 whole years of her life wanting to make her mother proud and she doesn’t even bother to see. “i am not going home. not for a long time.”

“ah the old ‘stay away as punishment’ ploy.” fleur, one of y/n’s best — sister-like friends giggled. the three newly grads were sitting on the balcony of y/n’s flat talking about their future, past, and basically anything that comes to mind.

“i tried that, but my parents just rented out my room… and sold my dog” dawn interjected, waving a lazy finger in the air.

“no, it’s not a punishment. it’s the opposite. like a gift to myself!” y/n jabbered with crazy hand gestures.

“where will you go?” fleur queried and raised an eyebrow.

“anywhere — everywhere!” y/n gushed as she drank more of her butterbeer “life is short, the world is wide and… i want to make some memories!”

“in other words, you’re leaving us” dawn voiced.

“oh” fleur faltered.

“hey! no, most definitely not! you both know i never would” y/n chided “we’ll always have each other! i’m just putting out something for our future”

she chuckled, trying to clear the air “come on”. she dragged the two girls inside to pack up her things for her ‘adventure to search for destiny’

—

y/n was here. she was in france! she wandered around the city dragging her trunk and looking for a place to stay.

she found herself in an unattended lobby wanting to ask for a room. she rang the desk bell a few times, no one came to accommodate her. she decided to just take a key or wander around behind the desk.

“uh, excusez moi?” a man’s voice stuttered behind her, she gasped.

“oh, bonjour, mademoiselle.” she found a young ginger man with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“um... uh, je suis locked out de ma chambre.” he stammered once again.

“oh, i don't... uh, je, um... put my tray out, uh, dans le corridor, mais, uh, malheureusement quand je, um... turned back, uh, la porte était fermée.” he tried speaking french again.

“et maintenant, j-je need une, uh, uh... uh, spare key, uh, uh, pour, uh, reentrer dans la chambre.” he babbled.

“s'il vous plaît, mademoiselle.” he finally finished his nervous rant.

“sorry? i didn’t quite understand. could you say all that again?” he prodded down the stairs to talk to her face-to-face.

“oui. je suis — hold on one second.” he sputtered, face contorted into confusion.

“i don’t work here. although, my friend fleur is very good at french.” y/n giggled, eyes crinkling.

“well… i should call the police?” he began to pick up the phone.

“i’d rather you don’t” she sets the phone down.

“they probably wouldn’t understand my french anyway” he sighed and looked down, remembering he was still technically undressed

“uh, ron. ron weasley” he offered his hand out to shake.

“y/n. l/n.” she gestured back and smiled.

“would you wanna, maybe, go out for lunch?” he added “maybe after i get back in my room though” he gestured to his state, half naked, towel wrapped around his waist.

“yes, yes. of course” she laughed.

—

“so ronald,” the two were laughing and walking around the notre dame, the eiffel tower and other tourist spots they ended up in “you used to work as a policeman?”

“yes. i’m afraid so. my father more or less got me the job. me and my best friend actually” he sighed, looking into the distance “i guess, we’re fulfilling our destinies”

she sighed as well “i’m searching for mine. i have this feeling it’s in greece.”

“greece? really? why greece?” he turned to look at her this time.

“i’ll find out when i get there. i’m leaving tomorrow” she avoided his eyes.

“tomorrow? already?” he tried to hide the disappointment in his voice while also avoiding eye contact.

she nodded.

“right. better move fast.”

when the two of them fell into comfortable silence, ron breaks it between them again.

“um, would you mind carrying your bag on the other side?”

“uh, sure… why?”

“well, 'cause — the hand nearest me would fall straight down, and mine could sort of brush against it.” he admitted “and then i could take your hand in mine in a totally natural and spontaneous way.”

“you could literally could’ve just asked to hold my hand” she teased.

“yes, of course — of course. that was plan b” he stammered for the god knows how many times today.

“you’re a massive stutterer aren’t you” she teased.

“well, i get that a lot.” he shakes his (probably) beet red face in embarrassment

—

they found themselves in a dainty little restaurant near the eiffel tower.

“it’s not just greece generally, it’s a specific place,” she paused “at the far end, there’s an island, kalokairi. and people used to think if you sailed on from there, you’d fall off the edge of the world! that genuinely sounds like the place for me” she could go on and on about it but she figured maybe this attractive man sitting opposite from her wouldn’t be so interested.

“o-of course. absolutely. yes.” he awkwardly smiled “um, but now, maybe? maybe… we could change the subject? a little bit? and maybe talk about the pros and cons of spending the night together?”

“wow! okay! slow down there, loverboy” she chuckled “bold move” she bit off a piece of bread and pointed to him.

“because, from my point of view, i mean, it kinda seems to be pretty much all upside wi-with very little reason not to just get on with it straight.”

“hm… my family don't really react well to foreign romances. years ago, my mum was in central america, and she had her heart broken into a million little pieces.” she slightly exaggerates.

“right… yeah, fair enough. i’m sure you’re correct.”

“mm-hmm”

“although, there’s one more reason though. you'd be doing me a huge favor because... yeah, this — this would be my first time.” ron has been admitting quite a lot to a stranger he’s only met, y/n thought.

she snorts at this, she may have thought it was adorable though.

“you’re kidding!”

“no… it’s actually a thing i do… to-to make me look cool. no, i’m not kidding”

“ron,” she goes to reach for his hand from across the table “we just met today.”

“yes but — when you know, you know. when you fall, you fall. and when you’re defeated by love, you’re utterly defeated.”

this was the first time y/n has blushed this hard in a long, long time.

—

y/n ended up agreeing to ron’s little proposal. and that was the reason she was in this young man’s bed cradling him at her side.

“that was the absolute best thing that’s ever happened to me” ron gasped “but it’s been a crazy but good life, you know? full of happy things, but… that was the best of them”

when she didn’t respond, ron felt the need to converse more with her about the events that has just happened.

“did you enjoy..? no, don’t answer that… but did you?” he looked up from where he was being cuddled.

“it was lovely” in all honesty this boy lasted quite long for his first time, she was impressed.

“thank you” he got the validation he needed from this beautiful woman he’s only met today.

“no, thank you” she objected before the two dozed off.

[mammoney-honey]

Summoning Circles: What to Offer the Brothers GN!MC

MC doesn’t need to set up anything to summon them since they have their pact but sometimes its just nice to add a bit of drama. It’s also a good way to get the brothers to accept Just Because gifts. So what would would MC lay out as an offering for their favorite demon in their pentagram?

Lucifer

Lucifer is hard to get gifts for because hes a man of few words and fewer guilty pleasures

MC does their best to keep an eye out for things he does like and finally sets things up when they feel that Luci needs a bit of a break

They mostly offer things that would make for a good date night but with one small exception: special gourmet dog treats 

He won’t admit it, he says Cerberus is just a well trained guard dog, but that big boy gets only the best and MC knows that Lucifer will appreciate the gesture

The rest is all about setting the mood so Lucifer couldn’t possibly say no to staying

The first thing to accomplish this is the finest bottle of hellfire aged wine, a special request put through to Diavolo for whatever he thought Lucifer would like most

And to accompany a good drink you need some good food as well. A charcuterie board supplied with recommendations from Barbatos and Luke. The little guy should be called a mouse rather than a dog with how much he loves cheese. It took a long time for him to stop talking about it

One of the things that MC looks most fondly on of their time with Lucifer was quiet nights in listening and dancing to new music. They didn’t always share the same tastes but they were always willing to give it a go

So MC would find a vinyl, the only thing Lucifer would listen to the purest that he is, of their most recent favorite song or band so that they could share it with him

The last thing offered is that which Lucifer would want above all else as his own, MC

They can think of nothing else that would gain Lucifer’s attention more than offering their full and complete self. His pride could never allow him to deny taking MC when they offer themselves so willingly

He appears in full demon form, he can’t think of who would be ballsy enough to try and summon him and he has to pull back on his full power once he sees its MC

“MC, my dearest love, the pageantry is appreciated but overall unneeded. All you ever have to do is call my name, all I wish is to hear my name on your lips. But now that I’m here lets make sure you are screaming it”

Mammon

He is another one who is hard to gift things to but for the opposite reason as Lucifer. He likes too many things, wants everything and so it makes it impossible to tell what would actually mean something to him

MC tries their best to lay out things that will show how much they love and appreciate their favorite demon

Money of course is the first thing that is set out but not just spare Grimm or human cash

No, MC will put gift cards out for Mammon’s favorite places or for a date that they can have together. It feels more personal that way and they hope it shows that they pay attention to the things he likes

Mammon has a wardrobe to rival Asmo’s but he insists that it all has to do with his job as a model. Gotta keep up appearances and all that yanno. Hes just a label whore though and everyone knows it

He also just melts at the idea that MC might be thinking of what he would look good in so if they put out a new outfit or accessory, even if its just new sunglasses or a belt, he just about explodes

He will scoff and say that hes not sure if human styles are really his thing but of course puts whatever it is on quickly

Next would be a very special edition of the TSL dvds, a directors cut that even Levi couldn’t get his hands on. He has watched it with MC so many times he could practically recite it but they were always borrowing from Levi so it was about time to start wearing out their own copy

The last two things are more personal, something that shows just how much MC thinks of and misses being with him

The first of that is MC’s favorite set of pictures they took with Mammon, a silly photo booth strip that captured their first kiss. MC had surprised him on the first snapshot and it showed a progression of him getting redder and redder before finally kissing them back

Lastly is a page from their diary, as intimate an offering as they can possibly give. Its from a day where the longing for Mammon was at its strongest and filled with sweet words of how much they miss their first man

Mammon is freaked out at first thinking he is being summoned by another witch and is confused to see MC before taking it all in

“H-hey you don’t have to go through all this. I mean of course The Great Mammon won’t say no to the the things he deserves but ... b-but you only ever need to say my name, there is no where I’d rather be than with you”

Levi

Levi has a bad habit of just buying whatever he wants but considering that he has so many fandom’s its not hard to find some piece or another he doesn’t have 

MC feels like his brothers don’t give much thought to his gifts though, just typing in a name they know and getting whatever they find. They want to give him something more personal and can’t just be bought and shipped in two days

MC starts to watch a lot of craft, cooking and cosplay YouTubers to try and put everything together themselves. It felt more genuine that way at least to them

MC tries to keep things diverse, hitting a couple of Levi’s favorites but mostly avoiding anything Ruri related since they are afraid of messing it up lmao

Instead they focus on the anime’s and games that they watched and played together. Almost like a collection of inside jokes that they are using to summon him

The first thing MC sets out is a prettily decorated plate of macrons, doing their best to replicate the colors and flavors described in the one bakery time management game they always played

MC also went through Levi’s super secret fanfiction accounts I will fight you he is totally a fic writer because he has so many self inserts and fix it fics  and wrote out comments for every single thing he had written. They printed them out not because they didn’t think he read them but to show that they were the ones that left them

Along with the comments MC also created art for Levi’s most beloved OC, creating cute enamel pins of them in chibi form with the cannon character he paired them with

 The last two things came as a sort of combo, a couples cosplay from the romance anime they had watched together. The protagonist had been a shut in otaku who had found his soulmate when they were reborn into his world and Levi had latched onto him immediately 

It had taken a lot of blood sweat and tears trying to get both of the outfits cannon perfect but damn it MC was not going to settle for anything less

At one point they forgot they were making it for Levi and just got caught up in the the drama that was finding the perfect buttons and trim color

Overall they were so proud of the sewing skills they just wanted to call on him the moment they were done so he could see but they got a hold of themselves so they could set up what they had planned

Levi was summoned into the circle still wearing his headset and fingers tapping at a controller that had been left behind

His demon side comes out at having been cost a serious match from the sounds of it but his anger turns to confusion at seeing MC and then into wide eyed amazement at all of the things in front of him

He started to gush about every single thing he saw before he realized that MC was there beaming at him 

“You went through all this trouble to prove that you aren’t a normie and yet you summon me this way?? J-just say my name like you’re supposed to! I kind of like hearing you say it anyway ...”

Satan

Satan surprisingly doesn’t like being the center of attention and thus doesn’t really like surprises or receiving gifts. He also doubts that anyone understands him enough to give him what he wants cocky ass that he is

The idea for the things to set out in his summoning circle came to MC when discussing love potions with Satan and Solomon one day. They were talking about how smell plays such a strong part and Satan let slip some of the things he might smell after MC listed some of theirs

So while MC doesn’t have much, well any, experience in magic or potions they do want to try to stir up those feelings those smells produce in Satan

The first thing he had said came as a surprise to no one, the smell of parchment and ink

MC used each of them as their own separate offering on the pentagram. They used a fancy new calligraphy quill dipped in green ink that matched his eyes to write a long love note for him

The ink was still wet on the parchment that they set down and left the quill and remaining ink as the second gift

The next thing he mentioned was another one MC expected: tea leaves

So MC just walked into their local tea shop and let their nose lead the way. Anything that caught their attention or made them want to keep smelling they bought, creating their own special blend just for Satan

It wasn’t necessarily something that Satan would say for himself but MC had started to burn different candles in their room when he would come to rant when he was angry, trying to find a scent that he could associate with being calm when they helped him work through the anger

Whatever candle seemed to work the best is the candle that MC sets out for him. Probably something woodsy, pine or balsam or even sandalwood. It brings back good memories for MC, kissing all those worries of his away and hopes it does the same

The last item is one that made MC blush when they heard Satan admit it, he had liked the scent of their shampoo

He hadn’t said that specifically but he had closed his eyes and described a scent that he couldnt place but that he adored and when MC was taking their shower that night it clicked 

It might have been a little lame, leaving a bottle of shampoo out for Satan but MC knew that when he realized what that scent he loved so much was that he would get the cutest blush

They weren’t disappointed when they summoned Satan. He hid his shock of being summoned this way well, taking his time to walk around the circle and examine each offering. He immediately knew where they had gotten the inspiration and teased them about being such a sap

He stopped when he got to the shampoo though, not sure how that fit into the equation until he smelled it. It dawned on him and there was that blush that he tried to hide by turning his face away

“You always did like to make things difficult on yourself didn’t you? I’m only ever a call away for you kitten. Now come here and let me really breath you in, you’re simply intoxicating to me and I can’t stay away.”

Asmo

Asmo is never shy about when he doesn’t like gifts that people have given him but he has only ever cherished what MC has gotten him. Every small trinket and gift he has on full display in his room and he will wear something that MC got them when he misses them the most

He also will do it when he wants to bother his brothers and show off that MC simply lavished him in gifts (Mammon and Levi are the only ones who fall for it lmao)

So MC decides to offer Asmo things that will allow him to parade around their love for him, things to keep them close when MC isn’t there

The first thing that MC gets Asmo is new nail polish, a color that they agonized over finding because they wanted it to match his eyes perfectly

Asmo has a very organized planner, its how he keeps track of all the events he is invited to, when he has dates, who hes slept with, who hes going to sleep with and everything in between

MC commissions custom made stickers for him so he can decorate the pages of his planner even more. Specifically a whole sheet of cute stickers of them together he could use for when they planned date nights

The next thing was something for Asmo’s room which he was always changing and refreshing so it looked forever interesting for Devilgram pics

MC gets a large print of Asmo’s favorite picture of them together and puts it in a beautiful frame that perfectly matched his favorite decorating style. Perfect to show to the world that Asmo was their favorite demon and that they looked so good together

And so they can take even more pictures of themselves together MC buys a Polaroid camera for Asmo. His phone will always be his favorite thing to take pics on but this way they could have them printed instantly and it continues to let him be trendy

Lastly MC gets Asmo a necklace. A dainty rose gold chain that he can wear with practically everything and with a diamond accented heart shaped locket that could easily be tucked away if needed. It was an enchanted locket, thanks to the help of Solomon, and it warmed when MC was thinking of him

Its the first thing Asmo grabs and quickly puts on, showing it off for MC

“Oh MC you are simply the cutest thing I have ever seen~ I’m sorry I don’t have something to give you in return. I hope the fact that my heart beats only for you will make up for it, now come here I’ve been without kisses too long.”

Beel

Its SO hard not to just grab whatever is in the kitchen at the time and throw it in the summoning circle and call it a day for Beel

But he is more than just his hunger and MC is always striving to show him that they understand that 

It was harder than expected, just because asking anyone what Beel might want always got them food answers. They thought Belphie might be helpful but only got told “he probably just wants a nap ... its what I would want”

MC starts to think of all the most special moments they had with Beel, trying to think what about them made them so memorable and they knew for a fact that it wasn’t the food

The first thing they come up with is a banner that MC made to cheer him on at one of his games. It had gotten a little tattered and torn because it had rained that day but they just couldn’t let it go

Mostly because Beel after winning had ran up into the stands and kissed them for the first time. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t ever kissed but they had always been the one to make the first move but this time Beel had come to them. Of course in the biggest gesture possible

It was cheating a little bit offering a cookbook, it was still food related, but it felt better than putting in actual food 

This particular cookbook was special to MC too, they had spent several months trying to recreate one of the recipes from it down in the Devildom when MC didn’t have it. Even their D.D.D had been no help in finding the human world dish they were trying so hard to recreate

It had finally been Beel who had found someplace that sold the food they had been craving. He had even been able to bring it back completely untouched just so that they could have it all though he didn’t complain when they offered him several bites from their fork

MC pulls the next thing from their own shelves at home, a well read copy of Lord of the Flies. The spine cracked and little notes about their favorite parts scribbled in the margin

It was one of the human novels that Satan had and one of MCs favorites from school. Beel had caught them reading it and thought the title was ironic but the more he watched MC get engrossed in reading the more curious he got

He eventually asked MC to read it to him, he actually liked books even if most didn’t take him for the type it was just that he had a hard time actually reading himself. He always got distracted by food but audio books always worked well for him when he was working out, it turned out to be even better when MC read to him when he was eating

It was the best of both worlds for him and he found the story actually pretty funny, slightly worrying MC but they figured they couldn’t blame a demon for getting enjoyment out of a story like that. He did find their lack of food concerning though so at least there was that

One of the things that Beel often complained about when MC was living in the devildom was that when he went to go eat they weren’t always there. Sure Beel would ask them to tag along whenever possible but it didn’t always happen. He would call them from the kitchen at times and tell them that he missed them

MC was sure the other brothers would have something to say about it but knew that Beel would genuinely enjoy the next thing MC offered. Amagnet with his favorite picture of them. It was MC caught in a candid he took, mid bite in a dessert he had made them and his hand could just be seen wiping some whipped cream off MC’s cheek

It was a way that Beel could have MC with him at his favorite place every time

The last thing that MC laid out was something that was inspired by Beel. He had once given them a coupon for a free meal by him and they had thought it was just about the cutest thing ever

They made him a whole coupon book of favors ranging from cooking any meal he wanted to recording his workouts for him and of course lots of coupons for hugs and kisses

Beel isn’t used to being summoned at all so hes slightly disoriented when he finds himself suddenly in the human world. As soon as he sees MC though its nothing but smiles and he doesn’t even notice the gifts until after

“MC did you know I was thinking about you? Sometimes I just say your name and hope you will appear ... so if you ever think of me just say my name. I want to be here, even if its during dinner” 

Belphie

Belphie is not one to beat around the bush at all. He is a creature of habit and just wants more of the same things that he already has. Dont fix something if its not broke right?

So its fairly easy to fill his summoning circle with things that he loves, just adding to his ever growing collection of happy nap time things

That isn’t to say that MC just grabs whatever blanket or pillows they have laying around, they still want it to be special for him

So yes the first two things they offer to Belphie is a pillow and blanket, there was never going to be anything else but MC spent a long time putting their love into finding just the right ones for him ... and still couldn’t find what they wanted

MC used this as an excuse to create something themselves for their sleepy boy. They dived deep into youtube and pintrest and spent more money than they care to admit on materials until finally they made what they wanted

The first was a quilt large enough for three cause the twins like to make MC a sandwich in a cow print pattern that matched his pillow and demon form marks, lined with the softest fabric she could find that was the same purple as his eyes 

His pillow was another quilted design, this time of a cloudy night sky with a sleepy cow jumping over the moon. MC stitched his name in pretty gold thread on the back long with a sweet ‘I love you’

There was one last fluffy thing to give to him, this one MC knew he would probably scoff and tease them about but they couldn’t help it. They saw the angry looking cow plushie and just could not walk away 

They have actually been sleeping with it when they miss him most and even if he doesn’t like the plushie the fact they have slept with it so much will make him a bit fonder of it

Even though they were pretty sure that Belphie knew every star in the sky MC couldn’t help but get a book with stories about the constellations. He might already know them all but they thought that he might still enjoy hearing them read to him as he drifted to sleep

The last thing MC has to offer him is also star related. A star map of the day that they made their pact. It was the day that MC had fully forgiven everything that had happened before and their relationship had truly began

When Belphie was summoned he was half asleep but knew who it must be even in his sluggish state. He gave a big yawn and looked around at all the things around him 

“At least things are already set up for the perfect nap, including having you. MC next time just say my name alright? Its much more of a drag this way ... and I want to know when you are dreaming of me”

[trashballerina]

Hetalia Fics I Really Like

this  ⭐ will be for fics I really like. I’ll try not to star everything.

I’m starting with my favorite of all time and tbh I think the fandom should see this fic as a OG, like Auf Weiderstein Sweetheart or Gutters, I really do.

Are We Even Humans  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ (Literally all the stars)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103344

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5660761/chapters/25048773 (prequel)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7036330/chapters/16007758 (sequel)

The war is over, but putting together everything that fell apart will be a greater challenge than anyone is prepared to handle. Alliances dissolve, and the lines between friends and enemies are blurrier than ever before.

Opinion: Please read it. It is a series with a sequel and a prequel that can be read on its own but it’s so good. Imma go on a quick rant here. This fic is great from the writing, plot, characters, and the nuances of nationhood abilities. I literally rioted during the first chapter because it was so good. One of my absolutely favorite things in the fic and the series as a whole is Prussia. Kingdom of Prussia, German Democratic Republic, Gilbert Beilschmidt. His character progression and seeing him through the series as a whole is astounding. I was literally left shaken at the end of this series and I’ve read it twice. The OC’s are usually the antagonists, but hot damn, they are memorable OC’s who are great (terrible?) villains. And the family dynamics! The family dynamics are enough of a reason to read it by itself and the romances. Omg I love this fic so much. Main takeaways: astounding characterization, amazing plot, will cry, long read, and a reality check on what it means to be a nation.

Would it be too much if I did a separate post on how much I love this series and an in depth analysis? (I feel like such a nerd omg)

Hard Times Passing 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516458/chapters/56397817

Alfred is homeless during the Great Depression and in his wanderings he's charged with the task of caring for a small orphaned Taiwan. AU-Human names used, Taiwan is a child.

Opinion: So incredibly heart warming. It’s well written and I love the dialogue so much. Also, the little cameos from other characters are an absolute delight. It’s a it short, but so wholesome.

Flowers Don’t Grow on Battlefields  ⭐

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14153106/chapters/32619954

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898919/chapters/39697068 (sequel)

As war tightens its hold on the nations of the world, new alliances are formed. Nobody will escape the war unscathed. Italy only hopes that this time, he will find a way to save those he holds dearest.

Opinion: I realllly like this fic. Maybe I’m a bit bias because I remember reading it from like to third chapter and watching it get updated till the end, but this is really good. Cute gerita, great characterization, good plot, and some lines just really make me melt. And the fluff omg. There’s a sequel that’s linked under too that I may like more than the first. 

Who Knew (One Shot)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516695#main

“The last time the two of them had any sort of contact was when Gilbert sent the letter to Matthew before the first war started.

That was twenty-six years ago. Twenty-six years Matthew had not seen Gilbert. Twenty-six years of Matthew worrying about if his fiancé was alive or not. Twenty-six years of Matthew thinking about all the horrible things that could be happening to Gilbert. Twenty-six years of Matthew wishing he could just see Gilbert, even if it were just for a second. Twenty-six years of pure hell for Matthew. Twenty-six years of being all alone.”

Matthew Williams, the personification of Canada, never thought that he would fall in love, but he did. He fell in love with Gilbert Beilschmidt, the personification of Prussia, but their romance would have to be cut short with the up coming war that was soon approaching them.

Opinion: My god my heart. Matthew had great characterization. Like amazingly so. 10/10 somber and melodic tones throughout the story. Good tension. And again, my heart. 

TELL ME A PIECE OF YOUR HISTORY  ⭐

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741175/chapters/8294941#workskin

An account of the media reactions to the reveal of Nations (anthropomorphic national embodiments) with scholarly commentary.

Heavily inspired by: United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015) [fallingvoices, radialarch] with mixed genres.

Opinion: It’s really cool. It’s told through media, like email, twitter, texts, online magazines, subtitles of videos (not actual videos tho). I love the outside view point of the world on nations and how some people really like them and how others absolutely despise their very existence. One of the main things that sticks out the me is the in depth analysis other humans or posters do on the nations and people even interview the nations, chapter eight is like my favorite for that reason, or how some humans just gush about the nations on so media like how half the fandom does lol. It’s really good. Super creative, great insight on how to world sees the nations, and honestly a great read.

Red Winter (One shot and crossover!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/909492

The Winter Soldier's new target: a Russian politician named Ivan Braginsky.

Things don't go as planned.

Opinion: Literally so cool. Like nations are total BS to outsiders, especially assassins. I was loosing it during this fic because from Bucky’s POV nations are something else. The writing is really solid and the author uses italics to highlight an action sound or word and even single-word thoughts. The fight scene is really entertaining but also it flows fantastically. 

In Costa Rica (Oneshot)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18614041

“You have this backwards,” McLaughlin said. “Everything. You have it all backwards.” He was a lithe man, looked to be in his mid-thirties. Schnabel leaned back in his chair. Outside, the afternoon rain started, and the frogs momentarily fell silent. “They are dangerous, aren’t they?” Two men discuss the nations and history.

Opinion: No actual nations appear in this fic. It’s just two men talking about the nations and it’s really interesting to see them humor and take seriously the idea of nations. They both discuss what they already know about the nations and theorize. Also hearing an outside perspective and how the nations effect the word around them is golden. I give this fic a big ol’ chef’s kiss. 

Finally, I’ll Just Miss You! (Oneshot)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15553608

Countries will be abolished tomorrow. For the first time, they breathe and realize this might be their last breath and they’ll never wake up again. They want to wake up, they want to go to sleep, the land will still be there when they’re gone. But they breathe, it won’t be the same- for once, they feel human.

Opinion: Bro, I swear I’m not crying. This one is short but really bittersweet and my heart really hurts. I like the snippets of insight on the characters. 

Diamond in the Rough  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ 

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12872642/1/

The year is 1952, the last full year of Joseph Stalin's rule over the Soviet Union. After an incident with Latvia, Estonia is determined to find out what Russia did to him. And so unfolds a chain of events that would lead the Baltic States to tears, to forgiveness, to unexpected courage and horrifying discoveries about the mysterious past of Gilbert Beilschmidt. See AN for rating.

Opinion: This just be a legitimate book. I have honestly read this one like three time and every time I read it I am absolutely elated to discover another detail or action I missed. It is a longer read but I think it is absolutely worth it. For one, the characterization is beautiful. Maybe I might be bias because I stan and love the Baltics, but how they are written compared to the many other fics I’ve read on them is phenomenal. While the author does take some creative liberties and deviates from canon a little, like the Baltics actually considering themselves to be brothers, I really enjoy the changes. ALSO, the history and research and on this fic is genuinely impressive. To think fic authors do this shit for fun and pour so much of their passion into a piece of writing. Secondly, while Russia may be an antagonist in this story, I honestly think it is just. His mentality, backstory, and current predicament explain his behavior and make him a justifiable antagonist. I highly recommend this one. 

Adieux (Oneshot)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6700886/1/

What happens to nations after they cease to exist? Do they simply disappear or do they get a second chance? It wasn't a subject Francis was particularly keen on finding out about...but at the same time, it wasn't something he could just ignore. One-shot

Opinion: I hate this fic because I love it way too much. I might of cried a little bit and I instantly melt of Francis and Matthew. 

In Our Solemn Hour (incomplete) ⭐

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8975529/30/In-Our-Solemn-Hour

The time was World War II, at the dawn of a global conflict like nothing any of the Nations had ever seen before. Nothing could've prepared them for what lay ahead: a war more total and radical than anything they could ever have imagined. This wasn't just business as usual; it was centuries' worth of pent-up emotions all coming into play at once. This was indeed their darkest hour.

Opinion: Characterization is on point. One part of this fic I remember very well during a fight to the death, Finland mutters a little “Oh dear”. The characters retain some of the qualities that make them silly in Hetalia but because this is another take on it it does get darker. I think Germany’s portrayal is my favorite because he does cruel and unnesscary things and questions it because its not his usal nature. The author notes are super insightful and sometimes funny; it really adds to the rest of the story. I might revisit this post to make a more in depth opinion on it because I don’t remember it all to well when I know I really like this one.

So that was my post lol. I’ll probably make more on other fandoms later tbh or I’ll just make a part two. If you end up reading about any of these posts, please feel free to tell me about them! I love talking about fics and reading in general. Thanks for reading!

[akirakurusuimagines]

Curry, Spice, and Everything Nice - Aokira

Aoi Ueno is @ace-closed‘s Persona 5 OC, if you want to know more about him, check out her blog!

Akira let out a lingering breath and pulled the bundled up scarf over his nose as he watched the remnants of his breath dissolve into the air. In his hand, he carried a steaming hot container of freshly made curry, a situation he was more than familiar with, after months of providing Aoi with food every so often as part of the exchange they made with their confidant. Even now, after a couple months of them actually dating, Aoi would still call Akira in the middle of a random night to ask for food, considering he wasn’t exactly great at cooking, and easily got tired of convenience store meals, as restaurants closed early. Akira didn’t mind at all, though. It made him happy that someone appreciated his cooking, considering it was one of the few talents that Akira felt genuinely proud of.

He took another glance at his clock, closing in on the path to Aoi’s place — a route that he’s taken so many times, if you blindfolded him, he could probably still find his way there. 11:37 pm, read his phone. Akira’s shoulders fell and he stared at the bright window against the dark street, wondering what Aoi was staying up late for this time. Work? That was likely.

There was no need to knock; Akira had been given his own spare key ages ago, with a small, distinct crown embedded into the head of it, turning the key to let himself in. “Aoi?” Akira called out as he stepped inside the warm house, grateful for the crispy heat, compared to the cold attic in Leblanc and the freezing temperatures of the streets. He took off his shoes, coat, and his scarf, feeling the tips of his fingers finally thaw from the bitter cold. “Where did he go?” Akira muttered to himself, hanging up the last of his belongings before he felt a heavy pressure on his back and the soft tingling of hair on his neck, followed by a familiar kiss on his shoulder. Akira’s lips curled up in a wide smile, instantly knowing who was hugging him so tightly. “You act like a puppy sometimes, you know that?”

Aoi merely grunted in response and wrapped his arms a little tighter around Akira, mumbling a soft “shut up,” as he rested his chin on Akira’s shoulder, closing his eyes and exhaling, seeking the warmth from affection that Akira provided.

He must have really missed me… The corners of Akira’s lips twitched up into a smile and he used his free hand to gently play with Aoi’s hair, finding the position a little uncomfortable but wanting Aoi to feel better. “Hey, come on, let’s eat before it gets too cold.” Akira whispered knocking his head gently against Aoi’s and managing to twist himself around, only to be caught in a gentle and sweet kiss. Akira couldn’t contain his soft laughter, seeing Aoi so desperate for affection after weeks of being practically isolated because of a special job an important client of his requested him to do. Akira laid a hand on Aoi’s cheek and quickly kissed him once more after they had parted, before pressing a hand on his chest to move him back just a little for Akira to be free. He always talks about how I’m cute but he forgets that sometimes he’s absolutely adorable.

Aoi sighed and reluctantly let go of Akira, his stomach growling lowly. His ears were flushed pink in embarrassment, looking away to avoid the baffled expression on Akira’s face, who pieced together that Aoi hadn’t eaten much if at all today, likely because he was so concentrated on finishing up the job that he had even forgotten to stop for a break. “Hah… guess it caught up to me, huh?” He moved towards the coffee table in the living room and set the bag down onto the table, glancing at Akira who had just put on his personal pair of slippers and began following him. “Thank you… for coming all this way so late and unexpectedly.” Aoi seemed sheepish⁠— a look he rarely took.

Akira still wasn’t totally used to seeing a softer side to his lover like this, but it wasn’t a bad thing at all… it warmed his heart to be able to see Aoi’s genuine love firsthand. Maybe because he’s been so busy and exhausted and we haven’t been able to see each other for a few weeks… I think he wanted to call me over more for me than the food, but I’m sure the meal is a welcome bonus. He smiled softly and sat down next to Aoi, his legs folded into each other and his palms propping his head up on the table. Akira watched Aoi with an expression of complete admiration and adoration as Aoi placed the boxed dinners in front of Akira and himself, getting lost in his boyfriend’s familiar and ever-lovely features. “I love you.” Akira smiled as he said it, perhaps not even recognizing that he had, but felt his chest swell and heart flutter all the same. I really am… completely and utterly in love. How funny… I wonder what past me would have said if he could have seen this.

Aoi froze, clearly taken off guard as he was sitting down to join Akira in their dining. “W-Where did that come from, all of a sudden?” He muttered with a flushed face, much too exhausted to act coy and snarky. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Akira, feeling those sharp grey eyes staring right at him in amusement, and instead chose to take his dinner and a freshly clean pair of chopsticks. “...I love you too.” Aoi mumbled under his breath, perhaps too quiet for Akira to hear, but he didn’t repeat himself and instead took a large portion of food into his mouth, the flavorful and warm meal soothing every part of Aoi from both his hunger and exhaustion, as if it were refilling his SP in the Metaverse.

Akira had figured what Aoi had mumbled was a simple reciprocation of his affections, and he found it cute to see Aoi still get flustered sometimes when saying it, even after all this time. He took his own dinner in his lap, not exactly hungry at the moment, but still decided to indulge Aoi by eating with him. Akira chewed slowly, wondering silently what he could do to improve the next time he stepped into the kitchen.  

“You seriously are an amazing cook… I’m a little jealous of my dear housewife.” Aoi cracked a teasing grin, finally looking back at Akira in hopes his words affected the boy in some way.

It worked⁠⁠— he was completely caught off guard. Akira’s cheeks burned a bright red and he choked on his food, turning away and coughing, only looking back when the coughing subsided, and his embarrassment only grew with Aoi’s muffled, then hearty laughter. “You can’t just⁠... say something like that, Aoi!” He complained, elbowing the shaking male beside him.

“But you are⁠—” Aoi retorted, trying to quiet down his laughter, lest he choked on his own meal, though the tears that pricked the corner of his eyes said otherwise. “Ahh, I haven’t laughed like that in ages..” He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his hands, the grin seeming permanent on his face.

Akira groaned loudly and set his food back on the coffee table, though he wasn’t exactly fond of being made such a flustered mess, seeing Aoi’s joyous expressions and how he was genuinely happy made it all worth it⁠— though he was still going to complain about it; naturally. “You only say that stuff because without me, you would’ve gone broke or starved.” He huffed softly, resting his elbow on his knee and chin on the palm of his hand, pouting a bit.

“Mmm.” Aoi hummed amusedly and leaned in closer to Akira, stealing a chaste kiss. “Then I’ll have to keep you by my side all the time, huh?” He teased, going back to eating his food happily while Akira’s face burned even brighter in embarrassment. “To come home from work to a wonderfully smelling house and a gorgeous spouse, waiting just for me… that sounds like a nice dream.” Aoi spoke softly, a dreamy expression cast on his face. “But! I’ll take what I can get here.”

“Hey.”

“Just kidding~” Aoi snorted, ruffling Akira’s hair affectionately.

Akira rolled his eyes and playfully glared at him. “Just eat, you smug bastard.” He grumbled, checking his phone for any messages⁠— though as he expected, there were none. Akira glanced back over, wondering why his heart continued to flutter like a schoolgirl in love even after all this time. It was embarrassing.

“As you wish, my dear wife~” Aoi teased, earning him a half-assed glare from the boy seated beside him. He ate the rest of his curry without much teasing, though every so often will praise the food highly, critiquing it fairly and gushing about how proud he was of Akira’s growth as an up-and-coming chef of sorts, only becoming satisfied when he saw Akira get visibly flustered at the praise.

Akira twisted his bangs and lowered his head a little, clearly red, and only able to mumble “I’m glad you like it” in response. To be able to impress Aoi in such a way was thrilling, and he was too caught up in his own thoughts and joy to realize that Aoi had set the plate down and had turned to face him until it was too late.

Aoi pulled Akira’s hand from his face and replaced it with his own resting against either side of Akira’s face, gently rubbing his cheek with his thumb. “You’re too cute for your own good.”

“I’m not—” Akira began to protest, but was cut off by a tender kiss. His eyes widened in surprise, though he relaxed almost immediately afterwards, and snuck his hand to cradle the back of Aoi’s head, sighing into the kiss as they adopted a natural and gentle rhythm. Akira’s face scrunched up a bit, beginning to taste the curry Aoi had just ate on his lips— it wasn’t… a bad taste, but not nearly as nice as it could be. He pulled away first and opened his eyes, putting a hand to Aoi’s mouth before the older teen could kiss him again. “Go brush your teeth, you taste like curry.” Akira ordered, staring him down so Aoi knew that he was being serious.

Aoi huffed softly and peeled Akira’s hand off his mouth, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he stood up and tossed a pillow at Akira, who not-so-graciously caught it. “Then how about you make us some coffee while I’m getting ready for bed?”

“At this time of night? In your dreams.”

“It was worth a shot.” He shrugged and gave Akira a small wave, reminding him to make himself at home before disappearing in his room.

Akira exhaled loudly, shoulders slumping and falling back onto the couch, raising his hands to his face and pressing them against his warm skin, embarrassed that he was still so worked up whenever he was around Aoi like this. “I’m such a mess… I should be suave and cool and charming but he just… smiles at me and I melt…” He mumbled into his hands, letting them drop to his lap with a deep exhale. Akira couldn’t help but smile longingly towards the direction of Aoi’s bedroom, and when he caught himself, he grabbed the nearest pillow and buried his face on it, clutching it tightly. I’m seriously going crazy because of him… He sighed out again, the overwhelming emotions needing some kind of relief, and squeezed the pillow a little tighter, not looking up and simply trying to calm his racing heart and squeezing chest, figuring Aoi was going to take a little while to get ready⁠— as usual.

With nothing better to do while Akira waits, he began spacing out, daydreaming about all of the memories he’s had with his partner that made him beam and go weak in the knees, feeling the warmth on his cheeks return quickly. He was totally vulnerable, since he didn’t see any reason as to why he should keep an eye or an ear out when it came to staying with Aoi⁠— he trusted him with his life. Maybe more than that.

Though that’s not always the best choice when it comes to dealing with an unpredictable and cheeky boyfriend like Aoi Ueno.

Sneaking up in front of Akira, Aoi’s chilled hands from spending several minutes under ice-cold water tingled with numbness, the winter season not helping the way the cold felt at all⁠— however, the wide grin on Aoi’s face would have told anyone differently, with how giddy, and almost childish he got. Aoi paused for a moment, holding his breath, before he lunged towards Akira, aiming for the spots on his waist that were exposed.

“Aah⁠—?!” The reaction was immediate, and Aoi felt the effects of it immensely. Akira, in an attempt to push Aoi away from him, shoved the pillow in his boyfriend’s face, exposing his own wide-eyed and red expression. “It’s c-cold⁠—! Get off!!” He gasped, squirming under his boyfriend’s firm grip.

“You’re so cute~” Aoi laughed heartily, removing one hand temporarily to grab the pillow that muffled his voice and obscured his vision and tossing it behind him before grabbing onto Akira’s familiar waist again, pushing himself closer as Akira attempted to compose himself, but ended up much worse than before. The cheeky teen leaned down close to his lover’s ear, making sure not to get hit with the way he was still squirming. “Revenge,” he muttered, his smug grin widening as Akira gasped for breath underneath him, ticklish and cold, “is very sweet.”

“Aoi you⁠— you asshole⁠—”

Akira’s words were cut off with a firm kiss, after Aoi had seemed to decide that he was content with having ‘punished’ Akira for sending him away to get ready for bed before, as well as the fact that his hands began to thaw. He felt Akira’s grip on his shoulders relax, always weak for the way Aoi’s lips melded with his. Aoi pressed a knee between Akira’s legs, desperately wishing to make up for the few minutes he was away. Nothing was enough⁠— he wanted more. After being away from Akira and not having been able to feel his warmth for weeks, he didn’t even want sleep to part them.

Akira’s hand traced the path from Aoi’s shoulder to his cheek, cupping it while his other hand toyed with his hair, gripping it a little to steady himself and match Aoi’s slow, intense kisses. “Mmh…” Akira’s heart seemed to resonate with Aoi’s, beating hard against his chest as he attempted to imprint the feeling of his kisses into his mind, though he knew a memory could never compare to reality.

He shifted a little, scooting towards the armrest of the couch, and pulled Aoi closer to him, feeling Aoi stiffen in surprise and try to catch himself from falling, though still crashing a bit onto Akira, forcing their lips apart. Akira’s hand immediately flew to his mouth and he began laughing loudly, his other hand returning to Aoi’s shoulder as he looks up at him, unable to contain his unfiltered joy while Aoi grumbled and tried to adjust himself properly.

“What was it you said? Revenge is sweet?” Akira teased, taking the opportunity to push his hips to Aoi’s and flip them over. It was a bit of a tight maneuver, but Akira managed to comfortably sit on Aoi’s lap, a smug smile reminiscent of Joker’s spreading across his face as he leaned down, closing the distance between them, leaving them just a few centimeters apart. “God, I missed you.” He pushed some of Aoi’s increasingly messy hair from his eyes, finding himself captivated by them once more.

“Do me a favor, then.” Aoi whispered, his eye contact with Akira never wavering.

“What’s up?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Akira snorted and rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but oblige, connecting their lips once more, relaxing into the familiar feeling of each other’s touch and warmth. He smiled as he kissed Aoi, feeling his lover’s hands creep up his thighs all the way up to the back of his head, gripping his messy locks.

Aoi exhaled deeply as he let Akira take more control of this kiss, sinking back into the comfortable couch, the gratitude and love he felt towards Akira growing stronger than ever. His head, normally swarming with stress and anxiety, was nearly silent as they held each other in their arms. It wasn’t always easy to cope with the things he’s done, yet somehow he always found himself at peace with Akira. Perhaps that was one of the most wonderful gifts he’s ever been given⁠— intentionally or not.

It was difficult to stop the waves of passion from crashing between the two young lovers, barely able to part for a breath, and in that moment, a brief “I love you,” replaced the kiss before they were drawn together again like magnets. Akira smiled widely against Aoi’s lips, who suppressed a chuckle himself. One last heartfelt kiss⁠— Akira pulled Aoi closer by his cheeks, feeling a little smug as he felt Aoi gasp at the sudden, slightly rougher embrace.

Only when they began to feel their lungs burn from the lack of oxygen did they finally part, foreheads resting against each other and finally cracking their eyes open to gaze back into each other’s eyes, breathing heavily but each reflecting a wide smile as they experienced the complete bliss of being in love once again, after being apart for so long.

Aoi was the first to move, taking Akira’s head and pulling him down towards his chest with a laugh, feeling the other immediately make himself cozy on his boyfriend. “I missed you too…” He spoke softly, relaxing and running his fingers through Akira’s hair, feeling the soft locks move with his gentle touches. He felt Akira clutch his clothes a little more firmly and looked down at him, smiling warmly. “Always so sweet...”

Akira shifted a little on Aoi, his head resting on his chest, listening to the soothing sound of Aoi’s heartbeat that somehow seemed to sync with his own. It was undeniably late at this point⁠— and Akira couldn’t help but close his eyes, his breaths evening out and barely conscious, the feeling on his head, the sound of his heart, and the warmth Aoi provided lulled Akira to sleep.

Aoi stayed there silently for a few minutes until he realized Akira had fallen asleep on him. He chuckled softly, always amused at how easily Akira seemed to sleep compared to him. He was tired, yes, but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep yet. Not for fear of nightmares⁠— he knew having Akira in his arms would take care of that⁠— but more so that he wanted to take every opportunity he could get with Akira at the moment, especially with his heart bursting at the seams with love right now.

He took a deep breath in, letting his head fall back on the armrest and staring up at the ceiling, one hand fiddling with Akira’s hair, and the other cushioning his own head. “You… I can barely begin to describe everything you mean to me… everything you’ve done, everything you are… everything you and I will be.” Aoi began, feeling comfortable enough to spill his heart out to Akira when he isn’t being listened to. “To fight for someone like me… to care enough to give me hope. To… bring yourself to love me, and make me love you the same… you’ve got a serious talent, and such a warm heart. I’m sure the others would agree with me on that.” Aoi exhaled deeply, recalling the fond moments they’ve had together, from the beginning to now. He couldn’t help but smile at those memories. Just thinking about how far they’ve come sent his heart racing, and he could feel the heat rise to his cheeks again. “I never thought… I would be able to love again and yet… here you are. It’s so strange… when we first met, I didn’t think much of you at all and now… well… saying that I would do anything for you really isn’t an exaggeration.” Aoi let a laugh escape his parted lips, the overwhelming feeling of relief and love truthfully guiding his every move and word. “I love you, Akira.”

“I love you too, Aoi. More than I know how to express.” The muffled yet unmistakable voice, full of a certain kind of sweetness filled Aoi’s ears, as Akira lifted his head, cheeks clearly reddened and eyes soft. “You’re really adorable when you get gushy, you know that?”

Aoi’s eyes widened in realization that his raw emotions had been heard loud and clear by Akira due to his own carelessness, and found all the words that had been in his throat were now stuck there, rendering him completely speechless. “I⁠— I…”

Akira laughed loudly, shifting himself so he could better face Aoi, and squished his boyfriend’s cheeks in both his hands, pulling him close and giving him a long kiss, though Akira’s weariness was quite clear in his slow movements. “You’re so sweet, I want to hear the true feelings from your heart again…” Akira spoke in a hushed tone, peppering lazy kisses all over Aoi’s face, chuckling as he did so, unable to stop the smile from spreading on his lips.

“Akira.” Aoi’s voice came out more of a whine than something stern, unable to stop his lovebug of a partner from kissing him over and over again. He eventually groaned and shoved his hands over Akira’s mouth, stopping the barrage of affection, and giving him a moment to breathe. He furrowed his brows, trying to muster up a stern expression to combat the wide-eyed, cute one Akira gave him. “If you already heard everything I said until now, then let me finish before you get all cute.” Aoi slowly said, pulling his hands away, and instead pushing Akira off of him, grunting as he slid off the couch and stood up, holding a hand out for Akira to take.

Akira stared at him curiously, wondering what Aoi was planning on doing, but took his hand anyways, standing up and continued to hold his hand, squeezing it softly and rubbing the back of it with his thumb. “Ah… okay.” He didn’t put up much of a fight at all, far too tired and too invested in drowning in the sweet, intoxicating love they shared.

Aoi smiled, leaning in and kissing the corner of Akira’s mouth. “Atta boy.” He cooed, gently tugging Akira’s hand as he started to move towards the balcony, dipping from the path for a moment to grab a hefty blanket for the two of them to share. He didn’t hear any complaints from Akira and smiled, opening the door and quickly pulling the two of them out into the cold, quickly shutting the door so the house remained a comfortable temperature.

Akira felt the weight of the blanket on his shoulders almost immediately, and the familiar feeling of a hand around his waist as he was tugged closer to Aoi, who leaned against the railing and looked up into the night sky. “It’s cold…” He commented, but let his gaze follow upwards, quickly becoming mesmerized by the visibility of the stars, even in the city. “The stars almost look like snow…”

“Hey, Akira?”

“Hm?”

Aoi’s fingers gently tilted Akira’s face towards him, breaking the spell the stars cast on the teen. “It might sound a little unbelievable, but I… feel so at home with you. Like this was meant to be… I don’t want this dream to end. So naturally, that means you’re stuck with me.”

“You act like I didn’t know that already. Besides, I thought you brought me out here to sweet talk me.”

“You’re impatient, I’m getting to it.” Aoi pinched Akira’s nose lightly and playfully, eliciting a hilarious expression from his lover, who glared at him. He did his best not to laugh and pressed a gentle kiss on Akira’s nose. “Like I was saying…” He began, huddling himself closer to his lover, more ready to spill his heart out to not only Akira, but to the rest of the sleeping world on that peaceful winter night.

[osmw1]

Crowbar Nurse   Chapter 15 — Fanficcers Ship, That’s What They Do

Back in front of the safehouse, the three of us had begun planning our endgame strategy together.

“This would be the path to get to the truck ending.”

I drew a line on the ground with a stick of chalk. Kiryū and I came across a set of sidewalk chalk on our way home and now we were putting it to good use by drawing maps. … Originally, it was meant to evoke the image that children were playing in the streets one day and then suddenly getting attacked by zombies, but it was never shown in the actual game for ethical reasons… Oh, and if you wanted to know, the set had every color a kid could ever need.

“Go this way, then here, turn here, then like this, then… and that’s our goal. Simple, right?” “Turn this way here?” “No, no. It’s that way there.” “Oh… so, like this?” “No, not like that. Like this.” “And then that way?” “No, the other way.” “Then this way.” “No! I’m telling you, that way over there…” “Gaaah! Knock it off, you two! Neither one of you are making any sense anymore!”

Elizabeth interrupted our serious and earnest preparation session.

“What is going on?! Ever since you have returned from the firing range, you lot have been completely incoherent, mainly because you are deliberately avoiding any eye contact! What on earth happened between the two of you?!” “Umm, erm…”

Stumbling with my words, I glanced at Kiryū who immediately looked away in a fluster. Both of us must’ve been embarrassed about how I had run up and hugged him earlier.

“… N-Nothing at all! There’s nothing that you have to worry about, Elizabeth!”

I squeezed my eyes shut and shrieked back at her, but I don’t think it helped my case at all.

“… I see. So, that’s how it is,” Elizabeth responded in a low whisper. “Huh?"

I opened my eyes to see her grinning from ear to ear.

“Umm, Elizabeth?” “I see. I understand now. So, that sort of stuff happened at the firing range.” “Wha—?!”

My head was about to snap off from how hard I was shaking my head, but Elizabeth wasn’t reacting to me at all. She was dripping with fraught just a moment ago. I guess it was good that she’s got her spirit back, but where did all of this excitement come from?

“Umm, are you alright, Elizabeth? Is something the matter?” “… I apologize for the late and abrupt introduction.” “Huh?” “I am but yet another wage slave from Shinjuku. My hobbies include dating simulations, reader-inserts, and providing dating advice to the friends around me.” “Reader-inserts?”

The term seemed to have thrown Kiryū for a loop.

“What are those? I come across lots of fan labor made by women due to the nature of my work, but I’ve never heard of that one before… Any clue, Sera?” “No, not one bit.”

As I shook my head again, this time, Elizabeth responded with a chuckle.

“Not a surprise, seeing how Sera is but a normie… Reader-insert is but a small subgenre within fanfiction. It is a type of story in which the audience inserts themselves as the protagonist, paired with a canon character. Though it doesn’t get much attention, the subgenre has quite a few followers worldwide, even outside of Japan, where they’re sometimes called x readers .” “What does the x mean though?”

Elizabeth readily answered his question.

“The x denotes pairing. You would put the character name before the x to signify the work pairs the character and the reader in a relationship, usually a romantic one. Authors overseas usually write in second person, but here in Japan, we use cookies and scripts to pull the reader’s name from their account and insert it into the text. … And for your reference, I stan canon/OC pairings. That is to say, rather than using the reader, I prefer stories with OC.” “OC?”

Kiryū was thrown for loop after loop, then he looked at me.

“… Any clue, Sera?” “No, not one bit.”

Elizabeth sighed in exasperation as I shook my head for the third time.

“You truly know nothing, don’t you…? ‘OC’ is short for ‘original character’. Anyway, getting back on track and to summarize what I mean, I indulge in observing the romance between other people. Just listening to my friends and family gushing about their love interests is simply not enough. Instead, I have to reach out to dating sims and fanfiction to satiate this desire of mine. Though I don’t care much for getting directly involved. That is why I am delighted to see this unfold.” “… What exactly is unfolding here?”

My question had only pleased her more.

“Why, of course, the situation between you and Kiryū! You two are almost like grade schoolers in how you are so conscious of each other now.” “Yeah, right! What are you talking about?!” “I am so not!”

Somehow, we both picked the most childish ways to respond to her. It was likely just him panicking, but the way how Kiryū said it was exactly how a grade schooler would.

Elizabeth mockingly scoffed back, “Heh. It’s obvious, seeing how flustered you two are. So, something did indeed happen at the firing range, then? I’m not about to judge. However, with how confused you two are, you have also lost your teamwork and communication. Now, hurry up and tell you love each other and embrace already so that we can proceed with the ending with clear heads.”

She extended her hands out towards us, as if she were waiting on something to happen.

“Think about us for a moment, Elizabeth! Surely, it’s obvious that you’re asking for something totally unreasonable!” “I am?” “Yes, you are! I haven’t met Kiryū in person before, you know? There’s no way I could even consider anything romantic between us! My feelings towards Kiryū are purely and genuinely one of respect!” “Right, sure. So she said, Kiryū.”

She takes an upwards glance at him as she spoke. Kiryū simply nodded and brushed off her comments as to end this embarrassing topic for good.

Elizabeth, why did you have to go and bring that up…?

I sighed in defeat as I looked up at Kiryū, who looked just as fed up with the situation as I was. I’m sure we were both thinking the same thing as we couldn’t help but chuckle at our predicament.

“… See how in sync you two are?”

In a complete reversal, she had turned to a sage; her expression was calm and gentle and her laughter dry, but different from the teasing tone that marked her previously. … A thought randomly popped into my mind: Oh, that’s right. She’s got her teaching license, doesn’t she? Perhaps she’s taught boys and girls in her class that acted the same way. Interrupting my thoughts, Elizabeth continued,

“It’s good and well that you two are in sync but remember that our teamwork crumbles if you two are being awkward and refuse to look each other in the eyes. Cooperation is just as important in slaying zombies as it is in folk dance in PE class. Nothing will work to your favor if you are embarrassed. Don’t forget that our lives are on the line too.” “You’re… absolutely right.”

I nodded after listening to Elizabeth. She smiled back as if to say, Just as long as you understand. I have the feeling that she had messed with us only to snap us out of our emotions. She has my gratitude for that, but yet… having how bothered I had been pointed out made me feel a little sheepish.

“… I know perfectly how to get to the truck ending, so don’t worry about memorizing this.”

I punctuated my explanation with a sigh,

“But to give everyone the gist of it, our plan is to take a bit of a detour to slip past the traps ahead of us as we force our way to the enemies and bosses. After the detour, we’ll barrel down the missile-torn roads in our truck towards ‘You’… That’s the plan, at least. Should be a piece of cake.” “A piece of cake? There were exactly zero parts in your plan that sounded easy.”

Elizabeth squeezed her temples as if she had a terrible headache. Raising my head upwards, I looked into her eyes, reassuring her that we’ll be fine, and she smiled.

“Don’t worry. Let me take care of massacring the zombies. Sure, it may be a little rough ahead, but we’ve got so many toys in our arsenal, so let’s have some fun enjoying this game too. Let’s just step on the gas and see if we can’t power through it.” “I trust you, Sera.”

The man of few words picked up his crowbar.

“The path is as you marked out, right? There ain’t much time. Let’s get a move on.”

He wasn’t kidding about hurrying; he sped off, leaving Elizabeth and me to frantically catch up. Elizabeth saw the blush on my cheeks and empathetically patted my on the shoulder with a gentle smile.

“… You have fallen for Kiryū, haven’t you? Perhaps you are surprised at how sudden these feelings came?” “I-I’m telling you, I haven’t! Really!”

I desperately shook my head from side to side, but… unfortunately, I can’t seem to shake Kiryū off my mind. Still, she's mistaken. These aren’t romantic feelings… I don't think so, at least. It was easy to brush off her earlier comments as a joke, but the longer I contemplate about this, the more embarrassed I get. I hadn’t given much thought about the Kiryū in real life up until now. I mean, I understand there’s a person in there, but I was charmed by the handsome Kiryū Sōichirō. And because of that, I’d been treating him like an actual in-game NPC. I was even being smug and cavalier to him.

I don’t think I would act like that anymore. I don’t think I could. I can’t even look him properly in the eyes.

“Is that right? Well, in that case, I should best stop teasing you about it. My apologies for being insensitive. But what really happened between you two?” “Umm… He was doxed? I doxed him?” “What? How did something like that happen?” “I guess I could say… I knew someone who spoke like him?” “And you knew who he really is from just that?” “Yes? But ma-maybe not? Huh. How the heck did I figure who he is from just how he spoke? That’s weird. That’s really weird…” “… Who the hell cares?!”

Kiryū interjected, severing our conversation. It seemed like he didn’t know where he was going and had to backtrack to us for guidance.

“Let’s hurry up and finish the damn game! That’s all that we should be focusing on right now!”

He was unnaturally worked up and visibly flustered. I can understand why. I mean, his face was all over the internet… But what if he never gets over it? Poor guy. Men sure have it rough in their thirties.

And so, we set off for the truck ending in this amusing yet awkward mood surrounding us. … Or at least until we get into combat again, where Kiryū and I returned to our normal selves. Hurrah, zombie games. Praise be unto zombie games. All hail mighty zombie games.

    “—Muahaha! See you bastards in hell!”

As we progressed on the canonical route, the windows on the fifth floor of a mixed-use building smashed open, freeing a bunch of NPC’s. The moment they hit the ground, they became emotionless weapons of war, attacking all the zombies around them, and throwing them into disarray. The NPC’s jump down one by one as I laugh manically, putting off Elizabeth.

“… You know, I had expected an expert on zombie games to be… cooler than this…” “You can’t beat them if you worry too much about looking cool, Liz.” “Have you considered whether I preferred to be called ‘Elizabeth’?” “But your name is just so long. Anyway, zombie survival games are complex, you know? Sometimes, you’ve gotta do crazy things to win.”

The new soldiers rushed the infected, handily defeating them. Since they’re a low-level mob, so I’m not worried about killing too many of them. They don’t give too much experience anyway. As soon as I said it out loud, though, Kiryū wielded his crowbar and went wild at the zombies.

“Ooh, impressive. You’re really swinging for the fences.”

Before I knew it, I was already awed by Kiryū. It wasn’t just me though. Elizabeth was equally impressed.

“Kiryū is quite well-versed too, I see… Zombie games are simpler than I had thought.” “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Liz. This happens all too often. They watch a god gamer play and think they can do it themselves too. But once they try it for themselves, they get their butts handed to them. Still, for someone claiming he’s never played this kind of game before… Kiryū really is seriously good.” “Mm.” “Ah, we’ll get bombed if we head straight here, so let’s climb over the rubble to our right.”

As I was trotting to the hurdle, I looked behind my shoulder to find Kiryū hacking away at the zombies as if he were possessed.

    “—There it is! That’s the truck!”

After climbing the rubble hill, we reached a plaza where the deuce and a half was abandoned. There’s no mistaking the flat dark earth behemoth as anything but a military vehicle. As the name suggests, it was designed to haul 5,000 lb of cargo.

“Let’s ride this bad boy all the way to the end.” “… Don’t you need the key for it?”

Kiryū, late to the party, ran his fingers along the truck and wondered about how to start it. He was dripping with sweat, likely from his killing frenzy.

“Of course, we need the key. That’s why it’s in your pocket,” I say as I plucked it out of his pocket.

“… Oh, that key, the one we weren’t supposed to get until the second week. That means the truck ending shouldn’t be open until then, too.” “That’s right. This isn’t a canonical ending, but rather an Easter egg, much like the so-called UFO ending.”

I stepped onto the running board, heaved myself into the driver’s seat, and stuck the key into the ignition.

“Oh, my. An ending in which the protagonist gets abducted by aliens? How amusing. I wonder if I can find a video online once I return home.”

As she says that, sparks rained down from the sky, igniting the buildings in our vicinity.

“S-Sparks are falling down on us all of a sudden!” “This cutscene plays once the key is in the ignition. It’s proof that my plan is working, so don’t worry.” “A-Also, another copy of Nick just appeared, and he’s terribly hurt!” “And he’s so much more handsome. Yep, that’s the Nick from the cutscene.”

I jumped off the driver’s seat to inspect this New Nick. Covered with cuts and soot, New Nick scanned his surroundings and suddenly started shouting in English.

＊＊＊ＥＮＧＬＩＳＨ＊＊＊ “N-Nick began speaking in English!” “Don’t worry, Elizabeth. He’s shouting something like, ‘Like hell I’m going to stay in this shithole.’” ＊＊＊ＥＮＧＬＩＳＨ＊＊＊ “And a middle-aged man just appeared, screaming something in English too!” “Like I said, it’s all good. He’s an NPC that only appears in this cutscene. And this guy is yelling, ‘I feel you, man. Ain't like we’re gon’ find survivors no more, so let’s skedaddle on out of this nightmare of a town,’ or something to that effect.”

I explained to Elizabeth beside me, as she curiously and attentively watched the two white men speak.

“… Hey, Sera? Why do they speak so monotonously? It’s completely different than in Glee…” “Oh, did you watch Glee as well?” “Back when I was still in university, I thought it would help with my English. It didn’t take long before I was hooked.” “Wow, how diligent of you. Umm, well, this sort of thing happened a lot when Japanese video games got localized. Even though they hired proper voice talents, for some reason, they still read their lines off a script. The acting was just awful in Resident Evil and those speedy blue hedgehog games…”

Nick clapped his hands, interrupting our chit chat.

“Ah, that’s Nick saying, ‘Let’s hurry on out of here.’ Alright, Kiryū, Elizabeth. Let’s hop in too. Of course, New Nick and the random NPC are planning to leave town, so we’ll have jack the truck before that happens. That way, we’ll be able to reach ‘You’ and the ending area. After that, then we can escape…”

Before I could finish, the world fell into darkness, accompanied by an odd screeching noise.

■ ＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊ ＊＊＊　　ＥＮＧＬＩＳＨ　　＊＊＊ ＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊

A reference to the cult classic Kowloon’s Gate, an adventure game from more than two decades ago. It’s not the author forgetting to fill in the English dialogue! In the original game, ＊＊＊ベトナム語＊＊＊(Vietnamese) would be displayed when a certain Vietnamese character speaks. (Yes, the voice acting was in perfect Vietnamese too.) It’s theorized that this was either simply a joke or that the developers didn’t have the resources to add a typeface with Vietnamese script support. How’s this for an obscure reference?

contents: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /ch013/ /ch014/ /ch015/ /next/

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[redfoxwritesstuff]

Thirsty Tweets

Hello! Happy Monday! I had a job that it turns out I can’t take because the hours are piss poor and unreasonable. But I hit 190 followers so sweet! I’m also a tad feverish so forgive the rambles. Below you’ll find the first of six requests I’ve taken off of the lovely @loki-the-fox. It says reader but so sorry- I typically write for OC’s and when it comes to RPF I refuse to write reader inserts- it’s my line. Sorry! 

Masterlist

Request by Anon on 11/15/18 Hello! I had this sorta funny idea that I wanted to request? But basically Tom and the reader are both on the set for “reading thirst tweets” and while they both read them out loud they get shocked, flustered and possessive over each other as each one goes. The reader even agrees with some of them. I was either thinking that they could do a joint interview, like Kevin Hart and his wife, or they could watch each other read em out loud behind the camera ??? idk, I just thought how funny it would be to see Tom react to all the thirsty tweets he gets. If you can’t incorporate everything though, that’s completely okay!!

Thirsty Tweets

“Monica,Tom! Set in ten!” A crew member yelled after popping her head into the room I was currently pacing. Interviews and such were always hard for me. I had never really thought I would get to a place where I’d be doing interviews on live telly. I’d never thought I’d get this far at all to be honest, yet here I am.

“Your hands are shaking.”

Tom came out of nowhere or so it seemed. His footsteps always seemed soft and it never made any sense to me. The way he moved and walked showed his confidence. His steps would echo on solid floors but in here, the carpet silenced his movements letting him sneak up on me. I hated it. I hated how he would catch me off guard.

“I’m fine.”

I hated him. Or at least, I wanted to. He was tall and lean and beautiful. His kindness was remarkable. I could swear his voice, accent and all could melt butter fresh out of the fridge. And I had to spend the last year working with him. It wasn’t fair.

Before I would have sworn men like him were imaginary. Nope, turns out that’s not the case. They just are never interested in girls like me. That’s why I got the role of ‘Mary’. I was plain compared to the actresses he was used to working with but could clean up pretty. That was just what they needed.

Now I know the sad truth, men like him exist. I want one and can’t have one. Well, that’s not true, I had one. Well almost. I got to make friends with one while he pretended not to be one.

I know it’s a part of the job but after some of the scenes we’ve filmed together it’s hard not to get flustered around the man. He’s just so perfect and then knowing first hand what it feels like to have him almost naked and rutting against me- it’s just too much. I know what the man’s ass feels like for god’s sake. You grab that ass while hearing him moan in your ear and not feel anything. I’m an actress yes but I’m not immune to him.

I didn’t think it would be a problem. Don’t catch feelings for your coworkers. It seems like an easy enough rule and he played a bit of an asshole in his part. It should have been easy.

If it was so easy why was having him even in the same room as me making me turn into a freaking mess. It was honestly annoying. It wasn’t like me to be a flustered mess because of a man.

Filming is one thing. It’s my thing. It’s what I do. I always felt in my element. Getting on that stage where I’m just me was different. And being just me next to Him? Oh no, that’s a whole different ballgame and I suck at ball.

“You two are up.” The same woman popped her head in again and waved us on. Yay!

“It will be okay.” The sound of his voice drew my eyes to him and I hated it how the sound of it relaxed me. “I’ll take care of you.” He promised me and my mind went right to the gutter.

Rather than say the not so professional thought that ran through my head I just nodded mutely and went to follow him out. Tom however wouldn’t have that and instead he took my hand and tucked it around his arm. This man, I can’t even begin to deal with him. If only he wasn’t so nice. That would make it easier.

“Welcome! I’m so glad to have you both!” Neil stood from behind his desk on the bright stage as they stepped on. “I’ve got Tom Hiddleston and Monica Martin from the new film ‘Before Dawn’ here with me today. Gosh, it’s so good to have you both here.”

Neil shook Tom’s hand and pulled him into a quick hug, clapping him on the back before turning his attention to me with a whistle. I always hated how I felt like a piece of meat on these type of shows.

“You look amazing, Monica. Doesn’t she look great, Tom?”

“Thank you.” I hated how my face felt warm as Tom took a moment to eye me as if he hadn’t seen me pacing around the room for the last 20 minutes or so. He was such a good actor that he could almost convince me that he was impressed with the little blue dress I wore when he agreed.

After being pulled into a hug I took my place on the couch next to Tom. Heat radiated off of him and I tried to ignore it. I really did. It was just as hard to try and ignore how good he smelled. But I had to try. I had to somehow survive this interview and the rest of the press tour.

“Now, Monica- You’ve made a bit of a splash with your role as Mary. This is your first major break, isn’t that right?”

I nodded but Tom answered before I could find my voice. “She’s amazing in it.”

“Thank you.” Don’t blush. Don’t blush. I’m blushing.

“Now you’ve both been working very close during filming. What’s it like working with someone as well known as Tom?” There was no way to avoid answering that question myself. When the weight of Tom’s hand settled on my knee I took a deep breath to try and steady my voice. He gave what I’m sure he thought was a reassuring squeeze. All it did was send butterflies into a frenzy inside my stomach.

“Tom’s been amazing to work with.” I freaking gush and it’s hard not to cringe at how fan girl I sound. “He’s been so kind and patient with me.”

“Such glowing praise.” Neil opened two envelops of and pulled out stacks of cards as Tom laughed and fidgeted in his seat. Even when he is fidgeting he looks good and I hate him for it. Or at least, I want to.

“We’re going to play a game.” Neil announces to us and frankly I hate games.

“A game?” I parrot back dumbly and instantly wish I could just keep my mouth closed. Games on shows like this were never a good thing.

“I’m going to give you a stack of cards with tweets on them about Tom.” Neil reached out with a stack of cards over his desk and reluctantly I take them.

“Oh gosh.” As I take the cards I can’t help but laugh. I don’t want to play this game.

“After he’s going to read some about you.” Tom snags his envelop with his stack of cards still inside.

“This will be fun.” He says as he laughs and it’s not fair that his laugh sounds that good.

“Go on, let’s get started!” Neil sits back in his office chair behind his desk to enjoy the show.

“They could make a movie of Tom Hiddleston just drinking tea and I’d fucking watch it.” I couldn’t help but laugh after I finished reading the tweet. “You wouldn’t be alone.” I admit.

“Would you watch it?” Tom nudged my shoulder with his as he laughed.

“I’ve seen you drink plenty of tea already, thank you.” He pouted and I laughed harder at him because what else can you do? “Okay next one. ‘Tom Hiddleston could run me over on his run and I’d suck his dick.’ Well that escalated.” I laugh and look to Tom. “Please never run me over during your morning runs?”

“I promise not to!” We both seemed to be working hard to ignore the fact that I just had to say ‘I’d suck his dick’. I mean- that’s what the tweet said but still. There was a blush on his face and I’m sure I looked no better.

“Oh god.” I laugh before reading the next one. “Tom could not shower for six months and I’d still let him fuck me.”

“What?” He couldn’t stop laughing. “I’m worried about this person. Value yourself. Know your worth. Insist on regular showering.”

“I’d not let you near me if you haven’t showered in even a few days. I know how you sweat after your runs.”

“They are just getting worse and worse.” Tom was fidgeting more and more. He took his glasses off and cleaned them at least three times since we have started and in general he was simply not sitting still.

“Tom could-” my laughter cut off the words. “Tom could bend me over and.. I can’t read this. I- Nope.” I tapped out as Tom snagged the last paper from me.

“Oh dear.” He said sternly. “I think I’d like to try this.”

I could have died when he winked at me and slipped the paper into his pocket. What the hell did that even mean!? Who did he want to try that with? Why did I care? Oh right, because he’s fucking beautiful and sweet and sexy and the idea of him doing what was written on that paper was so out of left field.

I mean really, Handcuffs? Bent over a counter? Mirrors? That’s not exactly light weight naughty in my book and while it totally would fit the character he played in ‘Before Dawn’ I didn’t expect that out of him. And why for the love of god and all that is holy did he wink at me?! Why the hell did I feel like I was on fire? Am I on fire?

“You still with us Monica?” Neil’s voice cut through my thoughts and oh fuck, I zoned out thinking about Tom and handcuffs. It’s a good thing I’m not a man because there would be some damning evidence on cable TV of where my thoughts went.

“Yeah sorry!” This could be easily brushed off, right?

“Where did you go?” Tom asked and I wanted to kill him, I really did.

“Oh, just you know.” Great. Classy. Good job Monica. Way to go. Could I make it any more obvious? Someone stop me.

“Well you’re done for now. I’ll let you off the hook. See, that wasn’t such a bad game!” Neil laughs as he motions to Tom. “Tom’s turn to start reading.”

“Oh god.” The groan comes out before I could stop it as he pulls out the cards.

“Monica’s got that girl next door you’d like to bone thing going on.” Tom reads before laughing. “None of the girls next door looked half as good as she does. Where did this fellow grow up? I should have lived there.”

I try not to blush. It’s just an act and it’s what’s expected of him. Still, it’s hard not to have butterflies when someone like him agrees with something like that.

“Whatever.” The word is mumbled and I did mean to say it.

“Whatever?” There is a hint of challenge in Tom’s voice. “I’m serious.”

I try and deflect with fidgeting and laughing. It works for him, it could work for me, right? Yeah, no. I’m pretty sure I’m not selling the fidget look like he does. He had to plan his fidgeting. That’s the only way it could come off so well for him. That made sense, right?

“Next up! We’ll do a few more then switch again. They get better and better.” Neil urged and I was worried.

“Okay, okay.” Tom relented and I could feel the seat of the couch shift as he moved to try and get comfortable. “’I’d like to put Monica up on that counter and eat her like a sweet potato pie.’ Wow.” It was weird seeing Tom as a loss for words. His cheeks burned and the blush looked good on him.

“That’s… I’m never going to eat sweet potato pie again.” I force out as I tried to act like I was okay with strangers saying that to me. As if they hadn’t been screaming those things at me since I was 13.

“I’ve never had sweet potato pie and now I…” Shaking his head, Tom fidgeted more, loosening his tie as Neil laughed. It was entertaining for him and for the masses. Our ‘fans’ would eat up our discomfort and we’d play it off as if it was nothing because we are ‘actors’ and we’re ‘public commodities’.

“Next, next.” Neil urged.

“Monica could take a strap on and wreck my ass and I’d thank her.” Tom cleared his throat. “Well now. Perhaps these thoughts are better kept to oneself.”

I tried to laugh and something managed to come out of me. The look Tom gave me made me think he didn’t believe I found it funny at all. He’d be right about that. I wanted nothing more than for this interview to be over.

“Moving on.” I was thankful he didn’t want to dwell on that one. I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye after him reading these things about me. “Monica is so hot I’d like to...”

“What?” Tom’s voice trailed off and his whole body seemed to stiffen next to me. It was confusing and I couldn’t understand what was going on.

“I’m not reading this filth.” Tom ripped the stack of papers in half before stacking them and ripping them again.

“Hey now, don’t be like that. It’s just a game.” Neil was clearly caught off guard by Tom’s reaction. I was as well, to be honest.

“Actually, no. I will be like this. I laughed and played along while you made her read inappropriate things said about me but I’ll not subject her to hearing such filth about her. Further, the things I am being asked to read about her are significantly worse than what you asked her to read of me.” Waving the stack of ripped papers at the desk. “This game is bloody disgusting. No one should be spoken about by strangers in such a way as they are speaking of her. No one.”

“Now, we didn’t mean any offense. It was just a fun little game.” Neil back peddled as Tom stood. His back was straight and his shoulders back. It was an impressive sight that made my breath catch in my lungs.

This wasn’t in the plan. We knew what sort of games Neil liked to play on his show. The only surprising thing was Tom’s reaction. It made no sense to me. Why was he acting like a noble and why the hell am I picturing him on a white horse sweeping in to save me.

My internal rambling is cut short when he reached back and plucked my hand up. With a firm tug he pulls me to my feet and I go willingly enough. What the hell is going on?

His grip was warm and firm and good god was his hand large. I wanted him to always hold my hand like this. Looking back, Neil was protesting and trying to salvage the situation but it was clear our interview was over. Tom pulled the microphone off and snagged mine off as well before tossing them both onto the couch behind us.

“Don’t worry, the fallout will land mostly on me.” Tom’s blue eyes turned back on me as he marched forward, pulling me along behind him even still by the hand.

“Tom?” Finally I was able to get control over my feet and plant them on the linoleum in the hall. He’d managed to make it a good ways dragging me behind him. “Why did you do that? What the hell?”

“I...” His voice tapered off and I was stuck watching as he fidgeted more. It really wasn’t fair how good he looked as he raked his fingers through his disheveled curls.

“You what?” I didn’t mean to snap at him, honest.

“I won’t act like I’m okay with people saying those things about you.” That made no sense. It comes with the job. Hell, it comes with being a damn woman.

“Why?” A sigh rips itself through my chest. “It’s not like you have a reason to care.”

“I beg your pardon?” The look in his eyes gave me pause. It was fierce and strong and sharp. He still had my hand in his iron tight grip. “I have every bloody reason to care.”

“I don’t understand?” Look at me, I’m clearly following what is going on here. Actually no, no I’m not. Because what it seems like is going on here is that I’ve lost my damn mind. Either that or Tom-

Never did he let go of my hand. That sticks out in my mind. Don’t judge me, it all happened so fast. One moment he was looking at me with that fierce look and the next his other hand was resting on my neck and pulling me toward him. I came willingly enough. How could I not? My whole brain seemed to stop working as he leaned down.

“Maybe you’ll understand this.” What does that even mean? Oh- Oh that’s what he means.

His lips were warm and soft. I could feel the scratch of his stubble against my face as his warm breath fanned out over me. He stepped forward and I blindly allowed him to lead me. How could I not? Part of me was scared that if I dared to open my eyes this would have been some crazy dream.

My back met the wall and that snapped me back to reality. When the hell did I put my hand on his chest? Why the hell am I running it up and wrapping it around his neck? What the fuck is going on? He pulled back, giving us some space between us and I gasped for air.

“Forgive me, that was very forward. I just-”

“Do it again.” I demanded even as I pulled him to me. “Do it again if you meant it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. As his lips molded themselves against mine again I took a quick moment to mentally thank god and Neil for the Thirsty Tweets game.

Tag list for Tom: @dangertoozmanykids101, @alexakeyloveloki, @theoneanna, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @j-u-s-t-4, @winterisakiller, @wegingerangelica

Want in on future tags? Drop me a line and let me know what type of stories you’d like to be tagged in and I’ll add you to the list. I write for Tom and marvel. 

[mymelonerboner]

It’s Pink Season! - Chapter 2 - A JoJo OC Fanfic

(i should preface this by giving this fic some context – this fic took four OCs of four different people (one of them is me!) from a JoJo discord server that i hold especially dear to my heart. i set myself the challenge of taking these characters from wildly different imaginations and trying to piece together a cohesive story where they all interact with each other. to the owners of these OCs, i hope i’ll do them justice. this fic is estimated to last 4/5 chapters, and depending on my free time, maybe i’ll do something like this again with more OCs from other people, who knows :) anyways hope you guys enjoy what i’ve got so far!)

Rémi - belongs to Quality Queen @qualitiddy

Kyra - belongs to Kyrare @kyrare

Claudia - belongs to Sweet Kurage @sweetkurage

Francis Miller - belongs to meee! @mymelonerboner

Chapter 2 Word Count: 2,194

—————————— 

*     *     *     CHAPTER 2     *     *     *

"LA VACHE! SHUT UP! I'M TRYING!" 

Rémi swung the wheel hard to the right, but screeches and smoke gave away the fact that it wasn't going to be quite enough. Kyra had to act fast. She gritted her teeth in frustration as she braced herself for an undoubtedly painful experience.

"STEEL PANTHER!"

From her torso, the upper body of a feline figure emerged. Dark metallic silver glinted with ferocious animosity against a panther-like physique as the figure stretched its metal wings out, letting out a guttural hiss. Kyra's stand pressed one paw against the dashboard of the sedan, before phasing another paw through the floor of the car, contacting the speeding asphalt of the road below it. Kyra hissed in pain as she felt the sensation of the asphalt scraping against her stand's palm.

In a split second, the sedan burst with a light blueish glow surrounding the whole vehicle, before the pulsating light flowed straight into the point of the ground that the phantom panther was pressing its paw against. With a deafening crack, the asphalt below the sedan broke into pieces, nudging the sedan ever so slightly more to the right, and the sedan seemed to slow down tremendously, as though most of the energy of the hurtling car just vanished, like water spilled from a cup. It was enough to make the sedan brush past the mysterious figure on the motorcycle.

Right after, the sedan slammed head first into something solid behind the motorcycle, denting the bonnet of the car.

"I'M TRY- FUCK! OW!" Rémi shrieked as his head jolted into the SPW-branded Super-Deluxe-High-Comfort™ airbags of the sedan. Kyra sighed in relief. Whatever it was they hit, she managed to divert enough energy in time to make the crash relatively mild.

But what was it that they hit?

Kyra peered through the slightly cracked windshield. There was nothing in front of the car. It was as though the bonnet was dented by some invisible pole.

The trio crawled out of the damaged sedan, each eyeing the mysterious biker with caution. The gleam of the biker's helmet visor masked their face and gave them an aura of anonymous danger. The helmet, from afar, somewhat resembled the look of a brown aviator hat with goggles. Kyra shot a glance at the others. A slight swarm of mist was already forming and circling around Rémi's feet in defensive anticipation. Claudia wore a look of terrified concern.

"What quick wits ya have, Kyra Furyia." An unfamiliar, male voice rasped from the biker. With a quick gesture from the biker, the seemingly empty space in front of the damaged sedan bonnet suddenly appeared to melt and morph into a slightly dented lamppost. "If you were just a split second slower, you fellas would've been totalled by that crash."

"Why thank you, kind gentleman." Kyra shot back in pompous sarcasm. "You know my name. That means you've done your research. I think it's safe to assume you know about our stand powers too."

The biker chuckled. "Not bad, cat lady. You're right, I know all about your stand, Steel Panther, and its energy redirection powers." He lifted a gloved finger towards Rémi. "I also know about you, Rémi Martin, and your copying ability. However…" The biker slowly cocked his head towards Claudia. "This girl… don't think I've seen her before. She a stand user?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Rémi spat. "I'll tell you this much, helmet - you're not very good at hiding your powers. I've already figured out how your stand works."

Kyra lifted a brow. Already?

"Kyra, look." Rémi pointed at a green-themed restaurant just a few meters away. "The invisibility, the unfamiliar surroundings… there must be only one explanation." Kyra peered at the restaurant and read the large, white block letters right above its entrance.

Five Guys!

"You're right, Rémi!" Kyra gasped. "I've never seen a green Five Guys in my life. Wow, this was way easier than I thought." Kyra smirked as she lifted a metal-clawed finger towards the biker. "Good sir, your stand ability… is to change the colour of objects, isn't it?"

The biker snorted. "Congratu-fucking-lations, you guys have eyes." With a grandiose wave of the hand, he gestured to the all the wrongly-coloured walls, windows and pavements surrounding the trio. 

"Isn't it funny how much we people depend on colour? When you see a car drive past you, your first thought is never gonna be 'Oh, that was a flat-topped car', or 'Oh, that was a Volkswagen'. More likely, you're gonna go 'Oh, that was a blue car'. Same thing applies for many things. Animals, buildings, walls… it's the first way you recognise something. Mess with colour a little and suddenly everything looks foreign. It's evolution, y'see. Colour has been the warning system for predators and prey since the dawn of eyeballs. It tells you what's food, what's poison, what's danger, what's safety. Colour is everywhere."

In a seamless motion, a figure emerged from behind the biker. Humanoid in appearance, but coloured head to toe in a brilliant pink hue, skin as smooth as rubber with vastly contrasting, bizarre patterns strewn across its body in random spots like lazy patchwork, all made with different hues of pink, purple and magenta. It donned what looked like the apron of a painter, and where there should be forearms, instead there were what looked like two paintball guns attached directly at the elbows.

"My name is Francis Miller, and my stand, Pink Season, can control the colour of any object it shoots!" 

Kyra couldn't hold back an impudent snort. "Colour. Colour. Well gee fuckin' golly, I'm *dye*ing to know how dangerous that's gonna be." She cackled at her joke. "Whatcha' gonna do, paint me to death? Mulberry sunburst my ass into- OW FUCK!"

With lightning speed reaction time, Kyra used a metal claw to slice through a paintball that was hurtling right into her abdomen at mach speed. The capsule split into two, splattering a dark blue hue against her torso, leftover shell debris scraping her green sweater and leaving minor tears. 

"...Well, that was huemiliating." Kyra smirked through her panting.

"This is bad! That stand has long-range capabilities." Rémi gritted his teeth. "Claudia, stick close. Those paintballs look dangerous at that speed."

"Hey prick, you better turn this shit on my sweater back to green right now!" Kyra hissed as she picked up a discarded beer can on the ground with one hand and pressed her other hand, shielded with her armour-like paw-glove, against a nearby lamppost. The lamppost flickered on and off momentarily, emitting a yellowish glow from its steel base which flowed into the beer can. Blue sparks began to fly out of its aluminium skin. With the proficiency of a pitcher, she flung the charged beer can straight towards the biker. The biker didn't move a muscle, simply silently watching as the beer can sped closer towards him.

Only for the can to narrowly missed the biker's visor by an inch. It tumbled against the ground behind him, letting out a loud electrical discharge as it contacted a manhole cover.

Wha… That was impossible. Kyra never missed a target. Countless years of intensive training assured her of that. She took everything into account, wind velocity, wrist posture, amount of centrifugal spin…

Francis burst into an obnoxiously raspy, wheezing laugh. "What magic some simple contouring and shading can do! I coloured the walls and road in between us to look like I was just a bit further from you than I actually was. I know your modus operandi, Kyra! I knew you would try that move!"

Optical illusions!? Shit! This is bad. 

Francis was still wheezing and hacking from his half-laugh-half-choking. "You had the fucking balls to underestimate me. But now I know somethin', Kyra. You may have the sharp senses of a cat, but your eyes are still human. You're weak to my power! PINK SEASON!" And with a wild gesture, both the biker and his stand slowly began to melt into thin air, splotches of nothingness spreading like an oil spill across their whole bodies. In a matter of seconds, they both completely vanished. In alarm, Kyra backed up to where Rémi and Claudia were huddled, eyes peeled on the surroundings for the invisible biker.

"Rémi! Look out!" Claudia exclaimed. Rémi's eyes widened, bracing himself for an attack. He drew a breath, preparing his spiritual energy.

"IMITATION OF LIFE!"

And with that cry, light greyish wisps of mist gushed out from Rémi's feet, swirling around in front of him and taking on a vaguely humanoid shape. At where its "head" should be, two large, beady, solid red eyes flitted open, glowing with a brilliant ruby hue. This misty form lightly planted a "palm" against the asphalt road with a feather's touch, and immediately, the coarse, hardened, blackened texture of the asphalt spread up the misty shape's "arm" and across its "chest", eventually encapsulating its entire "body". Upon completion of this transformation, the now hardened figure disassembled itself into a cloud of rocky particles, swarming around the body of Rémi, before settling against his skin and body to form an asphalt suit of armour, complete with a dark-grey-tinged translucent facemask that still displayed his face well enough.

Split seconds after this asphalt armour settled, Rémi was immediately hit across the left check with a speeding paintball, splattering a vibrant green colour against his asphalt exterior, starkly contrasting its dull blackish look. The force of the paintball was enough to make Rémi's head jerk to the side in a dizzying way.

"Woah! You alright kid?" Kyra exclaimed.

"I'm fine! I activated my stand in time." Rémi cracked his neck to soothe the pain of the concussion. "More importantly, that shot revealed his location! I know where to attack now!" With a roar, Rémi darted into the direction the paintball came from.

"Wait, no! Slow down!" Claudia called out to him.

Suddenly, Rémi dropped down through the seemingly solid ground with a surprised shriek. In instinctive panic, he managed to catch a grip on the edge of the "hole" with his asphalt fingers.

"Rémi!" Both Kyra and Claudia screamed after him.

A raspy voice from the thin air broke into an ugly chortle. "I removed that manhole's cover in advance and coloured its interior to match the road. I knew you two had close-range type stands. One of you guys were gonna try to bumrush me, so I just positioned myself in front of that hole. You think I'd be some kinda dumbass to just give away my position like that?"

With some effort, Rémi pulled himself out of the manhole and hurried back to the group, eyes darting about wildly as he tried to figure out where Francis was going to strike next. Kyra narrowed her eyes at him, then at Claudia. It was Claudia she was worried about the most. Her defensive capabilities were practically null. There was only one reason Francis still hadn’t targeted her yet, and it was because he still didn’t know what she could do. 

Kyra shifted her focus to Francis, or wherever she was wildy guessing he was going to be. He was cunning. He was prepared. He even had traces of tar on his clothes to mask his scent against the road. Kyra bit her lip in frustration, admitting in a pit of her heart that Francis was right, and she had underestimated him. It wasn’t just a matter of controlling colours, it was a matter of controlling perception. To not even know whether you can trust your own eyes… Is there any way to defeat such a stand user? Any way to even land a blow on this bastard, if you can’t even tell where he’s-

“Rémi! Two meters to your left, eight o’ clock!” Claudia suddenly yelled, pointing to an empty space next to Rémi. Kyra widened her eyes. Dia, how the fuck!?

Rémi wasted no time. Without missing a heartbeat, he leaped to where Claudia had directed and with a cry, slammed an asphalt fist straight into the empty space. A loud, satisfying thud resonated as Francis flew backwards from the rocky impact straight into his visor, shards of fortified glass, plastic and multicoloured dye mixed with blood spurting into the air as his camouflage wore off. Kyra let out a yelp of triumph mixed with confusion as she watched the biker and his stand tumble backwards against the road.

But it was far from over. The biker shuddered, and slowly but surely propped himself up. Through one cracked lens of the helmet visor, he eyed the young Spanish girl with a look of murderous intent.

“Y...you saw through it. You, girl… Claudia, was it? You saw through my optical illusions…” Francis hacked out a blob of spit and blood against the road. “I was wondering how you kept warning your friends of my moves. You… you are a stand user after all.” His cold gaze trailed from Claudia to her surroundings, the buildings, the road, the sky.

And in his visible eye, there was a gleam of realisation, and then triumphant satisfaction.

*     *     *     END OF CHAPTER 2     *     *     *

[thefanficmistress]

Because, I Love You: Requested ☆

Requested by @deepestfirefun - I love you soooooo damn much. My soul sister across the pond.  Requested: You have broken up with your fiancé because you found out he was a total womanizer and it was quite the nasty break up too. You left your apartment, only took what you needed without looking back. Richard, your good friend heard about it while he was filming the Ocean´s 8 and without a second thought took you under his wings. You were an utter mess emotionally but spending time with Richard started to heal your wounded heart although you didn´t feel like trusting men ever again, except for Richard. He was furious to your ex-fiancé when he learned what had happened, he had been always very caring and protective of you. And while Richard did everything to make you feel better, you started to wonder if it had been Richard all along who you should have started a relationship with.

Warnings: Fluff, Swearing, Smut Pairing: Richard Armitage x Reader, Richard Armitage x Female Character, Richard Armitage x OC Context © me _______________ TAG LIST: @deepestfirefun​ @shikin83​ @catthefearless​ @patanghill17​ @aelinninielelain​ @xxbyimm​ @nowiloveandwilllove​ @nellindreams​ @hails270105​ @armitages-gisborne​ @jassy2101​ @abiwim​ @anemiechen​ @nelswp​ @vaneaustation @fizzyxcustard @purplerain85 @armitageadoration @princecami @princess-of-erebor1992 @leah-halliwell92 @vaneaustin @nelswp @nellindreams @raindrops-on-roses142  Please let me know if you would like to be tagged. 

_______________

Current Requests: JANUARY - Closed @purplerain85 ( A Kiss in the Wild ) - RA Request : Release 1/6/2019 @deepestfirefun ( Because I love you ) - RA Request - Release date : 1/13/2019 @nowiloveandwilllove ( My Friend, My Beloved ) - RA Request - Release date: 1/20/2019 @deepestfirefun  ( WORKING TITLE ) RA Request - Release Date :1/27/2019

Current Requests: FEBRUARY - OPEN

2/3/2019  - @purplerain85 (  WORKING TITLE ) - RA Request 2/10/2019 - @deepestfirefun  ( WORKING TITLE ) - RA Request 2/17/2019 - Open 2/24/2019 - Open

Message me if you would like a FanFic Sunday Request. ________________ “What did you just say?” You questioned, almost dropping your phone in your lap. “Move in with me. At least until you get back on your feet.” He proposed. “I can’t ask you to do that. Not for me!” You exclaimed. “Yes you can! I’m offering. Happily, might I add.” Richard cooed on the other side of the phone, with a hint of a smile in his tone.  Sitting in your car, with your hand on the steering wheel, you thumbed your thumb against the leather coating. You thought about his offer. He lived only a few minutes from your office, near central park, and the best thing was, he would be there. He was currently out of town but assured you that he would be back in a few days to continue filming Ocean’s 8 and he would make sure to take you out to get your mind off of things. After a break up, it’s best to be around family and friends. Richard was definitely a great friend to be around. He’s kind, and generous, a bit of goofball, but he always found a way to make things up to you or put a smile on your face.  “I haven’t seen you in months, and I hate to tell you this, but I’m not taking no for an answer.” He added. “Richard, I honestly can’t do this. I need to be by myself.” “I’m not going to let that happen. I’m rather vexed at the entire matter, and if he shows up, I will have him thrown out or arrested.” His voice went very deep. A side of him you hadn’t heard before. Was that protection and anger in his voice? He wasn’t lying. Since you started dating Ethan, Richard and you had a hard time seeing each other. He was always out of town or too busy to actually spend proper time; he did however meet you for those 1-2 hr lunches before leaving or sent presents to you loft to apologize for not being able to make it. Also, to make matters worse, despite the fact that Richard was always so kind, and polite to your fiancée, Ethan didn’t like Richard. It showed in how possessive he was, not allowing Richard to be alone with you, be next to you, or even on the phone with you for a long period of time. Maybe Ethan could sense that under your guise as a friend, you did have feelings for Richard. You at one point convinced yourself that you were in love with him, and you needed to tell him. But with his schedule, you saw how difficult it was, and then realized it’s you. Richard wouldn’t be into you when he had many women around him. You had to back off in order to try to make the new relationship work. So, you put a lid on your feelings and said nothing. You were friends. Just friends. Ethan on the other hand… “Where are you right now?” He asked. “Siting in my car outside of The Hyatt.” You replied looking around at your surroundings. The Hyatt was a stunningly. Beautiful hotel in New York, and you were outside at the valet parking deciding on if you should go in or not. The streets were still busy for 3am, but it was The Big Apple, and this place never sleeps. It had rained earlier, and the streets glistened with the glow and flickering of the traffic lights. Restaurants and bars still open along the strip, and people gathered hand in hand walking and laughing. You wish you could laugh, but Ethan stole that from you months ago, and now you sit here alone, in your car in your flat shoes, and night gown. You had to pack a bag with enough clothes to last you a few days. Ethan was leaving for Hong Kong for work, and that would be the best time to get your belongings, and never see him again.  “Please don’t sleep there, just go to my penthouse, we will figure out the rest.” He insisted. You knew that doing this, moving in with Richard, no matter how long you would be there, would piss Ethan off. And you honestly wanted to hurt him. Maybe not the same way he hurt you, but still hurt him nonetheless. “Are you sure about this?” “Very.” “Okay!” You conceded, “Thank you.” “Anything for you dove.” “Anything?” You sang sweetly, with hit of a smile on your face. “Absolutely anything.” He gushed over the phone.  You pulled at a piece of thread on your nightgown, and blushed hard. Even from thousands of miles away, he knew how to make you swoon with just his voice and words. If he was in front of you and said that, it would have taken the force of an army to hold you back from kissing him. The way those words came out of his mouth stirred something inside of you that hadn’t been touched in months, but you could focus on that right now. You needed to get out of this car.  “Head on over, I’ll call ahead, and make sure everything is taken care of.” “Thank you again, Richard.” “No need to thank me. I need you safe, and sound in our flat. I’ll see you in a few days, yeh?” He stated. “Yea ok. You said your goodbyes and headed over to his flat. After pulling into the Richards visitor spot under his flat building, you gather your things, and end upstairs to the 21st floor. Once you exit the elevator you are thrown off by the very large gift basket sitting in front of the door. You put your bag down and kneel to read the note left on top.  *** To: The most beautiful woman in the world. From: The luckiest man in the world to have you in his life <3 Get some rest and enjoy the basket. You deserve it, and if I have to, I will send you more to keep a smile on your face until I get there. Yours always, Richard *** You smiled so hard, and pulled the note to your chest for a moment, as if you wanted to absorb the words into your very heart. You see another little baggy with the keycode to get into his flat, and you make your way in taking the bag and basket inside. 

You flick on the light upon entering the foyer, a grand entertaining gallery opens into a living room and formal dining room with raised ceilings, accentuated by a dramatic glass skylight. You decided to look around the penthouse to get used to the surroundings. The room has been decorated to the highest standards with custom doors, wood-work cabinetry, and beveled glass to enhance the breathtaking views. A custom-carved stairway, wood-paneled elevator, beautifully-appointed powder room, and spacious closets are located just off the gallery. Adjacent to the formal dining room and located along Central Park is a tastefully designed eat-in kitchen with top-of-the-line appliances.

The 21st floor featured a luxurious master suite with a fireplace, terrace, and large sitting room. A magnificent master bathroom with bookmarked slabs of marble, two showers, two private water closets and two separate vanity sinks complete this space. The suite also included multiple fitted closets and a whimsical loggia with a wet bar along the terrace. Two additional south-facing bedrooms, two redesigned en-suite baths, an elegant study with terrace access and an automated Crestron system for lighting, shades and music. The 21st floor included a service entrance which you came in through seeing that Richard had the key to the main entrance elevator.  “No wonder he doesn’t go out. He has everything he needs here.” You said to yourself, as you made your way back to the door to gather your things. You walked into the master bedroom and placed the basket on the bed. You finally opened the clear wrapping and started to pull out each item. Bath bombs, candles, wine, scented lotions, and oils. There was a silken pink night gown, with matching sleeping mask. Then a box of assorted chocolates, and your favorite box of perfume.  A little while later, after a hot shower, and two glasses of wine, you climb into Richards bed, and cover yourself with the thick black blanket. Your phone buzzed, and you picked it up to see that Richard sent you a photo and text. he sent you a gif of his face smiling, and blowing you a kiss, then saying goodnight. You send him a text back saying goodnight and thanking him again before you placed it back on the nightstand. As you fell asleep your mind thought of pleasant things. Such as now being able to start your life over without Ethan. Perhaps with someone great. Someone like Richard.  “Why am I not with you?” Was the last words that slipped from your lips before passing out. _____ See, this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. You were supposed to find a guy, fall in love, get married, have children and live out your lives together. Old, holding hands and maybe, just maybe dying together in your sleep. But your life didn’t work out so luck that way. Time after time you had to fight for what you wanted, and when you thought you had it, life kicked you down again. Here you sat on the cold tile floor in the bathroom, in the dark holding your fiancés phone.  The painful reality that he wasn’t who you thought. Your jaw clinched, the burning in your eyes began, and you turned the phone on. You had to know. You read every single one of the texts that he sent them. Every detail about what he wanted to do to them, and what he wanted them to do to him. How he couldn’t stop thinking of them, and how they were the only thing he ever wanted. He even said I love you to a few of them. They begged for him to dump you, and he said that he would, but he was waiting for the right time. He couldn’t even bother changing up his texts, they were the same lines, repeatedly. The same dick pics and fantasy. The only thing that seemed to change was the location to meet them for dinner, or the hotel room he would rent out for the day for his “Client Meetings”   You turned the phone off and gripped your chest, right at your heart. You dug your nails into your skin until it hurt, but it would never compare to the pain you felt that spread through your body like a raging fire. It scorched every nerve in your body, and you began to shake. Your eyes burned and when you could hold on no longer you let out a scream that could have cracked glass, and you threw his phone against the wall. It shattered.  Once that first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. You bent forward, pressed your palms to the floor, you began to cry with the force of a person vomiting on all fours.

You heard footsteps running up to the door.

“(y/n) are you ok? What was that noise?” A male voice said on the other side. “Just go away” you said, the words slipping from your lips so softly that only you could have heard it, but you secretly wish he did. You continued to cry, your fingers digging into the black cloth of the bathmat. You felt sick to your stomach. The ache in your heart was too much to bare. “(y/n) answer me!! What is going on? I am beginning to worry!” The voice said again, wiggling the door knob a few times. “Go the fuck away!” You managed to raise your head up and yelled. “Just leave, get out! I don’t want you here anymore!” You turned your body to the toilet now, lifting the lid, and prepared yourself for what was about to come up. “(y/n) What?! What are you talking about? “He yelled back, banging on the door.  “Open up! What happened?” he pressed again, his voice very concerned and urgently searching for a reason why you would react this way. “I hate you.” You said softly into the toilet. You shook your head because you knew you had to throw up, and the rage that was building in your gut was making its way to your chest. The kind of rage that was instant and all you needed was the final push. The door knob started to shake violently, and then the door started to bang as if something was being pushed against it. With a loud BANG the door was forcefully opened, and Ethan came stumbling in, the wall across from the door catching him. He looked around the bathroom and saw his phone on the ground, and then looked up at you. “What is going on? It’s 4 o’clock in the morning, and you’re screaming.” He said as he bent down and picked up his phone examining the broken pieces. “I had work and clients on here, and you break it?” “Right! Work and clients “You quoted with your fingers. “I am sure your clients needed a picture of your fucking dick for their legal troubles. I guess you’re a full-service kind of lawyer. “you proclaimed, as you rose to your feet. You took a few steps closer to him. His face went completely white and he swallowed hard. His eyes shifted over to the right of you unable to look in your eyes and there it was. The shame or was it guilt. Either way he knew that this was it for him. “(Y/N)” He started, but you cut him off. “Who is Emily?” You shoved him back “Rhonda?” You shoved him again. “Dianna?” You asked pushing him one last time, this time harder and he was backed into the corner and could see his jaw tighten. “Oh, and my favorite, your fucking secretary Bridgette.” You smiled and shook your head. “I knew it. I knew it.” You stressed, your voice starting to shake with the buildup of anger, and more tears. “They mean nothing to me. Not like you. “Ethan said calmly to you. His eye contact making his words seem sincere. Was he telling the truth?  Maybe, but it was too late. That trust had already been destroyed. “You’re a fucking liar.”  You walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom you shared. You walked to the other side of the room to get away from him. It was too much. You always had a feeling that something was right about him, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You grabbed your bag from the closet, and started throwing clothes in them, cussing and yelling as you stuffed many items in it. You weren’t even sure what it all was, but the more that you put in that bag was the more you were close to getting out of there. Ethan tried to grab you to talk things out. Grabbing your arm, you pulled it away, he grabbed both of your wrists to calm you and to pull you into his chest, but you pushed him away repeatedly You took a shirt and hit him with it and he held his hands up grabbing the fabric in the air, twisting it around his hand and yanked you close to him. “Please calm down, we can talk about this.” He held you firmly to him, looking at you dead in your eyes, not even blinking. Was he terrified of losing you? Was he scared of what his life would be like without you? You fought more against his grip. “Would you stop! He yelled, “and fucking listen to me! They mean nothing to me! I want to marry you and be with you!” You looked closer into his eyes and saw that they were glazing over. Was he about to cry? Was he actually upset that he hurt you? For a brief moment, you settled down, and lowered your guard for a moment.

“I love you.” He said, releasing the grip on your wrist since he must have felt your nerves calm. “There is nothing to freak out about. My heart belongs to only you.” He said, leaning in closer to your face. “I want to kiss only you…” Ba-dum

The sound of your heart echoed in your ears as he spoke those words… “ I want to marry only you..”

Ba -dum But it wasn’t the words you wanted to hear. It was the wrong words. “I am going to marry you (Y/N).” he whispered right before his lips touched yours. Those were the wrong words…. “The hell you are!” You yelled as you pushed him back, but he still held one of your wrists.  “What makes you think that I would even marry you?” You questioned as you finally yanked yourself free from his grasp. You turn and walk to the other side of the bed, snatching up your phone. Your fingers unlocked it and you started to search through it. You started muttering to yourself. “Great! I guess you’re going to call him now. Complain about me?” He gestured with his arms, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “Call who?” You questioned, going through your contacts. Richards name slowly scrolled down, and your thumb landed on his name, but Ethan had caught your attention and you looked up from the phone. “Who do you think? Richard for fuck sake. You can’t seem to just let him the fuck go can you!” Ethan said, yanking up a shirt from the side chair, and putting it on, followed by a pair of mint green pants. You always hated those pants. “He has nothing to do with this. You did this! “You proclaimed. Snatching up your keys and walking over to the night stand to grab a few more things, shoving them into the bag. “Whatever you need to tell yourself (y/n) You’re probably acting like this because you slept with him, and now you are turning a tiny indiscretion of mine into this mountain of guilt.” He gestured with is hands and body movement. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?! Are you trying to turn this around on me? You gestured pointing to yourself.

“I’m just stating the facts. You couldn’t have him, so you had to get me. You were too weak to tell him how you felt, and he didn’t care enough about you to notice you. Why would he want you? He’s famous now and can have any woman he wants and you —“ SMASH! The vase you threw at his head shattered near him. He guarded his face and moved aside and looked at you. “WHAT THE FUCK!?!? Have you lost your mind?” He yelled as he moved around the broken pieces by his feet to a clearer spot. Then you looked down to continue to pack, grabbing everything that could fit into this large duffle bag. After stuffing what you could in it, you make your way to the door. “I had to settle for a piece of shit like you.” You added onto his statement, your voice was so calm, still, but the tears filled your eyes and burned as you looked at him without blinking. “I had to lower my standards to a pathetic man child who had to feed on someone else’s insecurities to make himself feel better.” “(Y/n) wait, I didn’t mean…” he said starting to walk towards you but when he saw that you straightened your back and took a more dominate stance, he paused. “You meant every word. And I shouldn’t have said yes to marrying you when in my heart I really didn’t want to. But my family, and your family pressured me. Especially when…” You paused for a moment and looked around the room and then back at him. “When I knew I would never love you the way I love him.” Those words flew from your mouth so fast. You never thought that you would think it, let alone say it out loud. You knew instantly from the look in his eyes that they’d hit their mark. In that instant your relationship shattered into glassy shards. Nothing would ever be the same again. “We’re over!” You completed as you walked out of the door. ______ The next day you remained in the protection of your dear friend penthouse. You closed the blinds, and the curtains. You brewed some coffee, with cream, and added some caramel into the mixture as you lazily walked back to his room. You hadn’t slept so well after dreaming about the fight you had with Ethan. It was so fresh in your heart and mind. You placed the mug on the night stand and crawled back into bed. Tucking yourself into the big red and white pillows and pulled the black duck down comforter over yourself. You leaned back against the pillowed backboard, reached for the remote, twitched on the TV and flipped through the channels until you landed on the TV show FRIENDS. Tossing the remote beside you, you tried to focus on the screen before you, but your phone went off again. You struggled with the decision to pick it up. Looking from the TV back to the phone, and then back to the TV again. Then back at the phone when it went off. You reached over and picked it up. You fingered through the unlock and brought up your phone log. 14 MISSED CALLS – Ethan Hawthorne Then you saw the notifications on your iMessages. You opened it. _______________________________ ETHAN {Please pick up the phone….. } ETHAN {We need to talk!!!} ETHAN {I’m not giving up on us! I don’t care how many times I have to call you or text you! } ETHAN {Why are you acting like this? Can we just please talk?! } ________________________________ You took a deep breath and hovered your finger over delete. For a moment you thought how freeing it would be to clear these, and never reply to him, but then again, what if you did reply. What if you told him to never call or message you again? Is saying nothing, really louder than saying anything at all? Without a second thought you deleted it. You closed your eyes, and put the phone on the nightstand, but before you could fully come to terms with what you just did, you heard a knock on the door. You were expecting anyone, but when you walked to the door, you looked through the hole, and saw a bouquet of flowers. You pulled back and took a step back from the door. Maybe you shouldn’t open it, maybe you should. Ethan was smart, sending you flowers so early. You bit your bottom lip, and then another knock came to the door.  “Who is it?” You shouted. “I have a delivery for a Miss (Y/N).” the man said. “Can you leave it by the door?” You asked, walking closer to the door, and placed your hands on the wood. “I was instructed to hand it directly to her. You know….my job.” He replied. “Ok.” You sigh and open the door. As you open it, the bouquet was in full bloom in front of you. Bright red roses petals, with lush green stems. It was so large it covered the delivery guys face.  “Do I need to sign for it or something?” you ask waiting with your arms crossed in front of you. “Not really, but if you would like to pay in the form of a hug. I wouldn’t object.” He said, as his American accent changed over to the floating melody of a British purr, and as the flowers came down, it revealed the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Richard stood before you with a big smile on his face. His eyes were sparkling, and his cheeks were flushed. He was so excited to see you. You weren’t sure what came over you when you lunged forward and flung your arms around his neck, pulling him into an embrace. He chuckled and leaned down to hug you back. He squeezed you and buried he face in your hair. You heard him take a deep breath, and you could have sworn you felt the thumping of his heart against your chest. It was racing. Or was it yours? At the moment you couldn’t tell, all you knew it he was here with you. You pulled back, but held onto his shirt, while he in return placed his hand on your cheek. You leaned into the warmth of his hand smiling. Your faith in men had left you, but you knew that Richard would heal it. Someone how. Starting by showing up earlier than he said, and now pulling this stun, in his own penthouse.  “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you are here.” You stated excitedly. “But where are my manners, please come in.” you walked back over the threshold, and moved a side so that he could come in.  “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you, and in my penthouse no less.” He chimed back. Richard walked into the kitchen and placed the vase of roses on the counter top. He turned to look at you and removed his black coat and tossed it on the back of the counter. He looked around the room and shook his head. “What?” “Why is it so dark in here?” “I didn’t want any daylight in here.” “Why? A little daylight would be good for you (Y/N).” he stated as he walked across the room and to the window, he tossed the curtains opened, and the living room was flooded with golden light. He could have pushed the button that does it for him, but he was always the kind of guy to do things himself. You blocked your eyes for a moment, and then put your hands down to see Richard standing before the window with a halo of light around his head. The light caught in his beard, and he turned to look at you with glowing blue eyes. He wore a plaid shirt and dark blue jeans. A trimmed beard, and his hair combed over to one side. He looked good. Gorgeous. “Is that why you’re here? To open my blinds? You turn to Richard and hold up a cup. “Want some?” He walked over to the counter and sat down on the stool. He leaned forward and closed his hands together. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened, or am I going to have to guess?” he sounded irritated, so his voice became a bit deeper. “Richard….” you sighed as you put the first mug into place on the Keurig, you put the K-Cup in the machine, and pulled the lever down, and hit BREW. You turned, and leaned back on the counter, with your hands on both sides of you along the counter top. “Don’t make me.” “What do you want me to say? He cheated. Cheated, a lot, and I was the dumb one who fell for his shit.” You said. The buzzer went off and you turned to remove the first cup, put another in its place, and a new K-Cup, and hit BREW again. You gently placed the cup in front of Richard, and reached over to hand him sugar, and creamer. “You’re not dumb, don’t say that. He cheated, yes, but that isn’t your fault.” Richard said has he put both hands on the sides of the cup. “Not my fault!?” You chuckle just saying those words. But you always thought that it was. Maybe it was in a way. You never really fully expressed yourself or showed that you were completely into the planning of your wedding, or him even. You were just there, going through the motions, while he was there, with other women. To be honest, he wasn’t the one you wanted. You lowered your head and started to cry. You heard the stool shift across the floor and in an instant Richards hands were on you, turning you. He crouched a bit to look at you, and tilted your head up to look at him, and when you did, he straightened himself. “Open your eyes.” he said softly. His hands cupped both sides of your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears from your face. “Look at me (Y/N).” he kindly stressed.  So you did, and he was looking at you with such hope, and longing that it killed you. How can he be so calm at a time like this. How had you been so clam the past night? “I can’t do this anymore.” You weeped.  “Do what?” “Love anyone again. How an I supposed to trust someone after this?” You asked, gripping his shirt.  “It’s not going to be easy dove, but I’m here to show you that you can.”  You looked up at him, and then to his lips. You always wondered what it would be like to kiss him. You lean in close to him, and place your forehead to his chin. He lowers his head to place a kiss on it.    You didn’t want to bottle up your emotions. Sadness, obsessing, and full-blown crying fits was your way to deal with emotional upheaval, and pretending you were fine when you were not will have the same effect as a pressure cooker. So, you called out of work for the next few days, to let all your pent-up feelings loose, whether it was on your own with Celine Dion on full blast, with a box of tissues or with your best friend after two bottles of wine. And your best friend was here now, so here came the tears, and wine.

Sometime later, Richard gently rouses you from a deep slumber after you pasted out in his bed. Richard had to pick you up from the couch after the first bottle of wine. You drank the majority and like a gentlemen he let you. He tucked you in, and he settled in next to you, arm around you, and he just let you cry and cry. You complained about everything under the sun when it came to Ethan. The stupid pants he wore, to his cologne, how he said certain words, and how horrible he treated Richard.  He sat at the edge of the bed, gently stroking your hair, and shaking you awake. As you woke, it felt as though your spirit returned to your body, and you felt heavy again, but warm under the blankets. You opened your eyes to see Richard sitting there, smiling down at you. “Good morning.” He said softly, as to not shock you with his presence. “Richard?” You said, as you slowly moved the blanket from your face rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Yes, It’s me, you’re not dreaming.” He joked, rubbing your arm. “You’re here!” you cooed sleepily. “Yes, I live here. Did you drink so much you forgot?”  “I know that.” Richard smiled and looked at you for a moment. His hand moved from your arm, to move a few strands of hair from your face. His index finger grazed your cheek, and you smiled. He tilted his head a bit and studied your face. “I jumped on the first flight I could.” You moved the blanket down, and stretched your arms wide, awaiting a hug you desperately needed. He smiled and leaned in to hug you. His arms slipped under you, and he pulled you into his arms. Practically pulling you up from the bed. You buried your face in his neck, and he squeezed you in return. You relaxed in his arms, and didn’t plan on letting him go, but you wanted to reveal in his warmth and scent. You take in a deep breath and then release it slowly. “I’m just happy you’re here.” “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” He asked, as one of his hands stroked your back. “Because of your job.” “(Y/N)? Do you really think that would keep me away from you?” he asks, as he releases you and cups your face. “You know what I mean.” You say sweetly, placing your hands on his own. “Your friends break up doesn’t fall on the important spectrum when it comes to your career.” He chuckles and lets go of your face and stands up. “It’s not my career that makes all the decisions, but my heart. Time with you is all I always want, like air to a dying man.” He says, as he heads towards the bedroom door. “Which is to say that nothing would keep me from you. As selfish as that may sound.” “Richard…” you started, but he interrupts. “Now out of bed. You need to eat.” He walks out of the door. “I kind of like it here! Your bed is amazing!” You shout after him. “Then I guess I’ll bring your breakfast to you! He shouts back. You laugh to yourself and fall back into the large pillows. Your arms stretched out at your sides. The sound of breakfast for dinner sounded exciting to you. You remembered Richard’s cooking it for you whenever you both would get drunk, it was always delicious, and he always ate with you. You closed your eyes and several minutes later, you could smell the aroma coming from the kitchen. An hour later, Richard brought you the works. Freshly squeezed juice, toast with grape jam, eggs, bacon, and a bowl of grapes and honey dew. He placed it on his bed, with a giant tray, and there was enough for two people. You turned the TV on just for background noise while you both spoke, He told you the story about how after he got your call, he called his assistant and requested the next flight out of Los Angeles to New York that there was. He called ahead to the front desk and requested that you be let in, but it would have to be the servant’s entrance as he had locked the elevator to his floor. He called his other assistant in New York to find the best relaxation basket he could, and to make sure there was a sweet message from him for you. He wanted you to know that he would take care of you. When it was time for him to leave, he didn’t even pack any clothes. He grabbed his keys, phone, and wallet, and left. He didn’t have time to think, his instincts told him that you needed him, and you needed him now. On the plane he was anxious to see you, and he couldn’t wait to get out of the airport, and into the taxi to get home to you. “You didn’t have to do all of that. Did you even get any sleep?” You asked as you held the toast in your hand, looked at him.  He looked at you and reached over to wipe a piece of jam from your lips. “No. I’d been up for about 24 hrs, I believe? There was no time to think about myself. I was worried about you.” He said as he went back to eating. You sat there staring at him and you lowered the toast to your lap. Your eyes started to burn and glaze over. “Why would you do that for me? Why do anything of it?” Your voice started to shake, and you honestly tried to hold back the tears. You hated crying in front of him, and you didn’t want him to think you were a cry baby, but damn it. He was always so sweet and kind to you. Why couldn’t you be with someone like him? Why couldn’t you have been the one in this bed for years, waiting for him to come home to you. You knew that you loved him, but just the thought of him flying across country, not sleeping until you were taken care of, and happy before taking care of himself hit you hard. Richard put his food down, cleaned his mouth, and swallowed the remaining food. He looks down for a moment nodding slightly to himself, as if he was talking to himself. Like the moment you get when you are building yourself up to finally say something.  “Do you really have to ask?” He said, still looking down at nothing in particular.  “After all this.” He looks at you. “I did it because….I love you, (Y/N).” You new that it would take time, but with those words you felt the break in your heart start to heal.  END.

[itsclydebitches]

Some people do have that mindset though. Not just Mage, but artist (even tiny indie online artist, not just the mega corps) do not want others using their OC's in things. I think they have every right to think that and every right to be upset if people did that. A lot of people put hours and hours and hours into creating characters and drawings, ect. Seeing someone unrelated to you use your hard work without your permission is understandably annoying.

Yeah sadly I’ve got plenty on my plate without adding more podcasts lol. 

A lot of people have that mindset. I don’t begrudge it—our emotions are our emotions after all—but I do question it. Specifically the ‘how much?’ and the ‘why?’ As said, the majority of authors I know aren’t actually 100% against fanworks. They might claim they are, but when push comes to shove they embrace the specific ones that they approve of. The same author who is gushing over the fanart they were linked to on twitter is turning around and denouncing all of fanfic, or vice versa, or some other, infinite combination of Thing I Personally Like and Thing I Don’t. It’s the hypocrisy of “These are my OCs, I worked hard on them, no one else gets to touch them… oh, except you. I like you.” It’s the hypocrisy of, “I was raised on fandom (whether I realize it or not) creating transformative works of my own, benefiting from the community, developing my skills… but no, you’re not allowed to do the same with my own works. I reaped those benefits, you can’t.” 

Alongside the ‘how much?’ is the ‘why?’ Meaning, why are you so against people engaging in this celebration of your work? (Ignoring for the moment that complicated issue of potentially making money off of it.) A lot of authors are against fandom because they still—even today—don’t fully understand it. Transformative works are still seen as ‘stealing’ original content, as opposed to enjoying it. Original content is still seen as actually ‘original,’ as opposed to based off of a thousand things pulled from previous stories, things the author is both consciously and unconsciously using. A lot of that knee-jerk reaction comes from the feeling of “I don’t want you doing something horrible with my characters” and that definition of “horrible” is linked to all sorts of mindsets I’m personally invested in undermining. 

Like the misogynistic idea that it’s all teen girls writing “bad” stories—that’s horrible. The equally misogynistic idea that fans are shrieking women not quite connected to reality. There’s a reason Star Trek and the Beatles were only seen as phenomenal pieces of art once they went mainstream, when women were no longer the largest group praising them. There’s a reason why fandoms like Star Wars and GoT that are assumed to be male dominated can have some of the most wild, inappropriate fans around, but few bat an eye. It’s those fan girls who are horrible. Like the homophobic idea that it’s all gay and that is automatically horrible. Like the idiotic idea that it’s nothing but cringy NSFW stuff and that’s dangerous for young minds—horrible. The prudish idea that fandom has too much sex even if it is vanilla stuff and no one should have access to that information (see: lack of health education)—horrible. And that arrogant idea that I, the author, created something entirely in a vacuum and now no one else gets to engage in the creative play that allowed me to create this story in the first place. 

Fandom is radical and fandom is still, even today, pushed back against. Because it’s the domain of women. Of queer people. Of those who want to share education and creativity without a few very narrow groups deciding what’s “appropriate.”  That’s why fandom still has that knee jerk reaction to it: if fandom gets a hold of my characters then it will be Bad. When a mainstream author says they don’t want fans touching their work, I hear less “I truly believe no one should ever interact with my OC” and more “I don’t understand fandom very well. Or if I do I don’t want those people touching my characters.” Whoever those people happen to be.

(To give this all a bit of perspective—and I plan to post about this fully at some point—I’m doing a bit of surveying on fandom and gender identities among tumblr, reddit, and AO3. Of the 350 surveys I’ve currently gotten through, only 7 fans identify as cis men. Everyone else is a cis woman, transgender, agender, nonbinary, genderqueer, or some other gender identity. It’s admittedly a small sample size, but still. Fandom is made up of the very people still fighting against every -ism imaginable. That plays a part in how authors react to the possibility that their characters might now be queer, or disabled, or black, or anything else if they allow fans to start playing with them.) 

We’ve made HUGE strides in terms of normalizing fandom in mainstream culture. We’re not totally there yet though. So are there authors who truly don’t want anyone touching their work simply because of some pure sense of ownership? Probably. But I think the vast majority are basing that idea off of complicated assumptions of what fandom is, what will happen to their characters, and who deserves to transform stories (i.e. so-called professional men deserve that privilege, so-called amateur women don’t). 

…okay. That got really long lol. I’ll simplify my answer to the Nazi RWBY portion considerably: basically yes. Every community does and should have a limit, an extreme they just won’t accept. Creative freedom can exist alongside specific community guidelines (like a discord server) having a few hard and equally specific rules: “Nuh-uh, sorry, but you’re not drawing Neo as a goddamn Nazi here. Take that elsewhere.” It’s not challenging whether they can draw that—especially since Context Is a Thing—but rather challenging that this version of Nazism is not welcome in this space. 

[kusunokihimea]

                                                  [ Art || Background ]

     [ Hey y’all! So uh...while this iteration of my dinky blog isn’t three years old, I have been lurking around this site in total (for RP) for three years now, as of...technically yesterday, eh heh. And good golly there has been a LOTTA growth since then. My muses and I have come a looong way, in regards to writing, editing, and getting to know so many people over the course of three years. Some have come and gone, and some have stayed...though few since those beginning days when Sylvie had NO idea what they were doing, ha!

     And though I’ve only recently gone through my second revamp, there’s still a gaggle a’y’all that have stuck around. Some even from those very beginning days. So, I’d like to take a minute to just...gush about some of ya, cuz you’ve made being in this community fun, welcoming, and honestly like a second family to us. While I don’t have time to ramble about EVERYONE, I’m gonna do my darnedest to do as much as I can, and just...say thank you for making me able to stay this long, and have as much fun as I’ve had. It means the world to me <3

     Now, on to the ramblin’! Under a cut, cuz...it’s probably gonna get long xD Still, I’ll try to be brief so it doesn’t get too out of control, lmao ]

     [ The Fam Jam ]

     So these are the peeps that have stuck by me through thick, thin, and many blog changes xD Those who have consistently interacted with us, and have developed amazing bonds between muns and muses alike. <3

@13lilypetals - Little sib Ghost. Fellow SH trash. Also a multimuse juggler. You’ve been someone who’s become a close friend, wonderful RP partner, and a great member of the community as a whole. Keep up the awesome work!

@ascxndinggg Matt, my son, darling baby boy =P With such a creative, intelligent mind, wonderful diverse muses, and one of the few things keeping me sane both on this hellsite, and in life in general. Love you bud.

@duckbuttavenger / @cutelittlemuffins / @straycatanbu Sanjiii, such a sweetheart. I love your beans, and I love you! You’re always a blast to write with, even if we know some muses better than others. They’re all 11/10!

@despairinghxpe / @masterofwar Phoenix, omg I’m so glad you’re back. I’ve had some of my most in-depth threads with you and your boyos. I always look forward to your replies. And you’re such a darling - always a joy to talk to ooc about our beans!

@gentlegraceful-and-fatal Dani, I know you’re not on much anymore, and I hope life’s not kickin’ your butt too hard. You put so much love into your muses, and I love when they interact with mine. Here’s hoping you can creep around more soon enough x3

@frogprinceus / @redlineoffate / @red-winged-hero-hawks Omg Mitsuki where do I even start with you xD You have such a wonderful cast of muses, so many of which have bonded so wonderfully with mine. I always enjoy our interactions, no matter what combo of beans!

@flakclad I know you’re not on too much anymore Rhi, but I still love your boys (tho I think this is the only one I’m currently following after remaking, whoops). You give them such wonderful personalities, and I love writing with them any day of the week.

@yukaikokoro Another OC bean! Star oh my goodness, you’re such a great friend and writing partner - you let me drown you in all my OG verse shenanigans, and I love it xD

@twojackalsandahedgie Apricot! I’ve stalked you around through a few blogs now, haha! You’re such a sweetheart, and your muses are great. I can’t wait to see how your blog takes shape once it’s even MORE of a multimuse!

@hotmessofmuses I’ve loved all our threads, Bailey - you write all your muses so well, and I’ve been so psyched to get to interact with them, especially in the famjam verses. It’s so much fun. And good luck with all you’re doing irl!

@roaringxflames Lief dear, I know you’re not active much anymore, but I just want you to know I’ve enjoyed all of our interactions, here and on other bloggus. I hope life is treating you well, and you find greener pastures in new fandoms :3

@cinderspewed / @bitebxck Oh goodness Verona, you’re just! Such a cool person, and your muse is so dynamic and intriguing and drives my marshmallow nuts xD I hope school isn’t crushing your soul too badly, haha! Good fortune, friend!

@kyuuzuchiha / @thebubbledome / @xkaekox BOOOOO I LOVE YOUR BEANS. I know that feel about having trouble writing/catching up lately, but! No matter your pace, we love writing with you, and I hope you find your groove soon!

@quiet-kunoichi Ahaha, Jack, another fellow OC bean. I love your muse. I think you know that but just to be sure, lemme say it again. And you’re great. You’re both great. I love ya. And I hope you’re well!

@abyssaldespair Meeeg...your boyo has stolen my gorl xD We’ve had so many shenanigans since we met I can’t count them, but gosh you’re so fun to write with, and even tho you’ve abandoned me (jk, jk), I still love writing our babbs in drabbles. I will sink with this ship xD

@wanderingmelodies MEEEY I know you’re super swamped but I hope you know I love ya and your beans and I hope you get your zine work done! Good luck and stuff, and hopefully life lets up for you soon, dear!

@multicanon-rp Bruh, I love your Itachi (and I’ve seen snippets of your other beans, they’re great!). It’s been so much fun to see him and Ryū get to know each other from that initial drama. I love writing with ya!

@hushedsunflower *squints at* Who even is this nerd? Oh right, you’re the one responsible for me even being here! Not to mention one of my oldest friends, nbd =P I love your Hina, and I’m glad you’ve gotten back into RP, my friend~

     [ The Inspirations ]

     These are the ones I’ve maybe not RPed with as much as I’d like, but who inspire me to be better in my writing, my lore creation, and characterization! <3

@hyugainterior / @clanburden Your storytelling skill just...blows my mind, holy smokes. Though I miss bits and pieces, your narrative on HI has been enrapturing, and I always try to catch all the drabbles. I never know what’s gonna happen next, but I can’t look away - it’s like a beautiful, horrible car crash! With Hinata in the driver’s seat!

@sennenryuu / @raikirisms N, your OC is just...so amazingly in-depth. As someone who adores making lore and characters, yours has been one I’ve looked up to since being introduced to your blog. And don’t even get me started on your Kakashi, or how beautiful your art is, my goodness. I love it all!

@houndnin / @mactabilis A blast from the past! I know you’re uber busy so you prolly won’t see this, but omg your muses are the bee’s knees. Another well-crafted OC, and an awesome take on Kakashi. Definitely a blog that inspires me to keep improving!

@masshirohebi Oh goodness, this blog is one I’ve looked up to for a long time. You write Orochimaru so beautifully. They’re so intricate and full of life and detail. Your replies are so well put-together, it always blows me away. I know our interactions have been brief, but I’ve enjoyed them so much!

     [ The Neat Beans ]

     Those on the ‘outer fringe’ - maybe we’ve poked at each other’s muses once or twice, but we’re still workin’ on getting muses to know each other - here’s to more! <3

     ~*~ @silverfaxg ~*~ @ketsuekki ~*~ @i-minato-chan ~*~ @kotoanatsukami ~*~ @crackuzu ~*~ @the-younger-umino ~*~ @origami-goddess ~*~ @inumbratte / @willsoffire / @leafstruck ~*~

     [ The Lurkers ]

     And last (but certainly not least), the beans I’ve not really talked to, but appreciate for bein’ around nonetheless! Never be afraid to say hi <3

     ~*~ @betterhealing ~*~ @tennome ~*~ @hiramekxrei ~*~ @tentaiiled / @sandsharrk ~*~ @dirt-ninja ~*~ @strengthwilled ~*~ @silentyoru ~*~ @blossomfury ~*~ @inotheflower ~*~ @cxmpetitivecaptain ~*~ @malacusleana ~*~ @granddiviner ~*~ @avengeriiism ~*~ @xchidoriisms ~*~

     All right, I really hope that’s everyone - my following list is still rather short after the move, so I wanted to at least give everyone a mention and a lil thank you. Here’s to another three years, fates allowing! Thank you all again for your support - it means the world <3

[ozianfizz]

I wrote another OC fanfic at 1 am

(One day I'll write Spinner in-character. But not today)

It’s funny what can happen at a convenience store. You can find a brand of candy bar that you haven’t seen in a decade, you can make a new friend in the form of a tired and overworked cashier in need of a raise, or you can meet a cute reptilian guy in the pastry aisle that's trying to shoplift.

Prior to the creation of the UA dorms, Millie Jones was living in a small flat in Kamino Ward. The rent didn’t cost much, the landlord didn’t mind Millie decorating the entire space with glittery pastels and Looney Tunes posters, and there was a Family Mart across the street that made the best late-night snacks in the universe! Well okay, maybe not the best, but when you’re a transfer student that’s training to become a Hero, there are only so many places that are open 24 hours and carry your favorite pastries and fast foods. Millie got most of her food from that Family Mart, and she enjoyed getting a few ice cream sandwiches and watching the people go by. She made friends with a few of the regular customers: the old man who enjoyed showing off pictures of his Pro Hero granddaughter, the exhausted single mother and her three kids who Millie loved to pieces (and offers to babysit them any time their mom needed a break), the insurance accountant who only drank black coffee and would rant about how reckless Heroes were going to turn his hair grey before he turned 30…

         There was one person she met that stood out in her mind, though. She first saw him on a late Saturday night with a few sweet buns in each hand. He was dressed in a simple grey hoodie and some tattered jeans, but he definitely wasn’t mundane-looking; his skin was scaly and a vibrant shade of green, and his shoulder-length hair was dark purple. Millie noted that it was the exact same shade as her favorite grape soda, and wondered if he dyed it or if he just naturally had cool purple hair. Either way, he was super cute. He had a mysterious air about him, and Millie swore she'd seen him before. Maybe he was an actor or something trying to keep a low profile?

The stranger stuffed a few of the buns into his hoodie’s pockets, and turned to go to the front of the store. He glanced at the register; the cashier’s nose was buried in a gossip magazine, and she hadn’t even noticed that there were any other customers besides Millie. He tentatively took a few steps forward towards the front door, but stopped in his tracks when he heard a bubbly voice behind him.

“Hi~!”

He jumped at the sound and whipped around to face Millie, with a look on his face like he was expecting a fight. After realizing the person behind him wasn’t a cop or Hero, and was in fact a high school girl dressed like a discounted Rainbow Brite doll, he relaxed a bit.

“Uh...hi?” He shifted uncomfortably. This was so awkward. All he wanted to do was get out of this stupid store with a few buns so he could have something to eat this week. This wasn’t his first time grabbing a few snacks and leaving without the cashier noticing, but he was usually at the store by himself. And now he wasn’t.

Millie twirled a finger around one of her pigtails. “I know this is super random and out of nowhere, but I wanted to say you look really cool! I’ve never met someone with purple hair colored like that. It really brings out the green in your uh, scales.”

The stranger was taken aback. Had she really not noticed he was planning on stealing? And wait...did she just call him...cool-looking? He blushed. “Th-thanks,” he replied. Squeaking out a single word counts as a reply, right? He didn’t know how to respond; plenty of people had commented about his appearance before, but never in a nice way.

Millie giggled at his shy response and looked down at his hoodie pockets, which were bursting with different pastries. “Ohmygosh, they restocked their dorayaki shelf!?” She turned towards the cashier, who was still buried in her magazine. “Yuki, what the heck? I thought you guys weren’t getting more until later this week!” Yuki shrugged, and Millie faced the stranger again after letting out a small huff. “I love the dorayaki here,” she gushed. “I could it eat every day, but they only put out 20 of ‘em on the shelf each week and that’s not nearly enough for me. So the manager said the next time he ordered some more, he’d get an extra box and just sell it to me in bulk from now on.” She pouted. “But I guess Yuki forgot to save my box or something and just put all of them on the shelves…”

She looked at the shelf with the remaining dorayaki, and then at the stranger with his full pockets. “Hey, how many of those do you have? Ten or so?”

The stranger glanced at his pocket pastries. “Yeah,” he replied. “But there’s plenty on the shelf if you want some.”

Millie started stuffing her purse with the forty leftover packages. The stranger noticed that despite how small it looked on the outside, the dorayaki fit inside easily; there weren’t even any sticking out of the top. She looked back at the stranger with a bright smile.

“My name’s Millie, by the way.” She held out her arm for a handshake. “I live across the street, so I’m always in here.”

The stranger just looked at her outstretched hand for a few seconds. He tentatively shook her hand, and noted how soft it was. Though when you have scales, everything feels softer by comparison. “I’m Iguchi,” he replied. “Shuichi Iguchi.” He gave a small, nervous smile. This was the longest interaction he’d ever had with a girl that didn’t end with him made fun of at school the next day. “And, uh, your hair’s cool too! Very...bouncy.” He immediately felt his cheeks turn pink. Bouncy? What kind of compliment is ‘Your hair is bouncy?’

Millie laughed. “Yeah, I get that a lot,” she replied. “Hey, do you wanna eat some of these with me outside?” She patted her purse. “Snacks are better when you have someone to eat them with.”

Shuichi stiffened. He had no money to pay for these buns and one potential witness to him shoplifting. Was she trying to trick him into confessing he was going to steal them? He thought for a second. No...nobody would go through this much just to get someone on the hook for stealing a few pastries from a convenience store. Still, he had to find a way to pay for these.

He decided he’d try to bluff his way out. He started to reach for his “wallet”, and acted surprised when he didn’t feel anything. “Hmm...well I guess I would,” he replied in a super natural, ‘I’m totally not acting’ voice, “But I can’t find my wallet! Maybe I dropped it outside. I’ll go check!” He took a few steps towards the front door, ready to break out into a run the second he was outside. Iguchi, you criminal genius.

Millie let out another giggle. “No, no,” she replied, “You don’t have to pay! The manager let me buy the bulk box of dorayaki in advance, so the ones on the shelf are already paid for.” She walked up to him and held open the door. “I was gonna let you have the ones you wanted, and we could eat together! And, like, get to know each other and stuff.”

Iguchi paused for a second. He was actually going to get out of this with a bunch of free buns and not deal with the awkward fallout of getting caught? He followed Millie outside. This girl was a bit weird, but you can’t say no to free snacks, right? “Yeah, okay,” he eagerly replied. They started walking towards a small seating area meant for customers who wanted to enjoy their food outside. He watched her fish out one of her sweets from her purse and take a gigantic bite. “Just out of curiosity, are you usually this nice to people you’ve just met?”

She shrugged and leaned against a small chair while she ate her dorayaki. “Yeah, pretty much,” she replied with a mouth of crumbs. She waited a bit to talk again after her mouth wasn't stuffed with food, and smirked. “But I’m always this nice to people who I think are cute.”

[truesymphony]

you should do Akira's Gajeel url. He won't send it himself he never does.

@pitchblacksteel  totally happy to gush over Akira any time!

Thoughts on the character:  Gajeel is an incredibly complex character.  From the moment he showed up on the screen I was hooked.  He falls into every category that I love.  he is an ass but he is also so much more than that.  he has this tenderness that he only shows when needed.  you can see how badly being in Phantom Lord fucked him up but he made his own destiny and become just this strong self made mage who kicks ass while keeping a bit of humor.  Any time he is on screen he steals the show for me.  I am not familiar with the manga but it’s on my list.  lol.  Now time to talk about @pitchblacksteel.  cause oh my word my breath is taken away.  Akira truly just has ripped Gajeels heart out and displayed it.  The writing is superb and it just gives me so many feels.  Gajeel is just complex and soft while still being a complete badass.  i applaud.  

Have you interacted before: yes!  Gosh Akira is legit one of my favorite people to write with.  The fact Akira’s prose is beautiful in this elegant novella style that shines through.  I’m always hooked reading the replies and it just makes me want to be a better write.

Favorite part of portrayal: I think my favorite part is just the care that was taking with Gajeel.  His characteristics have been focused on and shine through in every detail. i cant even began to express my admiration.  Gajeel is a muse that is so difficult and specific that it’s hard to write him without making him seem at least slightly ooc and i’ve never gotten that vibe here!

One piece of advice:  Keep your head up and don’t listen to haters cause there will always be those people especially when you can out write them like you do.  Focus on your happy stuff and continue to bless my dash with your rps cause I read them all.  

A verse (mine or theirs) I want a thread in: all the threads?  I mean writing with Akira is truly a delight in any verse and I’m just sitting here like MORE MORE MORE.  So yeah.  I do have some ideas.  I’d love something were Gaj is the leader of Phantom and Ray doesn’t leave.  Or perhaps even one where Gaj stands up and over throws Jose.  ugh and of course because of our convos ray wants smut.  Not even gonna sugar coat that.  But also I would love to do dad Gajeel cause i think he would be the cutest.  I mean i could throw out a million ideas here if you couldn’t tell.  

Thoughts on the mun:  Akira is an absolute joy.  I’ve not been in the fandom long and aside from some multis, I hardly follow any ft blogs but the second I followed, I was so welcomed.  Ocs tend to not always be accepted but I was and it makes me feel so happy.  I truly admire Akira and I have nothing praises to sing!

[izzyovercoffee]

I've been a fan of the Republic Commando series for a long time now, but just recently I realized what an asshole Kal really is. As well as problems with how Etain's pregnancy is handled. I still want to enjoy the books but these facts really disappoint me. Any suggestions?

Well … yes and no. I’ve been through this, and I have a few suggestions, but I feel like… it’s dependent entirely on what you want out of Republic Commando and/or what you need out of it.  Just like any other piece of media, there will always be bad (sometimes horrible) parts alongside the good. Focus on the good parts of the series while recognizing the bad parts that are still there. 

I guess I’m going to come at this from a specifically personal point of view, because I’ve had the ups and downs with regards to Republic Commando quite a few times. 

You, of course, don’t have to take any of my advice whatsoever, of course, and you’re not obligated to create content either.

What worked for me was four things:

picking a specific character (or characters) to focus my attention on, and lots and lots of meta

fanfic, headcanons, drabbles, art of the characters

creating OCs either based on or inspired by RepComm (new RC squads, developing Death Watch Cuy’val Dar, creating OC Cuy’val Dar, creating pilots, etc etc etc) 

deconstructing the literature, starting with Kal and moving on from there

aaand I’m putting a cut bc I just realized how long this is lmao

Pick a character you really like, and go through the times they’re mentioned in the books. For me … I really grew attached to Mereel, and I’ve done … a lot, a lot of meta, not least of which was the accelerated aging cure I posted the other day. I wouldn’t have been able to finish it if I didn’t focus on Mereel. I also wouldn’t have really come to understand his character if I never up and decided one day to pay extra attention to the mirsheb. 

Try writing drabbles, if that’s something you like to do, or come up with headcanons, or little snapshots of moments they might have with other characters. Fill up the gaps, because there are a lot of gaps, for all of them. Share your thoughts with other fans, or friends, or me! I’m always excited to talk about RepComm, honestly. I hope my salt about Kal is not too … off-putting? I do gush a lot about the other characters, too, just not as often lately. (I have to fix this. I will fix this.)

Create AUs. Make fix-it scenarios — pieces of the narratives that you don’t like, or that just don’t fit, and come up with ways to make them so. AUs I’m a fan of, too, because it gives us different environments in which to exercise ways to recreate our favorite characters. In this new setting, what could possibly be the reasons that x character is still x way? why? how do they get reacquainted with the rest of them? That sort of thing.

Or from there, start creating OCs. There’s at least 100 Cuy’val Dar, not including trainers for other parts of the Grand Army of the Republic, outside of Special Operations. 10,000 Republic Commandos, and each squad of 4 is different from the others.

There’s also quite a bit of mandalorian cultural worldbuilding packed into these novels, so long as you’re also able to unlace Kal’s heavy-handed misogyny and cissexist heterocentric bias. It’s been fun trying to figure out how mandalorian enclaves (Little Mandalores) might look on city planets, for one example.

When the series gets something right, it gets them really right. And it’s important to recognize how … well, good, and right, the things it does get right actually are — and this goes for most every piece of media out there. In this one, it’s the intense loyalty and sense of found family that really drew me in. The relationships between the commandos, the relationships between everyone (that isn’t Kal) … the potential for hijinks and the really intensely emotional moments across both platonic and romantic lines is really, really high between everyone, and it’s actually really easy to miss the first go around because how focused the narrative is on Kal, specifically … which is weird, given that these stories should be more focused on the clones and not him.

Everything seems to revolve around him, and you kind of forget about the other characters, or that they have relationships, interactions, conversations with the others beyond Kal’s gaze.

And the last thing is to tackle that disappointment head on. Part of the reason why myself, and others, are so adamant about being vocal of Kal’s abuse is because this type of abuse (emotional, mental, psychological) is often invisible, or outright ignored/forgiven by people in real life — not just in fandom. It’s especially concerning when all the things that Kal does are all surprisingly textbook abuse, but learning about the intricacies of how and why, and learning how to really pick apart abuse as committed by someone as beloved as Kal … well, learning to identify these things does extend to learning to identify them in real life, and in fighting them — or in, at the very least, supporting those affected by abuse.

I mean, it does not by any means make one an expert (though I do recommend, say, picking up books about abuse, like Why Does He DO That and Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, just for references and personal knowledge), but again — learning how to break these things down and identify them in a relatively safe capacity (literature) really helps to put things into perspective that would otherwise be incredibly hard to do because of how rarely we get the opportunity to see someone actually emotionally abusive in action.

Or how difficult it is to realize that abuse is happening when you’re under its direct influence. 

Some people might laugh or scoff, but Republic Commando as a series is really an excellent example of how insidious and damaging emotional abuse committed by a parental figure can really be — and how easily we, as people, are willing to overlook abuse or outright forgive it because we want to like the abuser, or because we personally understand his reasoning in spite of the harm he’s committing. 

I was actually going to go through the books and ignore all of Kal’s POVs, just to see how that changes the narration. Not because I dislike Kal so much as I recently noticed that Kal actively erases entire characters from his narrative that isn’t done in other chapters by other character POVs (most notably Mereel and his work towards the cure, but I’m sure this happens w/ other characters too). If a character, and it doesn’t matter how close to them they are, doesn’t fit exactly as how he defines they are or should be … he actually erases their achievements or outright ignores their contributions and qualities. 

And when I realized he does that, I was like what !! Because after all this time, going through the novels like I’ve done for meta, and I never noticed this before. And it’s upsetting, yes — but it’s also interesting. It’s fascinating to really take apart the narrative and try to really get inside characters’ heads and understand them.

Or, well, I find a lot of enjoyment out of doing that.

Of course, your mileage may vary, and you might not find my advice helpful … and that’s totally okay! This kind of thing is not enjoyable to everyone. Ultimately, once you get to this point, to get enjoyment out of RepComm (or any media, really, but I digress) you sometimes have to acknowledge that it will have bad parts — most things inevitably do, and few things are ever perfect. How you deal with those bad parts determines how you enjoy the work — but also, don’t forget to focus on the good parts, too, because there are good parts … it just sometimes takes more work to find them again once the realization of the bad hits. 

And if you’re totally put off from the work, even after all this, then that’s totally okay, too. It’s entirely understandable, entirely reasonable, and I would never fault you for that. I’ve known quite a few people who hit that realization, put the books down, and never picked them back up — and, again, that’s totally okay. Disappointing, yes, but like … that’s also life, sometimes. Things that you liked when you were younger, when you come back to them … they’re not what you remembered — or you notice things that make you balk you hadn’t noticed before. It happens. 

Oh, and also — take breaks. Lots of breaks. Take RepComm in small chunks, so that you don’t get overwhelmed if you’re the type that can or could (I am, sometimes). And, like I said before, drag some friends into it if you want, or drag me into it, if you’d like. I try to be as available as possible, even if I’ve been busy lately. It’s always nice to bounce ideas off another person, even if it’s just liveblogging or whathaveyou.