#because having a piece of paper won't make anyone else believe you if they don't want to (I've tried)

[itjazzbicch]

Have You

Pairing: Lee Chaolan x Fem Reader 

Summary: Being a high-ranked employee at Violet Systems, Lee has always taken an interest in the reader, but due to her past, she tries to block him out but opens up on Christmas Eve when she realizes Lee's pure feelings within his gift for her...

Requested by: @sacredwarrior88 (I hope you enjoy it! Merry Christmas!)

Warnings:  SMUT! (18+ ONLY! MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!) 

Word Count: 1.6k 

"You're still here, Y/N? It's Christmas Eve!"

"Yeah, so?" As a high-ranked official in Violet Systems, work was always my number one priority, even on holidays, which my boss, Lee Chaolan, was sometimes astonished by.

"It won't hurt to get out of this place, you know?" Trying to persuade me, I wasn't even looking at him, only at my monitor as he popped up behind me and proposed, "How about we go look at some Christmas lights? Come on, my dear."

Rolling my eyes, I should've known he'd try to work his charm on me, considering all the times he's tried to romance me, ignoring him, but he was persistent:

"How about a Christmas gift? I've got you something that you've been wanting! I'll be nice and let you have it now, hm?"

Now I was curious, side-eyeing him because I didn't tell anyone what I wanted for Christmas. He finally earned my attention, turning my chair around and smiling as he went to another room:

"Just sit tight!"

Letting out a deep sigh, I could only imagine that this 'gift' would be entirely out of my element or he'd make this about himself. Despite my doubts, I stayed silent and let him bring a box to me:

"Merry Christmas!"

"Thanks," I mumbled, placing the box on my lap. It was light, and I was a bit more curious, opening the red and gold box to be stunned.

"Sooo," He couldn't stop smiling at my reaction, looking into the box to see the final piece I needed for a robotics project I had been working on for a long time. It was tough to find and very expensive. I thought it would be impossible to find, "Do you like it?"

"A-Are you serious? Is this real?" I almost couldn't believe it, being delicate while examining it. "Oh, it's real," He winked, pointing something else out too, "There's more in there too."

Looking into the box again, there was a slim, folded piece of paper. A brochure? Not a brochure, but tickets and all the information I needed for a week's vacation at a fabulous resort in the Philippines.

"That lasts until a year if you don't want to go immediately," Lee explained, smiling more as he knew me well, "Maybe after you finish that big project."

"Wow, I-" No one had ever given me such a gift, my smile genuine as I looked up at him, "Thank you, Lee. I appreciate this so much."

"You deserve it," He smiled back, offering again, "So, let's enjoy the holiday, hm?"

His gift showed how he knew me and cared, so I let the wall I always had up down a little, turning back to my desk, "Just let me secure this piece, and we can look at lights."

Doing so, I had to hide my laugh as I heard him cheering to himself, but after securing the robotic piece, we got our coats and headed out to find a snowy night sky.

"It really feels like Christmas, don't you say?"

"Yeah," Looking up at the snow falling, glistening past all the holiday lights that colored the night, the Christmas spirit was contagious, "It's beautiful."

Our walk was lovely and peaceful, pointing out some rather flashy decorations, giggling and smiling at some jokes Lee was making, but a strong, freezing wind made me seize up, hugging my body.

"Geez, guess it's going to be cold tonight, huh?"

"Here," Taking off his jacket and wrapping me in it, I was protected from the cold, but saying to Lee as he was left in just his dress shirt:

"It's okay, really. You should be wearing a jacket."

"I'll be just fine," He assured, his kindness making me smile again, "You don't have a far walk home, right? Let's get out of the cold."

Nodding and walking to my apartment, the freezing wind was growing stronger, and as we made it to my doorstep, the tip of Lee's nose was red, but he was still focused on me:

"Did you have fun?"

"I did," I meant, loosening up a little and offering, since he'd done so much for me tonight, "Come inside and warm up, Lee. I have a fireplace."

Being so open took him aback slightly, but still cheerful and honest as he shivered inside, "Thanks. That wind was strong."

I had to giggle because I knew he was struggling without his jacket, but I made up for that by lighting the fireplace in the living room, having him sit and warm up, and getting us two cups of hot chocolate.

"This will help too," Bringing the drinks over and sitting with him, his nose no longer read and a smile on his face as he took his cup:

"Thank you."

"Of course," I sipped mine, staring at the fireplace, spacing out a little as I thought deeply.

"You okay?" He whispered, only checking on me, and I didn't expect my emotions to hit me like they did when I admitted:

"I'm fine. It's just been years since anyone's spent Christmas with me. It feels-; It's so nice. Thank you again for everything."

As our eyes locked, we couldn't stop smiling at one another to the point where we started laughing. I had to put my cup down, looking as Lee opened his arms up to me, pointing out that it was now midnight:

"Merry Christmas!"

For the first time, I hugged him, and it felt so right. I thought about all the times I had been such a grinch towards him; my past had made me close up so much, but deep down inside, I knew I could open up with him, repaying him for all my attitude that he's had to deal with by kissing his cheek softly:

"Merry Christmas."

Caressing my cheek, I was floating on a cloud headed for heaven as his lips found mine, so soft and tender against mine. My heart was overwhelmed, pressing my lips harder as my eyes shut tighter, not noticing the tear rolling down my cheek.

When that tear met his hand, he pulled back to check on me, thinking he messed up at first:

"I'm sorry-"

"It's okay. I promise," I breathed in deep, more tears swelling as I met his gaze to explain, "I just have a bad past with men, but you-; You-; You are-"

I couldn't find the words to explain it, and Lee showed that we didn't need words with a simple instruction:

"Come here, dear."

Resting back in his arms, I held his face as I kissed him, a craving taking over me and guiding him back onto the couch. Each kiss told how I only wanted someone who wanted me for me, and I was sure I found that in Lee.

Straddling over him and sitting up for a deep breath, we were stuck smiling at each other again, Lee noticing:

"I think tonight's the first time I've seen you smile."

"All thanks to you," I cooed, feeling the mood in the air, whispering an important question, "Do you truly want me, Lee?"

"You and only you," He cooed back, in a trance, as I took off my shirt, skin highlighted from the fire, coming back to kiss him and unbutton his shirt, tongues clashing passionately.

Sitting us up, we both stripped out of our clothes, Lee guiding me back to his lap, rubbing over every inch of skin he could reach, kissing:

"I've always known how special you are."

With his hands on my hips, I pressed my forehead against his, feeling a slight ache as his tip began to stretch me, letting me work at my own pace as I adjusted to his girth, slowly rolling my hips and working to take more inches.

"Oh my god," I was worked up from all the slickness I felt between my thighs, hips rolling smoother and a bit quicker, then sitting on all his cock, gasping at how deep he was in me, "Lee!"

"Stay just like that," He cooed, peppering my neck with kisses, rocking my hips back and forth at a steady, even pace, his mouth falling to my breast, closing around my nipple and sucking.

It had been so long for me, my tingling nerves jolting through my head to my toes. All these feelings weren't just from the sex but from the fact that I finally had someone who could make me happy.

By the time he picked his head up, my entire chest had been glistening from kisses, and the way he looked into my eyes drove me wild, his hands digging into my hips when I suddenly started to bounce on his cock, getting a moan to spill out of him.

He kept his eyes on me, loving the view, but his head fell back as he grinned:

"Damn, Y/N."

That made me feel confident, just smirking and returning some kisses on his neck, leaving some marks, his hands sliding down to my ass, squeezing and kneading, then throwing up his hips, making me hug his head.

"Oooo! Lee!"

Hugging my waist and thrusting up again, brushing past my sweet spot, made my walls clench up harder and harder each time, my moans growing louder and mixing with soft whines.

"I have you, baby," He cooed, kissing my cheek, a hand running up my back and holding my head against his, whispering in my ear, "Let it all go. Cum for me."

"Just don't stop," I whined, squeezing his head as my back snapped into an arch, his thrusts growing faster as I gushed around his cock, the friction following with an aftershock, making me squirm and tremble slightly, jaw-dropping at the so many feelings that swirled in my head, only able to process the same words, "Oh my god, Lee. Oh my god."

"As I said," Easing down to a still, he knew I needed a moment to regain myself, brushing the little hairs away from my face, kissing my nose, "I have you."  

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome 

#tekken #tekken x reader #tekken x y/n #tekken imagine #tekken smut #tekken oneshot #lee chaolan #lee chaolan x reader #lee chaolan x y/n #lee chaoaln imagine #lee chaolan smut #lee chaolan oneshot #request #read and enjoy

[bloogers-boogers]

Kyle Brofloski/Eric Cartman & Stan Marsh/Eric Cartman

/mixed feelings/ part 1/3

Summary: After Kyle breaks up with Cartman he begins to have seconds thoughts about his choices after realizing Cartman's new developed feelings for Stan

~~~~~

"I'm telling you, dude. Cartman doesn't like me," Stan kept insisting after being interrogated by his best friend mid bathroom break.

He zipped up back his pants and went to the sink soaking his hands with soap and water.

"The way he looks at you, Stan, is how he used to look at me," Kyle hissed, placing a hand over his chest, "you got to believe me and be careful."

The raven boy gripped the bridge of his nose, "Okay, if and I'm just saying IF Cartman were to like me why do you care?"

Kyle mouth almost drop as he eyed Stan in disbelief by that solid question, "because.. because- it's Cartman!"

"Dude, you know I would never like him back if that's what you're worried about," his best friend commented casually as he grabbed a paper towel to dry his hands up.

"Why would I ever worry about that fat piece of shit liking someone else!" Kyle snap back defensive, cheeks were red as Santa's coat, "if I broke up with Cartman, it's because I realized sooner or later that relationship was going anywhere but to a mental clinic! I got some of my sanity back." Kyle blurted out as he paced around the bathroom, crossing his arms and facing away from Stan.

"O–Kay," said Stan nonchalantly, already done with the conversation. He walked towards the door and before he could push it open Kyle snapped, hugging him from the legs

"Please, Stan! I beg you, don't date Cartman!" He cried out pleading, burying his head in the soft fabric of his favorite grey pants covering it all with snot.

"God, alright! Jesus christ," Stan screamed baffled, as he had his arms extended up in the air not knowing what else to do.

Ofcourse Stan would never do that to Kyle, that's against all bro codes, and mostly being remotely interested in Cartman. It was actually quite offensive for his best friend to believe he even had that type of low standards.

Though, he didn't think Cartman could develop some sorta thing for him, yes, they had been hanging out more. But it's mostly due the fact of his break up with Kyle everthing was just so tense between them that they started drifting apart and hanging out separately.

"I won't ever date, Cartman," he forcefully promised, rolling his eyes by the annoying and unnecessary confrontation.

Kyle sniff, standing up and looking at him slightly more relieved, "promise?"

"Promise," Stan gestured the door, "can I go now?"

°°°°

"Do you want some of my fries, Stan?" Cartman offered by batting his eyes in a innocent manner.

Stan was left speechless, Cartman would never just offer food to anyone. He felt Kyle glare through his skin from the other table, he was already regretting sitting with Butters, Clyde and Cartman today.

He arched a brow, "What're you scheming, Cartman?"

The boy huffed, "wow, I can't be a good friend cause you think I want something in exchange? That offends me, hippie."

"I thought you wanted to be nice to Stan and see if you could go out on a date with him, Eric," Butters slipped up naively.

"Shut up, Butters!" Cartman snapped, flustered.

Okay, maybe Kyle was right after all. Stan's eyes widen in shock.

"Uh, yeah, I'm leaving," he stood up abruptly but Cartman grabbed his arm.

"Look, I really don't want to lose the only friend I have apart from Kenny," Cartman said desperately, Stan could see in his eyes that he genuinely meant that.

Stan felt pity how their group ended because of some shitty middle school romance, mostly for Cartman cause he is the most affected negatively considering they'll pick spending time with Kyle over him.

He sighed, "alright, fatboy. But just cause I'm no longer with Wendy doesn't give you the right to make moves on me or do any of your weird shit," he warned before letting go of Cartman's grip and leaving his tray on top of the trash bin being followed behind by Cartman; like some energetic puppy.

°°°°

Stan looked at the white board during class, his brows were knit together tight. On one side Kyle glare at him cautiously, on the other it was Cartman who looked at him in a dreamily manner.

This situation was gonna drive him nuts, there couldn't be a possible solution for all this could there?

Kyle was too stubborn to admit he still has feelings for Cartman, always had, he's just being stupidly in denial about. Even though he was the one to initiate things with Cartman and funny enough the one to end it after three weeks in.

Surprisingly Cartman was taking their relationship seriously, and indeed was in love with Kyle. It wasn't shocking to hear Cartman cry his guts out to Butters and Kenny about it, about how Kyle broke his heart demolishing every ounce of humanity left in him. Which was an exaggeration, but still, he understood why Cartman was so upset. He also understood what it's like to have your heart broken, so he tried comforting him in his own way at some points.

He really didn't do anything wrong, it was all Kyle's denial and acceptance. So it didn't feel wrong to blame Kyle for it, this time.

Kyle beforehand had been talking about being insecure of their relationship during the start of it all, and in the middle of said relationship was contemplating the possibilities and outcomes if it were everlasting. It's not like he didn't warn him to not worry about it too much, Kyle was always an overthinker. He reassured him that only time will tell, but that was never enough to ease Kyle's worries, ironically the only one that could calm that cloudy storm of his own crooked mind was Cartman.

Somehow even being mostly the outlet of Kyle's anger he was also the one that could mellow him down quickly when it came to random outbursts, like water to it's flame.

Would it be odd to compare Cartman to water? Not entirely, water could be anything at anytime, it's a liquid that could either be salty or sweet. It's beauty is captivating but just as it being captivating you could also drown, it can be deadly or chaotic.

Water could be rivers, oceans, ponds and even lakes.

Like a river it could be calm and fun even if that meant it could easily lure you down to a deadly trap like a waterfall, but like a lake it could trick you into having a nice time while also potentially leading you to a dangerous aftermath, like parasites or being sucked by blood drinking leaches. But, trails of water could also lead you to safety, security; when you're lost or need of guidance.

A pond with a beautiful exterior giving such a relaxing, admiring view to it all while also hiding in it's depths a possible dark secret laying around, being a perfect hideout for a corpse or dunking illegal weapons inside, potential links to countless crimes.

Let's not even talk about the ocean, so big that if you dive in too far you'll get lost, in a almost never lasting end. Waves strike you hard and is use as some barrier, a warning to not dive further.

But many never listen, diving in until it's too late to look back.

The weather constantly changing in there, so dangerous, so cold in it's nights. Yet the reflection of the moon shining against it making it all look magical. Still, we cannot live with out water. A mixture between beauty and horror.

Survival and guidance.

Calm to it's disaster.

Cartman was water to Kyle's flame.

Fire on the other side is known to be destructive, chaotic when it's spreads. But it's useful for protection, alerting, signaling help or killing parasites from raw food, keeping you warm, a comfortable outlet when used properly, help heal wounds and possible infections. Fire is a beautiful sight, the blossoming colors that'll drawn you in and want to try convincing you on putting your hand inside and take the pain just for the experience or possibly live pass it, immune; which is never a good thing.

It's beauty is a cover for the true nature that rises from flames and sparks.

People see fire as something entertaining, spiritual, some attempt to walk through a path of flaming rocks or jump pass it. To be one with fire or for mere fun.

The fact that fire is so knowingly of being destructive yet people find ways to play with it, get closer to it. Says how much it could be dismissed by it's damages. After all, fire is never to blame when it comes to the people that provoke it.

Or maybe he was just thinking too much? Now the raven boy wonders if spending much time in the literature club with Cartman was finally getting him.

He shrugged those thoughts away, trying to focus in class and ignore both his friends stares.

He clenched his hands while trying to not drift his sight on to one. He knew well enough to not get entangled between the two archrivals conflicted tension, but if felt inevitable by the position his lead in to.

He glanced at Cartman who blushed by being caught immediately looking the other way, attempting to act like he wasn't being so damn obvious on sending him mix signals of a possible crush.

Next —

#south park #stan marsh #kyle brovlofski #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #kyman #sp kyman #stanman #sp three-parter #i have another stanman fic coming up aswell haha but for some reason i decided to post this one first #been in a stanman mood lately

[faotoni]

Fate.

Hi there, uh, this was intended to be a longer story than it is so if anyone likes it and wants me to continue or further expand, let me know :) if I suck, I'll know that too (you won't have to tell me)... I'm not too unfamiliar with that concept unfortunately or I would post more... but, I don't know, I liked this little blurb I wrote, so, here. have it.

Also suck at titles for things.

Fizzarolli only remembered flashes from that night. Like snapshot pictures, followed by the increasing feeling of pain.

Until darkness.

The last real memory he had was Blitz’s face, desperate and lost, staring back at him as Fizz’s arms, legs and horns got burnt away. He felt the hurt, the confusion, the panic; all intermixed with the feelings of death. Dying.

Pain.

The next memory Fizz had after that was waking up to the sound of sawing, cutting and more burning, as the doctors of Sloth worked away at Fizz’s dead limbs. He was awake for all of it. Bandaged up with his mouth taped shut so he wouldn’t scream. Not that he could, his throat feeling as empty as his soul did in that moment. He felt alone. He felt like that hospital room was truly hell, never mind actually living in REAL Hell. It was nothing compared to that moment.

That was all.

Before he woke again.

In that memory, he remembered waking up and trying to reach or something, only to discover his arms were gone. He looked down and saw his legs were gone as well. Along with his entire body in bandages. He tried to cry out, but the emptiness in his throat remained. It suddenly felt cold, as the loneliness came back, taking over every space his limbs should have occupied.

Then nothing again.

Fizz’s memory was shattered after that, bits and pieces remained but nothing that was that important.

Until he was fully conscious.

The first day he had a grasp on his situation was the day he asked to see Blitz, or if he was anywhere in the hospital, if he was ok. It took quite a bit of doing without a voice box or limbs but Fizz managed to concentrate long enough to pen Blitz’s name on a piece of paper with his still bandaged tail. The imps in the room with him, Cash Buckzo who was Blitz’s dad and a few other stand ins for Mammon, who couldn’t be bothered to see if his first clown champion was ok, didn’t want to indulge Fizz’s wish to see his best friend.

It broke his heart.

He didn’t know if Blitz was ok, if anyone else got hurt or even died in the fire… he didn’t know anything.

And then the talking began.

Not right away, but bit by bit, information about the contest, the circus, Blitz… it all started to come out of the mouths of whoever was in Fizz’s room at the time. At first he didn’t believe his best friend could want to hurt him, or even try to kill him; but the more they talked, the more Fizz didn’t know, the more he was forced to believe.

For day after day, Blitz never came.

They told Fizz, Blitz didn’t want to see him.

It broke his heart.

He was truly alone.

The rest of his first months were a blur after that, rage and betrayal slowly building inside of Fizz over the information that was fed to him by the beings that came into his room. It made him want to die.

Then something happened.

Mammon showed up.

He practically broke the door down; waddling to Fizz’s side and gushing over his predicament. Fizz was confused at first, surely Mammon already knew what happened to him, or perhaps he knew but was just too busy to actually go see him. Fizz tried to explain to Mammon he couldn’t talk, using his tail to point several times to his throat trying to indicate the emptiness. It didn’t matter to Mammon though. He was too wrapped up in Fizz being a stump. No arms, no legs… how could you preform? How could I market you, erm, make you better? How? Fizz looked past all the talk that sounded more like he was an object other than a living being because for the first time in a while, this was the only positive conversation he had heard. Everyone prior singing “oh woes me” to him instead of trying to figure out how they could help him. It didn’t matter to Fizz that Mammon didn’t truly care about his well-being. He didn’t see it that way. He refused to. He saw Mammon wanting to help him.

But as excited and happy as Fizz was at the possibility of being saved, his dreams were dashed faster than they were built up. Mammon didn’t know how to help him.

Fizz felt alone again, trying to cling onto the positives of the conversation but they started to fade.

The next strong memory Fizz held was a few days after Mammon came by.

He came by again but this time, with someone else in tow, along with a few doctors and nurses. The special guest was Asmodeus, the King of the Lust Ring. Mammon explained to Fizz that he and Asmodeus had come up with a plan to get Fizz’s limbs back. Fizz felt the excitement come back into his soul, filling his chest and warning his face.

But it was short lived, for the measuring began. Fizz was moved all around and scrutinized by the doctors and nurses, his head bandage removed showing his broken horns for everyone to see. He remembered looking to Asmodeus in near tears, but being shocked by the man’s expression. It wasn’t one of scrutiny or unfeeling, it was of concern, of pain, of sadness. For him.

For Fizz.

Someone felt something for him, as a being.

He couldn’t look away from Asmodeus as the rest of the measuring happened. He was convinced that if he tore his eyes away for a second, when they returned, the face would be gone. The feelings wouldn’t be there. He desperately needed someone to feel for him.

Someone to care about him.

After the flurry of measuring, everyone left the room, but Asmodeus. He stayed, pulling up a chair and introducing himself to Fizz, as well as explaining a little more about the prosthetics they were thinking for Fizz. Mammon and Asmodeus were working on an advanced type of sex doll, with robotic arms and legs that stretched and moved around via a computer chip implanted in the robot. They figured they could do the same to Fizz. They had done some testing and it had worked on the imp they tested it on, they were missing an arm as well. Asmodeus explained to Fizz that they would have to wait until his wounds were fully healed to do the operation. Fizz tried to sign that he understood but had trouble figuring out how, which made Asmodeus chuckle, putting a smile on Fizz’s face.

Asmodeus said Fizz had a nice smile.

The next memory Fizz had was if the next day, surprisingly, Asmodeus made another appearance, bringing in some flowers and soup from his home in Lust, suggesting the soup may help him regain his voice. Asmodeus helped feed it to Fizz, which he was both grateful for and heavily confused. He didn’t quite know why Asmodeus had taken a personal interest in him. Why him? What was so special about him? No one saw it… besides Blitz… but…. No. Asmodeus shouldn’t take a liking to Fizz, he’ll just hate him. Like Blitz did…

Fizz ended up “accidentally” knocking the soup off the table and onto the ground with his tail after a few tastes of it. He really enjoyed the soup but he couldn’t risk losing someone again. Asmodeus couldn’t like him, or take interest in him as a being. No.

But something weird happened. Not anything like what Fizz expected. He didn’t know what he was expecting, maybe a huff, Asmodeus saying something along the lines of Fizz being Mammon’s property and only doing all this to keep him happy or something, but that didn’t happen. Asmodeus got sad and apologized for Fizz knocking the soup over almost immediately. Not only that but he got up quickly and checked to make sure none of the hot soup got on Fizz. He offered to get Fizz something else to eat and cleaned up the mess. It made Fizz feel guilty. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t trust anyone.

Asmodeus ended up bringing him oatmeal and waffles.

The next few memories were a montage of moments with Asmodeus, who hadn’t given up on befriending Fizz, even after his various tests to see if Asmodeus was being truthful or not. He was, if anything the tests made Asmodeus more present in Fizz’s life. He was in his hospital room every day. He brought gifts every day and told Fizz about himself every day. Each day Fizz wished he could answer back. He tried each day to force his vocal chords to work but to no use. Asmodeus didn’t seem to care. He helped Fizz express himself and sign using his tail. It warmed his heart and he slowly started to accept Asmodeus’s friendship.

The next full memory was when they brought in the prosthetics and Fizz’s ”hopefully” final surgery. Asmodeus was there, and he helped Fizz fall asleep so he wouldn’t feel the pain from what he was about to be put through, using some of his own personal magic. Even before knowing if it would work or not, Fizz was thankful.

After the surgery, Fizz was grateful. It had worked, though there was a lot more recovery to be had. He woke up in his room, this time with Asmodeus by his side, softly humming some song Fizz didn’t know. Asmodeus was happy to see Fizz awake and explained to him that the implants and surgery had worked. Fizz smiled and opened his mouth; trying so hard to push any bit of air through his fried vocal cords.

“thanks.”

#helluva boss #fizzie #fizzarolli #i know it abruptly ends but i dont know how to end a short story #i figured it should end on him actually saying something #considering hes wanted to talk the whole time #HB Asmodeus #fizzarozzie #kinda a meetcute

[gaoau]

it's (not) fine (ゼロ ; zero ; cero)

It's fine if you're not here. Either way, i'll always remember you. Hey, kei, say my name. It's not fine if you're not here.

pairing — Baji Keisuke x reader word count — 4.7k note — this is a spin-off of it's so cold. it can be read on its own, but some context might be missing. thanks for reading!

It's fine.

i've convinced myself it is, at least. It's been quite some time since things started changing—since people started leaving. i've grown as used to it as i can so it'd be easier on Mikey. Whether it worked when Ken happened or not, i can't really tell. i think it might have. Seeing how things turned out with South, maybe it didn't. It doesn't really matter—it does, just not quite the way it's supposed to. When things are quiet like this, it feels like Mikey never even killed anyone in the first place. The same way he once killed Tora—though that was erased—and the same way i once killed Manjiro—though that was erased—and the same way he once killed South—though that.

It's quiet in here. Kanto Manji has grown so obnoxiously large that it's hardly quiet around me anymore. Mikey headed out earlier without a word, Haru in tow, and Koko's busy downstairs with an ong—Koko's just busy. i don't know what everyone else is doing. Commando unit, special attack unit, even Kakucho. Bullshit. The only special attack unit i ever cared for was kei and Tora. i like things better when they're like this; quiet and empty and peaceful. i'm not sure when i started to like silence so much.

It's quiet now, but it was never quiet around kei.

My sigh echoes in this emptiness. i've convinced myself it's fine while i try and find something that won't remind me of him. It seems difficult when i keep clinging onto him like this. The cross pendant engraves its shape on my palm the more i tighten my fist around it. i've always loved kei's sense of fashion, but this necklace suddenly seems horrendous. It's hard to believe the moon hanging in the sky is the same one that drifted by when we were together. Photographs are just pieces of paper and memories are nothing but dust, yet it all makes him resurface in my mind.

A big heart and a big smile and a big voice. Although the room is quiet, my head isn't. It plays in a timber gruff and too deep for a kid my age. Then again, it's been two years and he's no longer my age where he left. If anyone can stay young forever, it's definitely kei—in heart and spirit, of course, because physically he's sure to grow and open up that pet shop he's always wanted.

It plays. It's the ghost in the back of my head, playing, "Chifuyu's unhinged!"

The loud sound of his laughter rings through the air, somehow—but unsurprisingly—overpowering his roaring engine. i lean against the backrest and curl my fingers a little more securely around his precious Goki. Even if i have my own bike, kei's always been persuasive enough to make me hitch a ride with him. He's here, right in front of me, and i laugh alongside him. "I heard!" my cackles mimic his, "He's really got your back, huh?"

"That's putting it lightly." And it really is. Chifuyu's been with him for less than i have, but he knows how to make consistent choices. If there's anyone i trust to keep kei safe, it's definitely his new vice-captain. Back then, at least; now that i've stared at his death these many times, i should have known.

So i let my shoulders bounce in glee and amusement. "Better keep my hands off you, then." These little moments, when we're hanging out at the dojo, bare feet padding on the mats, chasing the moon so high in the sky; the blurred line between Toman meetings in the middle of the night and childhood friends bantering. "Or tell him to chill out," i snicker. i doubt Chifuyu would lay a hand on me.

In a fit of sheer stupidity, in typical kei fashion, he cranes his neck back and grins at me over his shoulder. "What, were you thinking 'bout putting me in my place?"

"kei!" i scramble to shake him by the shoulders and slap his attention back forward. "Eyes on the road, dipshit!" i catch a flash of the moon blooming in his fangs before he speeds down the road. And i give up. He lets me have the last word and i think just this is okay, so i let it go. i hold onto him tight until we arrive at Musashi Shrine.

When we park, it's a distance away from the torii gate, as per usual. This is where we part ways, because i don't think there's ever been a time when kei and i crossed to the sacred together. It's always meeting him after he's already far ahead, or not meeting him at all for a decade. i get off his bike and slap his back with enthusiasm. But kei catches me by the sleeve of my uniform before i can leave. He knows i need to—He knows i usually head up to wait for Mikey. He's always been persuasive enough.

Chifuyu's already idling by his own parked bike and kei drags me to chat him up for a little while. In his mind, a minute longer keeps me from sinking. i indulge him. Cracking jokes with these two is never dull; sharing a regular friendly conversation is always so peacefully mundane. It's loud and it's fleeting, but it's welcome. i do wonder what's taking Mikey so long. i haven't seen his Babu, so i'm guessing he's not here yet.

i only manage a wandering glance towards the torii gate before kei's voice pulls me away, "Wanna join us for some burgers after the meeting?" It's the way he says my given name that brings me back from the pressure on my shoulders. It's my name he says. It's not a mess of sounds in the shape of a brand.

"Yeah!" Then Chifuyu chimes in with that nickname Mikey passed onto everyone around me. It doesn't show on my face; it never has. "We should hang out!"

i chuckle at their mirroring beams. It's light-hearted. "Only if you're paying, kei."

Chifuyu again, with that nickname and an honorific far too formal. "That's what I'm here for! I wouldn't make my captains pay, right, Baji-san?"

i glare pointedly at Chifuyu's captain. "kei." My tone is accusatory enough to make him feign ignorance. kei averts his eyes from mine with a cheeky smile, palms and shoulders raised to plead not guilty. There's not a single timeline in which he's guilty. A snort slips, "i'd fuck you up, kei," and i glance at kei's unhinged vice-captain, "but i'd rather not get stri—"

"There you are!" comes Mikey's distinctive voice from behind me. He calls my nickname with familiarity. It can't bother me, not this early on in the game.

i instantly turn towards him. It's weird that i didn't hear his Babu pull up. Not that it matters, really. "Mikey!" i call back to him, beaming, waving for him to come closer before i head to him.

Mikey's looking around as he stops a few feet before me, Ken trailing behind. "Where's your bike?"

"Oh, i came with kei."

His eyes shift to kei for a brief moment, empty. Then he lets out a soft chuckle, his attention back on me, a simper on his lips as he shakes his head. "Dummy… Guess I gotta give you a ride back now."

"Sure." i smile back at him. Then i turn to look at kei and Chifuyu again, and i see the expressions on their faces. It's cute to find Chifuyu's disappointed i'm turning him down, but kei—It's only for a moment. "Ah, i'll—Maybe next time? i'll catch you guys later." i leave them with a small wave, because although kei's always persuasive, it's never enough to tear me away from Mikey permanently. 

i feel lighter in my own skin and bones by the time i stand next to Mikey, feeling the ghost of a tug on my sleeve reminding me i'm allowed to exist outside of my self-imposed priorities. We cross the torii gates together; we transition from the mundane to the untouchable. i laugh and i enjoy my time alongside my friends. i don't quite see what kei does, or his reasoning for making me hitch rides that can't stop me. He thinks i won't run away this time, but i've always chosen Mikey over myself.

He knows that. And it's not something he needs to stop. It's fine, after all, it's always been like this. kei knows that.

kei or simply Baji Keisuke. For everyone, Baji—Baji-san, Baji-kun, Baji in admiration and in friendship and in disdain. For me, however, just kei. i never understood why Mikey chose Baji, too. i think about the way i addressed the people surrounding me sometimes. Tora for Kazutora, and Takashi's first name. Never that childish honorific for Ken, and even Pah was Haru before i realized i couldn't handle Haruchiyo's scars in my mind every time i talked to him. Even switching back and forth between Mikey and Manjiro, because i've never known who is who or who exists and who doesn't or who's real and who isn't. i could never curse Takemichi with Takemicchi. Koko—that wasn't a choice, but i think Koko is fine.

And then there was Baji Keisuke. Being with him since childhood, it only made sense i'd refer to him by his first name and so would he for me. Neither of us liked beating around the bush. It only made sense. We were close and it showed in our voices. That's how we grew up. Baji was short-lived, Keisuke sounds like mom when she scolds me, and Edward was stupid the same way Michael is and will always be. kei simply rolled off the tongue nicely.

i found solace in the way kei pronounced my given name—not some low-effort, jumbled, scrambled mess of hiragana that Mikey came up with to brand me like cattle. i chose to call him differently so i'd separate him from Mikey's possessions. Although i wasn't interested in seeing things beyond Mikey, i unconsciously tried to pull away from him by pulling into kei. Sometimes, it felt more like kei was trying to pull Mikey off my shoulders. There was always so much pulling, so much burning at the seams, but never any pushing. All he wanted was for me to wake up and realize, not startle me.

Because that's what kei always has been. His ripped shirts and his stylish choker. The slouch of his shoulders and the sparkle in his eyes. The sound of his loud voice, gruff and too deep for a kid my age, calling out from his bike so i'd hop on faster. Peppy and cheerful, with a big grin and an equally big heart, far too stupid and far too smart for his own good. Careful, watchful, a little too much in the know, and much too little into asking for help.

He knew i could bleed and that i'd give everything up for Mikey to live his life and that i was always ready to die. That's really all that kei's always been; standing tall, but looking small, like a mischievous little thing grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me along. Like he knew no matter how much he pulled, i'd always choose Mikey in the end. For worse, never for better. Like it's fine. For better, never for worse.

Another Toman meeting tonight, with the day growing late and the full moon rising in the sky. It's one of those nights, rare but not impossible, where Mikey is here earlier than me. i cross the torii gates on my own and the silence seems so loud. i'm not really used to things being quiet around me. i've always been surrounded by boisterous people. We're delinquents.

And kei takes pride in that; in his glimmering grin and his extreme volume. "Slow down, will ya?!" comes his distinctive voice from behind me. He calls my name with glee. 

i stop without so much as taking another step away from him. It's not only his voice, but also knowing there's no one else but kei to use my given name with care. i wait for him to catch up to me, smiling at him climbing the stairs. "kei, hey."

His hands are attacking my hair before i can duck away. "I told you I'd pick you up. Why didn't you wait for me, dumbass?" Laughter bounces off his every sentence. We take a small break from all this shallow back-and-forth between Toman and our friendship. i exist outside of my chains. i exist with kei.

His assault on my scalp is relentless even after i swat my palms at his face. i scratch his cheek, hissing, "And i told you i have my own bike, dude."

"Then we going for a ride after this?"

"i'm more up for a race, how 'bout that?" i playfully knock my shoulder into his.

Where kei usually knocks me back, tonight he chooses to freeze on his tracks. i look back and down at him, finding his eyes gawking at me in disbelief. i raise a brow as he says, "You're actually free later?" Then i frown. i'm sure, i'm so sure i'll forever remember him and his words, trying to pull me back.

"Yeah?"

"What about Mikey?"

What about Mikey? It's my own naïveté the one that doesn't let me understand. "i… i don't know?" But i'll know soon enough. And kei won't be there for me to hide behind.

"Huh." It's short and he brushes it off his face before he lets on too much. He's always been one to take everything on his back. As if nothing else he'll ever hear could throw him off, kei resumes walking, shrugging his shoulders carefreely. "Since you're always following him, I thought, you know…" he trails off, like he sometimes realizes he actually doesn't know much at all. 

i blink a few times to reorient myself. He's already climbing up the stairs in silence ahead of me. Although kei knows me, it seems my choices still elude him. It seems my choices elude me myself. i can't find the words to tell him that even if he's not Manjiro, i still love him to bits. If i can't explain it now, i'll be left all alone. But i don't say anything. i don't know if i can say anything. i hurry to catch up to him.

When he finds me heavy by his side again, kei snickers to himself, "Then I'll beat your ass." My name dances with the sound of his laughter. With the full moon hanging in the sky and shining in his pockets, he flashes me one of his boyish grins. i giggle for a moment before falling quiet in my thoughts once more.

What about Mikey?

i hear the door open and close behind me. kei's necklace makes its way back into my pocket, away from cold, prying eyes that might accuse me of abandonment. Not that i would ever leave Manjiro, but he sees the puzzle pieces in my hands and makes up his own image. He calls that nickname he gifted me, the one written with syllables out of order and chaos in his head.

i turn towards him to find him idly standing by the door. Speaking of silence, i guess it's because of him i've had to grown used to it. With my friends all gone, the loud and boisterous ones that would never shut up—like kei, of course—this quietude has become the norm. Maybe i've always liked silence and peace, but i didn't know any better until now.

"I'm hungry," is all Mikey says.

His eyes find mine. i'm getting tired of everything i'm supposed to call mine. All my friends and my allies and even Mikey. Dark gaze and long hair—like kei, but he's not kei, and kei will eternally remain in my sight, grinning forever, unfading. My friend. i'm sick of trying to find a single thought that will make sense. i sigh, because the choices i've made force me to reach my hands out to Mikey.

It's vague, but i brush his hair off his face, suggesting, "Take-out soba?" i don't dare specify and let him know i've been thinking a little too much.

"I just want dessert."

"Okay."

i have to hold my stare for a little longer than i actually should. Manjiro blurs in and out of sight the more i look at him. He's curiously staring back, probably wondering why i'm taking so long to order ice-cream for the both of us. Of course. i pull my hands away, searching in my pockets for my phone. All i find is a cross pendant. i'm still hungry for yakisoba.

That's the thing—that's always been the thing. Things i didn't want to see or i simply couldn't pay attention to because i was too busy making sure Mikey wouldn't derail. Things kei tried to pry off my back so many times by making me hitch rides i didn't need. Where Mikey unknowingly—or knowingly?—forces me to loosen my grip on my own identity, kei comes to help me wrap my fingers and close my fists tight around it again. It's an offer and it's never imposed; i have my choices when it comes to kei.

And it's fine, because i choose to go back to Manjiro every time. So i order ice-cream and take-out yakisoba.

i stand nearly in shock next to Toman's president. kei came, disrupted the meeting, socked Takemichi, and left while declaring himself an enemy to us—to me. He's leaving. Right now, as Kisaki fixes his glasses to also punch Takemichi, kei is leaving. Right now, as Takashi grumbles to himself, kei is leaving. Right now, as Manjiro does nothing but sulk, kei is leaving.

He's leaving. He's gone.

i stare and stare and stare at the empty spot beside Chifuyu. Right now, as i don't move a single muscle, kei is leaving. It feels like an eternity later when i finally snap out of my own pity party. Mikey's fingers barely brush my wrist in a futile attempt to keep me in place. kei's already left, he doesn't want another one of his friends to abandon him for the enemy. He knows better than that.

i would never leave him. kei would never leave him.

(kei, right now, is leaving.)

i would never betray him. kei would never betray him.

(kei was there when Shin was killed.)

My feet are almost floating down the stairs, skipping steps and struggling not to stumble stupidly until i crash at the torii gates. kei comes into sight, a few feet before crossing back onto the mundane without me. He throws a glance over his shoulder when he hears me catching my breath behind him. It's between choking gasps for air that i manage to call out to him, "kei." Is it in admiration or in friendship or in disdain? It's in my voice. "Why are you doing this?" It's in fear.

"Hah?" he drawls. He turns to face me fully. The moon blooms in his smirk. "I'm bored of playing kids' games."

i take a step closer. "Dude, don't lie to me." Kids' games is all we've been playing—kids' games is all we know how to play. i'll let him lie to anyone else. i don't care if he's a liar or a cheater or a fraud, as long as he doesn't lie to me.

"Since when do you care about anything that isn't Mikey?"

"i don't." It makes me wonder how any of this manages to get under my skin. i don't think i could handle this ending for me to begin. Where do i begin?

"Then fuck off," kei snarls like he hates me, like i'm stupid, "I don't have time for a lap dog like you." The insult doesn't hurt because it's true—even if it really, really is true—it hurts because he's lying to me. It hurts because i keep ignoring all the signs to turn myself around. It hurts because kei is right in front of me, offering me a helping hand for the umpteenth time since we met as kids.

i look at it. It's not there, but i look at it. There's blood on his palm from the other two times i've seen him die. i hesitate when i brush my fingers against his. "kei, how are you doing this?" i force eye contact on him. He questions me loudly. He's a little too smart and a little too stupid. "How can you just turn your back on him? How do i do that?"

"You're lost." There it is; my name, myself, my own person.

i tightly grasp his hand and my righteous identity. Away from the Sanos and their chains. Away from the intoxicating charm that sinks me deeper and deeper into this hole. "Take me with you." i hold onto the ghost of kei's hand and try wiggling myself out of Manjiro's grip.

It flashes across his eyes for a brief moment, because finally, finally all his individual efforts to rip my voice from inside of me and set me free are paying off. All i need to do is let go of Mikey. All kei needs to do is snatch my hand. i see his feet stutter in their own steps and how his fingers twitch by his side and how he's psyching himself up to reach out for me.

And i shrink back. i choose Manjiro again. "No, you're right," i sigh, laughing to myself like i'm not cutting down all the warning signs kei's been leaving for me, "That'll just cause more problems." Now i'll never get to him—not past the torii gates and certainly not past death. "Take care of Tora for me."

kei scans me up and down one last time. i don't know if it's pity, resentment, or even anger the emotion shining in his gaze. He turns his back on me with a single scoff that he has to force out of his throat. Of course i trust him to tear all of my stitches off one by one, of course i trust him to remove this weight off my shoulders. It's Mikey the one i don't trust.

It's fine, really. Even if i didn't have the words back then, kei will forever be here by my side. In spirit and in heart and leaning against the backrest of his Goki. If it has to be like this, i think it's fine. i'll never know more than this and i'll live with it. How differently would things have turned out if i had followed kei out of the shrine? Would Mikey's grip on me have worsened? Or would it have vanished completely? His stance on traitors has never been clear, especially when he ticks back and forth like a metronome with a distorted tempo. Hypotheticals are useless. i can hide behind kei all i want for the rest of my life, but i can't run away from Manjiro.

kei's not here anymore for me to find solace in, though. He hasn't been here for the past two years. It's not like he's gone forever, of course—after all, death is only temporary, so i'm sure at some point, he's bound to come back. He's come back every time. He'll extend his hand out to me and drag me along again in typical kei fashion. He'll make an effort to not have me sink and i'll listen this time. i will listen. i swear i will. He'll let me know when it's all said and done, give me a ride home, raid my fridge even. 

It's alright, it's okay, it's fine. i've known it all along. In the middle of fighting, in the middle of a kids' game, things take a turn for the worse and steal the glow of the moon from kei's smile. Things don't make sense. Next to Mikey, it's all chaos, but i'm not next to Mikey in this junkyard, because he's too busy wanting to kill Tora. i fight my own fight against Valhalla members, and i figure that's the difference between me and Manjiro. i don't want to fight my friends; i don't want to fight Tora; i don't want to fight kei.

Breaking Tora won't do any of us any good. It won't bring Shin back, it will put murder in Mikey's hands, and we'll be losing a friend we only just managed to get back. We're here to get kei back, not to push Tora farther away. i watch it all happen, gasping for air and choking on my own bloodied nose. kei collapses, someone—Takemichi? Or is it Chifuyu?—mentions a stab wound, there's blood but it's not inside kei, and Manjiro.

Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. i've seen this already. Manjiro's killed Tora twice before. kei. kei has died twice before, in timelines Takemichi didn't know about yet. Mikey is bashing Tora's face in with just one of his fists. Honestly, it doesn't really matter. Whatever happens here, Mikey will become a murderer anyway two years from now when he doesn't bother holding back against South.

But kei. Will kei come back?

i mean, of course he will. It's kei, after all. kei knows his weaknesses and his strengths; kei knows death can't be permanent, especially not for him. He'll come back, because he's Baji Keisuke—because he's kei. And i wish i could blame him and tell him he's wrong when he chooses Tora over himself and over Chifuyu and over everyone and over me. He chooses Tora the same way i'm always choosing Mikey, so i should have seen this coming. But he's wrong. But it's his choice. But he's kei, and kei doesn't die—not forever, at least.

i'm far away and on my own and silent as i watch him die. i'm far away but i can hear the way he says my name and how awfully dissonant it rings next to Mikey's when he lists all of our friends. He swears, right there, on his deathbed, that we're all his treasure and he wanted to protect us. He won't always be there for me to hide behind, will he? He wanted to protect me. He—He wanted to—kei wanted to. He wanted to. kei really wanted to.

kei. kei is dead, isn't he?

He died in Chifuyu's arms. The last word out of his mouth was a name and it was not mine. He died. kei died. kei is dead. kei's not here anymore, he's all but the ghost in the back of my head, playing, "Chifuyu's unhinged!" so i can hear him laugh again. Although i've convinced myself it's fine, i'm starting to think it's not. Maybe, just maybe.

i look at Manjiro.

It's not fine.

—あごす (agosu) • 2022

#it's (not) fine #tokyo revengers #tokrev #baji keisuke #baji #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #angst

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 195.2: Hobbies (Part 2)

You can read Part 1 here, if you'd like. Or read this as a stand alone; all you need to know is that Harry learned to make Turkish Pottery.

Draco stood in the doorway, quite certain that he couldn't be seeing what his eyes thought they were seeing. There was no world in which he could be staring at Harry Potter.

If it was Potter, he seemed to have grown even more attractive in the four years since last Draco saw him. Where his hair had been shorn close to his head, it now was long enough for him to pull into a messy topknot; his face had been clean-shaven and now he had a neat, tidy beard. He'd been in pristine, formal auror robes at the last function they'd happened upon each other during, and now he sat with his legs spread wide around the kick wheel, jeans tattered and splattered with clay, wearing an olive green Henley that made his bronze skin glow, sleeves rolled up exposing his forearms, hands covered in clay.

And Draco couldn't think, couldn't even form words, because in no world was it acceptable for someone to look that fucking hot when they were that fucking messy.

Finally, he found his voice, since Potter was just sitting there and staring right back, the piece he'd been constructing now a crumpled heap of clay. "Potter?"

"Err, both by name and by trade," he replied, "yes."

And Draco couldn't quite help himself, he huffed a laugh, because this was so ridiculous, so utterly preposterous, that what else was he meant to do?

"I'm guessing you're surprised to see me."

He huffed a laugh, "I think anyone would be surprised to see you here."

(Read more below the cut)

Potter hummed, scraping the white clay off the wheel and dropping it into a bucket as he moved to standing. "I'd like to keep it that way, if it's all the same to you."

He took a step back, "Are you going to try to obliviate me?" he asked, not keen on having anyone mess with his mind.

The other man blinked at him, "The thought hadn't even occurred to me." He went to the sink and washed his hands, "I was just going to ask your price for keeping it a secret," he added, looking over his shoulder at Draco.

"Oh," he replied, shoulders easing a bit. "No, of course. I won't tell anyone."

Potter raised an eyebrow and turned around, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the sink. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," he insisted. "I'm sure you had your reasons for leaving. Circe knows I've thought about it enough," he added. "I would like to purchase some of your work though, if you're amenable," he said, since that was why he'd stopped here in the first place.

Those keen green eyes, scrutinized him for a moment longer, weighing him, before deciding to drop whatever thoughts had been swirling around his head. "Sure," he said easily. "That's why I'm here," he added with a shrug.

"Your work is," Draco shook his head, "mind-blowingly incredible."

Potter laughed and Draco watched from the corner of his eye as he pushed off the sink and wandered over closer to where Draco was looking at the wall of tea sets. "Thanks."

"Do you do it all by hand?"

The other man looked over at him, "As opposed to?"

"Using magic?"

"Oh," he said, eyebrows raising like the idea surprised him, "Yeah, everything is handmade. I," he shrugged, "use magic to help with cleaning up but the whole point of starting pottery was to have something to do with my hands. My magic-" he broke off, "well. I'm sure you read the papers when it was splashed across every front page."

Draco had been exceedingly curious about that, "Well, one never knows quite what to believe when reading those rags," he said.

The corner of Potter's mouth quirked, "That is," he sighed while he searched for the right words, "refreshingly nice to hear."

He hummed, "Well, I like to hope that people don't believe all that they read about me."

"What brought you in?" Potter asked, graciously changing topics.

Draco laughed, "Luna has one of your tea sets," he said, gesturing to the display in front of him. "It's beautiful," he added. "I asked her where she got it and she told me the name of your shop. Didn't bother to mention that it was you running it, though."

Potter chuckled, "That checks out."

He picked up a pretty blue teacup, examining the intricate designs all of the different shades of blues and the one cheerful pop of yellow.

"Well," he said, "I'll leave you to look." He caught a loose curl and tried to tuck it back into his bun. "Let me know if you have any questions."

Truth be told, Draco had a thousand questions. And some of them were even about Potter’s work.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask, it wasn’t his place, and anything that he wanted to know was ultimately just to satisfy his curiosity about where Potter had gone, what he’d done while he was there, and why he’d left.

Eventually, after picking up various pieces to test the way the different cups felt as he held them in his hand, he settled on a set that was a deep, earthy brown on the outside, glazed until it looked almost wet with how shiny it was. But it was the inside that Draco was really taken with. The inside was painted with blues and teals and whites, it looked like a constellation exploding into being and he couldn’t wait to have a cup of tea and watch the image appear as he drank it.

“Find something you liked?” Potter asked, looking up from a bowl he was painting.

“So many things that I liked,” he replied with a laugh.

Potter smiled at him, bright and earnest. “Thank you.” He set down his paint brush and moved to the counter so he could start packaging the tea set.

Draco watched his sure, graceful movements as he wrapped each cup and the double pot in paper and tidily boxed it up.

After paying with his muggle bank card, Draco said, “thank you. I,” he swallowed, “I won’t tell anyone you’re here.”

Potter leaned his elbows on the counter, green eyes searching Draco’s face. “I believe you,” he replied.

The other man reached out to hand Draco the box and their fingers brushed and Draco was shocked by a jolt of magic so strong he couldn’t help but gasp. It didn’t hurt, it was a sort of pleasant tingling that he felt race up his arm and then down his spine leaving something bright and hot in its wake.

“Shit,” Potter hissed, wandlessly catching the box with Draco’s tea set in it and holding out a steadying hand to Draco but not touching him. “Sorry. Godric, I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

He nodded, “What was that?”

“My magic,” he shook his head, “it’s close to the surface sometimes. It doesn’t happen with muggles,” he hastened to add like he thought Draco might be worried that he was breaking the statue of secrecy. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not hurt?”

He shook his head, “it didn’t hurt at all.”

“Oh,” Potter said, as though it was a surprise. “Most people say it’s like when you get shocked with static electricity.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, not entirely sure how to say that it had felt nice without admitting that was the case. “It just surprised me.”

He held out the box again, keeping his fingers back, and Draco took it. A small part of his brain was tempted to reach out and touch him again, to hold his hand, see if prolonged contact would lessen or strengthen the feeling.

He resisted.

“What did your healers say was causing that?” he asked as he walked backwards toward the door.

“No one knows,” Potter replied with a shrug.

He frowned, that was a bit disconcerting. “I’m a healer.”

“I know.”

Something thrilled in the pit of his stomach to know that Potter had kept tabs on him. “I specialize in psychological and trauma induced magi-care.”

The other man tilted his head, “for people who’ve suppressed their magic because of trauma.”

“Sometimes,” he agreed. “But also people for whom the opposite it true.”

“My understanding was that your work largely revolves around children and teens,” Potter replied, obviously making the connection between what Draco was saying and what he was implying.

He hummed, “Sometimes,” he affirmed. “Often, even. But I don’t specialize in a particular age group. The field has grown quite a bit in the past few years,” he said, leaving the ‘since you’ve been away’ left unsaid. “I’d,” he swallowed nervously, “be happy to see you, if you are interested. A lot of people really struggled right after the war and the wizarding community has never been good about mental health care. It’s possible that your healer-” he broke off and cleared his throat. “Well. It’s possible that we know more now than we knew then. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

Potter stared at him for a long moment and Draco had to resist the urge to fidget and start talking again.

“Well,” he said again. “Here’s my card, in case you ever decide it’s something you’re interested in.” He flicked his business card toward Potter, using a little wandless magic to help it arrive at its destination.

Then Draco turned and fled the shop without waiting for anything more to be said on the matter.

————————————

To be continued.

#drarry #part 2 #100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #oof #the author is a dirty liar. #there will be more than 2 parts #I have no self control #planning to finish up the next (hopefully final?) part tomorrow #healer draco #harry potter takes up pottery #Potter Harry Potter

[pretensesoup]

How to Publish a Book, pt 1

I told @tryxyhijinks I was gonna turn this into a shitpost, so here we go: how to publish an ebook in ten easy steps.

Write the book. This is, believe it or not, the fun part.

Edit the book. Slightly less easy, but you have to do this, no matter what anyone else has told you about "minimum viable product" or what have you. You can force your friends to read it, you can have a program read it aloud to you, you can read it backwards, you can hire someone to line edit your work, you can do some or most of the above, just get it edited. (Additional point: when hiring a professional, if you're happy with the plot, ask for line or copyediting; if you're not sure about plot points, ask for developmental editing; if you just need guidance, you may want to start with an editorial letter.)

Get a cover. You can make one yourself or pay someone to do it. You're going to want it to be about 1600x2500 pixels and 72 dpi. It's good to have a really nice cover, because covers sell books.

Typeset the book. I use Atticus to create an epub file. If you are also doing a print version or you are a control freak, I recommend it. Vellum and Reedsy are about the same, I think. If you have a lot of illustrations--big ones, I mean, not just an author photo--you should beg, borrow, or steal a copy of InDesign. You can use Calibre to compress your output epub file if you want to make sure you earn every available penny. However, my book is 6mb and it is about 8 cents to download. Also, if you're trying to do this on the cheap, you really can just do it in Word. The layout won't be as fancy, but you can do it. (Layout granularity, from least to most granular, is probably Word->Atticus->InDesign.)

If you want to publish under a press name that is not your name, you will need to start a business. Laws around taxes and registration may vary depending on where you are, but in general, you will want to register your name with your state or county registrar (for me, this cost $30 and I had to get a piece of paper notarized). Then you can get a business checking account (for me this part was free--I went through the bank I already have accounts with). In the US, sole proprietorships like this are taxed as pass-through entities, so you will pay personal income taxes on whatever money you make, but you don't have to pay corporate income taxes. If you are publishing books that could possibly get you sued (e.g., The Big Book of Welding While Juggling or Now You're Cooking with Napalm) you may want to form an LLC. Talk to a lawyer.

Open a KDP account. If you hate the Zon and want to only publish somewhere else (Apple Books, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, whatever), that's fine--the process is about the same. If you think you previously had a KDP account and then didn't use it, search your emails etc. to try to find out, because if they figure that out, they'll close both accounts and then you won't get paid.

Add your new title to the catalog (you will need to add metadata, like your name, series name if there is one, and a description of the book) and set the prices. Unless your book is super big, you'll probably earn more if you select the 70% option. For some reason, I changed a few of the prices. If you're planning to publish on several platforms, I don't recommend this--just set your price in one place and then let it convert those. Otherwise, you'll have to reinput everything over and over, because it's in the terms of service that you need to price things the same on Kobo as you do on Amazon (and so on).

Set the day of publication and tell people about it. Like your mom. Your weird aunt who's always so supportive. Your friend who has been listening to you bitch about how hard writing is for the past six months.

???

Profit.

Q: Hey, I want my book in several online stores, not just Amazon.

A: You have a few options. Draft2Digital/Smashwords and IngramSpark both distribute digitally to various places so you only have to set things up once. But they take a cut of the profit for this service. You can also set up independent accounts with each store and upload your stuff.

Q: What happens in step 9?

A: You know. Meet other indie writers and try to gain their trust. Read a lot. Work on the sequel. Get some sleep, because deadlines are exhausting, even self-imposed ones. Learn about advertising. That sort of thing.

Next time, I'll do the paper side of things.

#selfpublishing #self publishing #indie authors #indie publishing #how to #how to publish a book

[bookworm-center]

Previous part below:

Dirtyhands and the Bloodbender: Chapter VIII

Y/n L/n: The Crew of Crows

I sit right outside the door of Kaz's office. My knees are tucked into my chest, head in my hands. To anyone just passing by, it would look like I'm sleeping, but I'm wide awake. I'm listening to the meeting behind the closed doors, listening to the job, listening to Kaz revealing that Wylan is Van Eck's son. I already knew that. Kaz had told me, long before he didn't trust me anymore.

I don't mean to fall asleep, but somehow I do. Volca plague my dreams, blurry faces of people I knew screaming down at me. The phrases they scream are all ones I've heard before, all things that make my head spin in circles and make my heart clench.

The rapping of Kaz's cane pulls me out of my stupor. I tilt my head up in acknowledgement. I'm not used to him seeing me so frazzled, so out of my element. I quickly get to my feet, putting on a scowl that mimicks his.

"What are you doing here? I told you, you're not doing the job." Kaz asks, but he knows as well as I do that I won't back down that easily.

"I'm Y/n L/n. I don't let my friends stumble into danger without me."

Kaz scoffs. "You lied about your name, how am I supposed to believe anything else you say?"

I momentarily stiffen. He knew? "We're all thieves and crooks, Kaz. How do you expect me not to lie?"

"I don't expect you not to lie. I just expect that you don't lie to me." Kaz walks away as I stare at his retreating figure.

Then a smirk crosses my face. I knew where they would be, I knew what they were doing, I knew everything that the others knew about this job. All I had to do was get there first.

I walk back to my room at the Slat, where, to my surprise, Inej and Jesper sit on the bed. Wylan stands near them, giving me a little wave. Nina bursts out of my small bathroom, hair damp, before grinning at the sight of me. "Finally!" She plops down on the bed and motions for me to do the same.

I pull up a chair for myself and Wylan and we both sit. "Why are you all here?"

"Nina told us about Kaz. About how you aren't on the job." Jesper says, reaching for a cookie on my side table.

"Why?"

"Because we're your friends," Nina mumbles through a mouthful of cookie crumbs. "And friends let friends do dangerous things together." Then she smirks, lips covered in a coating of cookie dust.

Inej rolls her eyes. "What Nina means is that Kaz is being irrational. He's trying to protect you."

"I don't need protecting." I can't help but snap. Wylan flinches and I wish I didn't say a thing at all. I don't like hurting my friends, but I don't like appearing weak even more. This is Ketterdam, anyone weak is the target of schemes and ploys.

"We know. That's why we're smuggling you aboard." Jesper smiles, twirling his twin guns.

Wylan hands me a piece of paper without meeting my eyes. He's never been uncomfortable with me before, but I suppose he's worried I'll hate him now. I wouldn't judge him for what his dad did, though I can understand why he didn't want to acknowledge his parents. I don't either.

The paper has an address, one I'd already overheard, but it's nice to know my information is right, despite the fact that Kaz will most definitely have a backup boat.

"Get there early okay?" Inej says as they all walk out the room. "And dress for the cold."

I nod, muttering "thank you" as they left.

Nina kisses my cheek, before wishing me good luck in Ravkan. It's been so long since I've heard Ravkan that I thought I would have forgotten it. Surprisingly enough, I still know the language. I repeat the phrase back to her, kissing her other cheek.

The door shuts behind them and my smile fades, remembering what Kaz had told me. He knew. He knew, and he would use it against me or my brother, just as he's doing to Wylan.

Author's Note: Ooh~ Who's Y/n's brother? It's a very cliche route, but I plan to twist it into my own. 🧡

Tag list: @fandomscompilation

#grishaverse #bookworm center #six of crows #fanfic #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #dirtyhands and the bloodbender

[tvrningout-a]

i think i've mentioned that it varies how seriously drinking a vampire's blood is treated depending on the vampire ( some consider it as a step towards marriage/forging a long-standing bond whereas others treat it very casually with romantic/sexual partners ), and cyrillo himself takes it pretty seriously. he won't offer his blood to just anyone, particularly after what happened with hulda -- being able to feel his apprehension towards their relationship only served to push her away and hurt her. he doesn't want to make the same mistake twice and thus is very selective with whom he shares his blood.

that being said, if cyrillo offers his blood, it is with the intention that he wants to be with you for the foreseeable future. he doesn't want anyone else, doesn't believe he will want anyone else as long as you're alive. if he offers his blood to you, it's because he doesn't have any doubts about you, about his feelings. if he offers his blood to you, then it's as good as him offering his hand in marriage, tbh. he will not phrase it that way, i don't think, more likely explaining that he wants to give himself to you in his entirety just as he wishes to have every piece of you.

to offer his blood is to offer his heart and soul; it is a connection of such intimacy, in his mind, that marriage does not matter. who cares about a piece of paper, about titles? he just wants you. you're all he needs.

#marriage is nice bc it gives cyrillo a reason to be like 'hehe look at my spouse <3 /my/ spouse so gorgeous so perfect <3' like a sap!! #but truly he doesn't care as long as he and his partner are on the same page #but catch me giggling and kicking my feet as i think about cyrillo offering his blood to somebody #he gets so intense and serious when it comes to this stuff bc it's just like!! yes he's very old and yes in vampire culture #it's normal to have multiple casual partners but when he has romantic feelings he stops all the casual stuff #and it's only the one (or two/three if a polyship) person for him #listen i could just ramble about him and being in love bc i think he's so cute and sweet but i'll stop :' ))) #headcanons | cyrillo

[jerzwriter]

What are some of Kaycee/Casey’s dealbreakers? Something that if a date would do or say would have her thinking “yeap, this won't work”.

Thanks for the ask, Nonny.

1 ) Smoking. It may seem trivial to some, but it's not. Have you ever kissed a smoker compared to a non-smoker? Have you ever been forced to live with a smoker? Have you ever gotten sick from secondhand smoke? It's not trivial. So they honestly never even dated anyone who did. If you don't go there, to begin with, you're not going to fall in love.

2) If they're rude to the waiter. And I'm using waiter figuratively. Anyone who treats any other human being like they're "less than" is a non-starter for her. She wouldn't even entertain a friendship with them.

3) Vastly different morals/values. No person will ever agree with someone 100%. But she has worked her ass off to fight for the things she believes in, and she is not going to be with someone who does not share those beliefs. This ties into #2 above, but it goes beyond. Are you looking to take rights away from women, POC, the LGBTQ community? Hard pass. People can disagree, in her opinion, but not in ways that divorce other people from their humanity. (Racists, homophobes, and misogynists need not apply.)

4) Stinginess. Kaycee/Casey is a very giving person, and if they see someone who is overtly stingy, they're not a match.

Now - all of these are "up front" kinds of things. But you may have asked this in a "She's already with Ethan/Tobias, they're already in love... but what could make her walk away?" sort of way. If so...

If they absolutely, positively never wanted to get married.

Kids would not be a dealbreaker - it would be a serious discussion - And does she think that the piece of paper is that big of a deal? No... but there is more to it than just a piece of paper, in her opinion. And if she felt the person she was with would just never be able to make that level of a commitment to her, she'd probably move on.

Deception.

I say deception and not cheating because cheating is not limited to fucking someone else, in my opinion, nor my girls. If there is lying going on (other than for a surprise). If there is hiding the phone, hiding mail, hiding in general, there is going to be a talk and very likely a walk.

Any form of abuse, of course, though she's not seeing that from my guys.

Making a major life decision without consulting her. "Hon, I am quitting Edenbrook and taking a job at Mt. Saini in NYC." Then I hope you enjoy NYC as a single man because I'm not going. lol And the thing is, in a situation like this, she would be very willing to work together to accommodate... but if the decision is made without her in mind, it shows an utter disregard for her, and she knows her worth.

Thanks for the question, Nonny!

#kaycee and casey #asks #asks answered

[tonispencerart]

Brain Break!

I don't know about anyone else, but when I have lots of stuff to do, my brain has a bit of a freakout and needs to do anything but that! Yesterday, I found one of the many leftover wooden panels from my last series of paintings (that I haven't actually gotten around to showing you yet... I will! One day!) and dug out some of the reference images I collected over the past year or so, picking one at random because I'm actually terrible at making a decision about anything. I made sure it would fit on the support. Plus, it's small enough to keep it interesting for my weirdo ADHD brain and it's small enough to do it relatively quickly so I won't get bored or distracted (hopefully!) before I've finished it. I have so many abandoned pieces! I'll get around to them one day... I do like painting on wood. I even sort of enjoy the priming process, even though it can take a while to get it how I want it. I prefer painting on wood far more than I do on paper or canvas. I find canvas a bit irritating to paint on, especially if it's already stretched. I don't like the 'bounce' so I typically end up adding several layers of gesso before I paint onto a stretched canvas. Anyway, once I traced the image, flipped and traced again, and then flipped it back and transferred it to the wooden panel, I checked the time and it was about 1:30 in the morning... so I went to bed! I spent most of today mixing my skin tones in acrylic paint. In theory, I have enough mixed paint for several portraits... I started this little painting with the background. The last time I painted a portrait like this, I had a black background but I was done mixing paints for now! I usually mix my own black paint but honestly, I can't be bothered. So I went with a nice grey, straight from the tube. It should offset the white of the shirt nicely, anyway. Believe it or not, painting the skin tones in the face is the most cathartic part! Oh, there will still be quite a bit of swearing, but that's all part of the fun and process. I expect to be telling myself to "Trust the process!" more than a few times. I was tempted to paint it in unnatural colours - because really, as long as the values are in the right place, it doesn't matter what colours you use - but I figured that I need a bit more practice actually painting skin with acrylic paint before I feel confident enough to start playing with different colours. Anyway, this is as far as I've gotten...

#art #fine art #traditional art #jamie bower #painting #acrylic paint #painting on wood #tiny portraits #portrait #stranger things #vecna stranger things #henry creel #adhd artist #neurodivergent artist

[era-story-writer]

ERA - CH.1 PT.4 - A Simple Question And A Strong Response

There was silence in the car ride. They pulled into the driveway of their home and entered the house in silence and everyone went to their own rooms. Amani was preparing to make a compelling agreement with his father. Persuade him with his words and most likely empty favors. The biggest challenge for Amani would be staying up until his father came back home from work. It would be hard for him considering he was tired from everything that happened today but waiting was his only chance. Now or never. So Amani waited and waited and waited until he had to go eat with his brothers. After that he went back to the window and waited. Amani fell asleep and woke up a few hours later. It must've been late because no one else was awake anymore. “No . . wait did I?” Amani thought he had messed up the only chance to talk to his father peacefully. Amani clutched the papers and started to walk upstairs until he heard noise in the kitchen. Amanis hope and excitement refilled in his body as he ran back downstairs and sprinted into the kitchen.

“Dad! Dad! I wanted to ask you something really impor-!”

Amani didn't finish because his father wasn’t in the kitchen. Instead, next to the fridge was a man with messy black hair and dull blue eyes.

“This is the Tempis residence right? I'm not at the wrong house?”

“N-no.”

Amani had never seen this person before. Was he one of his brother's friends? Then he noticed something that made his veins grow cold. The man had wings.

“Sorry to ask but is there a man named Aias that lives here by any chance?” Amani just nodded his head up and down.

“You know I never thought Aias would baby sit anyone.”

“He's my dad.”

The winged man was taken aback “I'm sorry?”

“He’s my dad, my three brothers and I live here.”

The winged man started to chuckle.

“What's so funny?”

“I'm sorry kit, it's just that you don’t look anything like your dad. In fact you look more like -

The man stopped laughing almost instantly and he looked at Amani a little more carefully. “He wouldn't.” The man said with a glare that made Amani's hair stand on its end. So he took the signal and ran.

“No wait-

Amani didn’t wait for an explanation just ran upstairs. He was going to slam open the door but then remembered that his dad might be asleep or he might not be there at all but he wasn't going to take that chance. Amani slowly opened the door.

“Dad, are you awake? I need to talk to you.”

His father was wearing red and orange pajama pants and a plain black T-shirt. He was already in his bed but not yet asleep. “No but you should be bud, what's wrong?” Amani held his piece of paper and gave it to his dad. “There's gonna be this event with a familiar and it's gonna be in the classroom and i was hoping you would come with me and we can see it together!” Aias quickly put the papers away without looking back at Amani.

“No.”

“What why not!”

“You're too young to know what a familiar should look like.”

“There's one downstairs though!”

“There's one . . . what?”

Aias grabbed the gun from his drawer and they both went downstairs. The kitchen light was still on but the man was gone. Aias checked the place and everything was the same as it was before as if there was nothing there.

“There's no one here champ.”

“There was a familiar here and he had wings and . . .and he asked if this was the right house!”

“I have work tomorrow and the paper said parents or guardians and you know I won't be able to take you. Just go back to bed, you're probably seeing things.”

“I wasn't, I swear! Please believe me just this once!”

“Even if you did see a familiar, you're not going to that event.”

“WHY NOT!”

“Don't you dare raise your voice at me. Familiars are dangerous creatures that are unpredictable and can’t be trusted no matter what!”

Amani just ran back upstairs and slammed the door to his door. This of course woke up everyone in the house. Amani knew this would lead to a fight with Asher and his father but at this point he didn’t care. As the frustrating tears slid down his face quietly he whispered to himself a phrase that he used too much for his liking “You never let me do what I want.” He rubbed his tears away and muttered something he promised himself something he would do. “I'm going whether you want me to or not.” Amani pulled the covers over himself facing the wall and fell asleep unaware of his father checking on him later that night.

#own story #own style #oc story #hope you like it #ERA

[peachyysugaa]

scream

― youtuber!park sunghoon x streamer!gn!reader

it's hard to stream horror video games when your neighbor is always filming dangerous mukbangs and screaming.

genre: e2l, neighbors au, angst to fluff, humor

wc: 3.2k

warnings: horror game mentions, cw food and mentions of cooking live things (inspired by this youtuber), sunghoon's a jerk at first :<, one mention of underage drinking (don't follow mc's example pls fisnfkskf), a few swear words

part of my youtuber enhypen series, the last upload! feel free to read on its own! ♞──────────────────────────♞

"AAAGH!" and there it is. your brows furrow upon hearing your neighbor's cry. does he not understand how thin these walls are?! there's a reason only college students stay here! grimacing, you ignore it and move your mouse to look around the dark house.

"oh shoot, i wonder if he's behind me?" you say to your audience while watching your viewers fill the chat with your custom subscriber emojis. "i'm going to do it, everyone, just―"

"OHMYGODOHMYGOD WHYYY?!"

more like why couldn't you be quiet?! you close your eyes in frustration but attempt to keep a straight face for the people watching you. "sorry if you heard that, i guess someone's having a bad day?" you chuckle nervously as you turn around in the video game to see a black slender figure. "oh! whoa, okay, i'm just going to run over here."

you got out of the creepy house and made it to the back of it to see a piece of paper on the wall. "oh, here! okay, this is going to be my last piece unless―whoa!!" the jumpscare comes up, and you're left taken aback as the game over screen appears. laughing at your shocked self, you're filled with glee upon seeing the audience laugh or scream with you. "that was really fun, everyone. i got some homework to do though, so i'll see you all next time i stream! bye bye!" you wave goodbye to the camera and watch as the viewer number drops gradually. after a few minutes, you shut off your stream, place your headphones on its stand, and push back in your secret labs chair with a sigh. "why did i have to live next to a maniac...?" you grumble.

you got out of the creepy house and made it to the back of it to see a piece of paper on the wall. "oh, here! okay, this is going to be my last piece unless―whoa!!" the jumpscare comes up, and you're left taken aback as the game over screen appears. laughing at your shocked self, you're filled with glee upon seeing the audience laugh or scream with you. "that was really fun, everyone. i got some homework to do though, so i'll see you all next time i stream! bye bye!" you wave goodbye to the camera and watch as the viewer number drops gradually. after a few minutes, you shut off your stream, place your headphones on its stand, and push back in your secret labs chair with a sigh. "why did i have to live next to a maniac...?" you grumble.

as if on cue, another scream is heard from the other side of the wall. "EEE! oh my god, i'm going to do it, i'm going to do it!"

what on earth was this kid doing that he was screaming every weekend? you didn't even scream that much, and you played horror games for a living! your stomach growls as you're thinking this and as a living human being, you listen to it and get up to make ramyeon. however, even as you're making your dinner and even as you're trying to enjoy it with some show playing on the tv, of course, you have to be subjected to your neighbor's loud yells. once you're finished, you notice how oddly quiet it is and decide to give whoever this guy was a piece of your mind.

marching over with your keys in hand, you knock aggressively on apartment no. 505 until it opens. behind the door is a tall male with a face so well-proportioned you're thinking it's possible that some being above sculpted it themselves. his nose is accented with one mole on the side of his nose bridge and another a few centimeters under the opposite eye. "can i help you?" his rich voice asks with a slight sting to it.

you snap yourself out of it by blinking, incredulous that you almost forgot your mission just because he has a handsome face. "yea, you can help me by being quieter," you boldly state with your arms crossed in front of your chest. "you realize you're not the only one living in this complex, right? the walls are so thin, i can hear you screaming every time."

the male raises an eyebrow at you and scoffs to the side as if he can't believe what he's hearing. "can you just deal with it? some of us have to make a living."

"news flash, dude, that's all of us! the only people who would be willing to live in this place are college students! listen, i stream horror games for my work, and i don't even scream as loud as you," you retort and point your index finger from you to him. "so i think you should learn how to keep your volume down."

"and why haven't i heard these complaints from anyone else?" he tries to debate back.

"maybe because they're just quietly tolerating you. as for me, i can't anymore, so take this as your first warning, room 505." you turn around quickly with a huff and speed to your apartment next door.

as you're above to close the door, you hear him shout back at you. "my name's park sunghoon, room 506. remember it, because i'm going to make your life a living hell."

"l/n y/n, park sunghoon. we'll see about that." with that, you both simultaneously shut your doors with a slam that causes the walls to shudder a bit.

oh, he kept his promise alright. from stare-downs in the hallway, to bringing weird live animals in the elevator at the same time you're in there, to snarky remarks at the entrance that almost always lead to fights, park sunghoon has definitely made your life hell. to make matters worse, his screaming got even louder. you're sure that's a violation of some rule, right? wrong, the management for the building doesn't care all too much, as long as he's not doing anything illegal and nobody else has complained. you get what you paid for is the right saying here.

you were not having it. as a streamer and college student, weekends are your days with the freest time, and he took that from you. you found out that he was not just a college student but a youtuber, one that filmed dangerous mukbangs with live animals that he would then cook and eat, and because of that, he had also chosen to film on weekends. that was exactly why you had always encountered his screaming on days you were streaming, and now, tired of how petty he was, you decided to just cram your weekdays with school and streaming.

at first, it was fine, but as your days became packed with more studying on the weekends at the library to avoid sunghoon, you grew tired: tired of the crammed weekdays and for god's sake, tired of living your life running away. taking out a bottle of peach soju that your upperclassman dancer friend had snuck for you, you pop it open and make your way to the balcony that you barely used.

as you take a swig of the alcoholic beverage, you prop yourself onto the railing and gaze at the buildings before you, their lights blinding you from the stars of the night sky. maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's your low energy state, but something compels you to scream. "i'm so tired!!" you yell out to the skyline. letting out a sigh, you plop down into the spare plastic chair and go for another drink.

"drinking your worries away? that's not going to solve anything," a male voice speaks up. your eyes catch sight of sunghoon, who has slid open his own balcony door. he's dressed in a casual beige hoodie and sweats as if he had spent the day just relaxing.

"as if you care," you mumble with your lips pressed against the green glass. "you're literally at the root of all my problems."

he scoffs at your statement. "this again? look, i'm getting tired of you placing all this blame on me when i'm—"

"are you so sure about that?" you calmly and sternly interrupt. the alcohol really has unlocked your usually inhibited thoughts. "why did i move my streaming days onto the weekdays when i normally spend them studying? because your screaming on the weekends always got picked up by my mic. why do i get 4 hours of sleep every day and study all night at the library on weekends?" it's like when sunghoon had taken a stick to prod at you, the floodgates burst open. you weren't stopping until you gave him a piece of your mind. "because i have to cram my streaming schedule and studying schedule to accommodate to your filming one. maybe i am blaming you, but i've tried my best to do my job all while studying and having to deal with an asshole like yourself who's so inconsiderate that he can't even do one thing for his neighbor who's practically dying to adjust their lifestyle because of someone else's."

your neighbor goes silent after that, choosing to just sigh and go back inside his apartment. you relish in the silence that comes after he shuts the door and down the rest of your bottle before heading back inside yourself. strangely after that incident, you heard less and less of sunghoon on the weekend and thus were able to return to your normal schedule. even while passing by him, he kept his mouth shut and would just nod a cordial hello. you guess what you said that night really got through to him.

and he proves that because after about three weekends, you hear a knock on your door. upon opening it, you're surprised to see sunghoon behind it, his hands behind his back as he shifts side to side. "oh, hello sunghoon," you greet him awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"hey y/n," he returns. the youtuber stops fidgeting for a moment and bows after gathering up some courage. "listen, i just want to say i'm sorry." he looks up at your face, searching for some sign of hatred and he thankfully finds none, so he continues. "i didn't realize how much of an asshole i was until you said that. i was just thinking about myself and not about you or anybody else. i hope i was able to prove it to you these past three weeks, and i promise i won't go back to my old habits."

your silence is not so reassuring, so sunghoon nervously lifts his head to peek at your face to find an astonished expression. you stammer a little bit and hold the doorframe to keep yourself in place. "u-uh... gosh, i don't know what to say, sunghoon," you stutter. then, you notice another neighbor exiting the elevator, looking at the two of you strangely since sunghoon is still lowering his head. "oh! you can stand up straight now! please."

he does as you say, smiling sheepishly, and you notice how much better he looks smiling than the usual smirks he had sent you before. "apology accepted, sunghoon."

"r-really?"

you nod. "i mean, you really have proven yourself lately, so i don't see why i shouldn't."

"great!" his smile grows wider, making you blush and look anywhere but his face. "then i have a surprise for you to start over." you shoot him a confused look that he disregards out of boyish excitement. "close up, come over to my place for a few."

"o-okay, give me a moment, i'll be right over," you say as he rushes back to his apartment. you hurriedly grab your keys and look in the mirror next to your door to smooth out your hair before you're scolding yourself for caring about looks when he literally just saw you. closing the door, you lock up, head over to room 505, and knock.

"it's open," his voice calls from inside, and with that, you push the door open to find the living space of your own apartment, except totally flipped. to your left is a small living room, complete with a two-seater couch, a tv stand, and a tv. whereas to your right, there was a dining room fit for two, the kitchen right behind it before a hallway leads to the single bedroom and bathroom. you're too busy taking in this opposite room that you don't notice the fish tank on the round table full of live fish. "come over here," he says with an enthusiastic grin.

"yah, park sunghoon. what in the world is this?" you say flabbergasted.

"i'm showing you what i do for a living and cooking you a fresh meal," is all he has to say as you grimace and reluctantly move towards him. "this is my second time cooking it, so it should go a lot better."

"and what exactly is... it?"

"mudfish, way less than what i usually have for mukbangs though." you know, you had completely forgotten what the guy did on youtube since his handsome face distracted you for a handful of moments, but now reality had set in for you: he was going to do this live in front of you.

if you're uncomfortable with cooking live fresh food, please skip to the next italicized line!

"i swear to god, park sunghoon, if you do anything stupid, consider this restart invalid. you'll be hearing from my lawyer," you unsuccessfully warn him as you watch him put on some gloves and grab a cup of salt.

"relax, you're with me. i'm practically a pro," he tries reassuring you, but then he sprinkles the salt inside the tank. the fish start splashing around violently, causing you to let out a small yelp as some splashes of water get on you. "yaaah, this is way better than last time!"

"is this what you do every weekend?!" you shout at a low volume and cover your eyes with your hands.

"you can look now, it's fine," sunghoon says, pointing at the fish. you peek through the gaps between your fingers to see that the fish have stopped moving. sunghoon smirks as you take your hands away from your face. "see? i'm a pro."

coating and deep frying starts here!

he starts to coat them one by one in egg and flour and lays them down on a baking pan lined with paper. you watch as he handles each one delicately with concentration. "do you want me to start the oil?" you offer.

"oh! that would be great, thanks! the wok is already on the stove, just turn it on," he explains. you find the wok exactly where he had told you and turn on the gas stove accordingly, as if you've been here hundreds of times before, but in reality, you just have the same appliances. by the time the oil has been heated to the right temperature, sunghoon has already finished coating the fish. the two of you work together to place each one in the oil, listening to them sizzle and pop.

"we make a good team," sunghoon comments once every fish has started frying. you take care of the tongs and move them around when appropriate. "you should come by and guest star in one of my videos."

"if it's anything like today's, no thank you," you politely reject.

"what if... i invite you to eat after i cook?" he shoots his shot again. rolling your eyes playfully, you see that the fish are all thoroughly fried and turn off the fire. with his own tongs, sunghoon puts the fish on the plate as you go off to prepare two bowls of rice. the small dining room table gets cleaned up, so the two of you can start your meal. "okay, your answer?"

"depends on how good this mudfish is," you reply, holding up a fried fish with your chopsticks. he follows suit, and you two cheer your meals together.

"i'll eat well," the both of you say in harmony. finally, you take a bite of the crispy fish and hum in satisfaction, your eyes widening.

"mm! it's really good!" you compliment as he takes joy in your pleased expression.

"i'll take that as a yes to my question then?"

"hoon, i'll come over whenever you want me to," you exaggerate.

"deal," he accepts quickly so that you can't take it back. and that's how your first meal went with park sunghoon. soon enough, one meal turned into two, to five, to ten, until you're basically spending a lot of time with the youtuber. pretty much every weekend, you and sunghoon set it up so that you would cook and eat together in the afternoon so that you would have the rest of the evening to stream.

at some point, you find out that his major is biology, which is similar to your own in biochemistry, so your time with sunghoon extends to studying together and eventually gaming. one of you is always at the other's place and vice versa like you couldn't be without each other for a single moment.

you're eating takoyaki with said boy in your apartment this time, staring at his well-proportioned facial features as you chew slowly and think. he catches your unwavering gaze and chuckles. "is there something on my face, y/n?"

"i'm just thinking," you vaguely reply.

"about the thing on my face?" you shake your head at this. "then what is it? i know i'm really handsome and all, but you literally see me all the time."

"that's exactly my point!" you cry out as if you hit eureka, shocking him in the process. "we're together all the time. we were literally enemies at first, and now it's like we're dating! what is this, some kind of shitty fanfiction?" yes

"well, do you want us to date?" luckily, you had just swallowed the last bit of your takoyaki ball because that could've made you choke. instead, you suddenly start coughing, and he pushes your water towards you.

the coldness of the water does nothing to help your rising temperature as you take big gulps of it. "wh-what kind of question is that?" you ask, patting your mouth dry with a nearby tissue.

"a serious one," he answers nonchalantly. "because i like you." stream dreamcatcher BEcause

"huh? since when?" you're practically in disbelief. no way sunghoon liked you back. you had just discovered your own feelings not too long ago when you had tucked him in after an intense study session and he whispered your name. ever since then, you got butterflies in your stomach around him, and not because he made it a mukbang. (but you wouldn't put it past him?)

the male rubs the back of his neck. "it's been a while. i just know that i like you."

"st-stop saying that!" you wave your hands in front of your face frantically to hide the redness you know that has spread all over.

"oh? or what, room 506?" he gets up from his seat across from you to prop his elbows on the table, getting a closer look at your cute, embarrassed appearance as he rests his head on his hands. "make me," he prods some more.

reminiscent of the first time you cooked together, you peeked through your fingers to witness his adorable grin waiting for you. as if wanting you to seal the deal, he closes his eyes and smiles with just his lips. you shyly reach out to grab his cheeks, taking a moment to brush the fringe out of his eyes so you can adore the moles that dotted his face, and slowly bring your own lips towards his to press them together in a kiss.

it's short but sweet, and soon you're pulling away and finding your fingers more interesting. sunghoon's eyes flutter open and fondly gazed at you. "be mine?" he speaks up.

"if you stop making my heart scream, then yeah," you mumble, stealing a glance at his smug smile. he laughs, stands up, and walks over to your side of the table. turning your chair around as if you weighed nothing, he places his hands on the table behind you, engaging you in between his long limbs.

"sweetheart, that's the whole point," he says, leaning down to chase your lips and kiss you until your heart can't take it anymore. you're both screaming on the inside as your hearts keep pounding in your chests, but at least this time it's from your pure feelings towards each other.

a/n: omg this is the last of captured on camera EEE thank you all so so much for being here with me on this journey of my first one-shot series <3 this really shows my growth as a writer, and i'm so glad i could share it with y'all! i hope you all look forward to my next one-shot series~

taglist: @cha-raena @imjustme-things @misoiishi @rikitaiyaki @fiantomartell

#enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #enhypen x reader #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fanfiction #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon angst #park sunghoon imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #park sunghoon scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst

[the-empress-7]

Why are people lamenting as if its the end of the world,? talking about loosing faith in the BRF and talking about wanting to be a republic (It is your Prerogative if that's your wish) but don't be pinning this inconsequential matter on the BRF. She won on a technicality because the DM used her words verbatim in their article hence copy right claim which she won at the summary judgement.

Of all the things and scandals that the BRF has been involved in and THIS is what makes you leave the BRF? Because Mrs Capone Royal hasn't gotten hers? Do you people even know who you are talking about? This is the woman who self sabotages herself with out any outside help, how many things has she done in the past 2 years that has let the world she her for who she is? This is a woman who believes in her own hubris. Even when Icarus was insulting the gods and was warned he didn't listen and in the end plummeted due to his own Hubris. And now that she has had a semblance of victory she will be more haughty and more bold. I say let her, maybe she will try this with the US papers next, maybe fox news or something or the other. 1/4

Y'all are seriously thin skinned. We all know and knew what the score was with the case after Jason testified but you are acting shocked and it seems most of you don't understand the law and its technicalities. Bare in mind Jason gave ammunition to ANL when he confirmed she lied about contributing with FF, the world now can confirm. Its little things like this that destroy her reputation among the circles she is trying to infiltrate. Think of it as death by a thousand cuts, Slow but no less fatal. I will point you towards Amber Turds case, yeah she won but is anyone associating with her after the truth came out that she was an abuser? Disney want to keep her but the consumers are adamant that they won't watch if she is there. Even Jason Momoa wants her out and he is the star of the Aqua man movie. 2/4

The happier and emboldened by this "victory' she is the faster her down fall is. we will be oversaturated with stories about this for at max a week then come Christmas and then what? What else does she have? there is nothing. She has now armed the ANL with ammunition to go against her all the while making money form the headlines. remember Empty debes make the loudest noise. 3/4

Stop giving this woman too much power, she is not going to bring down the monarchy if anything she is strengthening the ties and good will due to her constant attacks. she is no Helena of troy just your regular run of the mill Jezebel 4/4

sorry its a long one.

How did you manage to get all four parts in one ask? I am glad you did as it all come through in one piece. Thank you for sending in your perspective.

[stormblessed95]

Is there a jikook theory you don't personally believe in?

Yes of course!

The few that I can think of off the top of my head are the What's your desire? moment from Dec 2015. I made a longer post about that here already. I personally just don't think that is what he meant, I do think the drinking conclusion is the more obvious one. But that doesn't mean I couldn't be wrong! It's possible, I, unfortunately, am not all knowing. Lol I don't mind people thinking differently, we are all just guessing after all, I personally just don't think this is as big of a moment as it otherwise seemed. Just my opinion though! There is simply too much ambiguity there for me to feel comfortable saying that I think he was implying Jimin. It IS strange how he flashed his finger over to Jimin so quickly though, so I'm willing to say I can be wrong here. I could be convinced he was pausing, clicking his tongue in consideration before deciding to just go for it and point at Jimin. Lol I just personally won't put too much stock into it, we have so much else to look at to "prove" their relationship.

Another theory I don't buy is them buying wedding rings in Toyko and subsequently that they got married. Lol the theory came from a photo of a fan spotting them in Toyko shopping and posting a photo online the next day.

They said they were in the Bvlgari jewlery store because of the sign. But that's a reflection of an ad in the shop windows. They are very Clearly in a Gucci store if you look at the actual bags they are surrounded by. BUT that being said, they also were definitely sporting matching rings on the same finger in some performances after getting back from Toyko that we hadn't seen them do before. So it's possibly that they bought rings together there. I just don't really buy they were wedding bands. Not only are the examples used in 2 different colors and Jikooks match each other exactly, the other rings had clear writing on it and while the photo is too grainy to make out what writing would be on the rings, I can't see anything resembling writing at all. I think they just bought matching accessories together because they wanted to match (which is boyfriendy enough lol) not that they got engaged.

Which brings me to the theory that Jikook reacted to Laguna during RMs red carpet answer because they got married there. No, I don't think Jimin and Jungkook are married or went international to get married. Getting married requires legal names and lots of paperwork. I signed ALOT of documents to be legally married to my husband. Lol there is a paper trail that exist in city/County government records, even if you do it in another country and keep it secret. I don't think either Jimin, Jungkook, or the rest of the members would be willing to risk being outted on the off chance someone exposed that paper trail. It's a slim chance, but still a chance and honestly, not worth it for a simple piece of paper.

Does that mean that I don't think they probably made another dynamic shift and made a life long commitment to each other at some point at the end of 2019, maybe in 2020? No, I definitely think they did. You can be married in all sense of the word without ever actually getting married. I made a post very briefly talking about that dynamic shift I think I saw in them in this post here and you can check that out if you want.

That's all I can think of off the top of my head. If I dismiss a theory as too much of a stretch, I tend to then just.... not think about them! Lol if there are any theories in particular you want me to discuss or want my personal opinions on, anyone is free to send me an ask about it specifically! I'll be turning anons back on in a few days. I hope to knock out the rest of my asks and my fanservice posts over this weekend.

#jikook #kookmin #jikook theories i dont believe #anon #ask

[passivenovember]

hi PLEASE do a follow up on islands in the stream! I need to know that teensy bit drunk Steve gets his dance with billy at the end of the night, please 😅

Hi!! Follow up to This Post at your command!! <3

--

For the bile that burns up the lining of his throat, searing watermarks against his tongue when Billy grabs her gently by the waist--

So gentle that the taffeta skirt doesn't even move--

Steve wishes he hadn't made everything so literal. He can see Billy's chest rise and fall in a sharp, gingerbread laugh. He can hear rough, coconut creamed callouses catching on the soft glitter of the girl's princess dress when Billy takes the light change as his cue to set the world on fire.

They're going to dance.

And maybe Steve wants to watch his skin char. Turn black and then gray with heat and exhaustion as he pours another cup of spiked punch--fruit-flavored. Chemical cherry. Agent orange--and swallows the whole thing in one go.

He squints his eyes hard enough to see the imprint of Billy's green suit bursting like fireworks through the darkness.

So handsome.

His heartbreaks. Splinters, maybe. Messy and sudden and impossible to put back together, when Robin grabs his arm and says, "Wanna jet?"

Steve hopes against hope, and. Fights an uphill battle in believing that when he opens his eyes, Billy won't be touching her anymore. That he'll cross the stream, instead. To Steve and their own private island.

Steve can't watch Billy touch her or anyone else. He can't, but then--

"They're dancing," Steve says to Robin.

Her eyes are soft. Blue and watery, like a muddy rain puddle, and her Mac: Ruby Red smudges at the corners when she purses her lips and drags them together. Trying to wipe the taste of shit from her mouth when she says, "You don't have to watch them."

It feels like a joke.

Like throwing in the towel. Going home. Steve crumples the little paper cup in his hand and steels his jaw. Plants his feet, when the girl tucks her pretty pink lips against Billy's throat and he closes his eyes.

Leans into it. Away from Steve.

Canyons and mountains and spikey little blocks of wood, holding pieces of their life together, strung without a heartbeat. Keeping Steve from sprinting toward them.

From tearing them apart.

Robin tugs on his arm again. "Let's go," She says.

"They're dancing."

"It's a dance," Robin tries, her nails digging in. "That's what you're supposed to do, I think."

The girl cranes her neck, lips dragging from Billy's shirt color to his cheek, to his mouth.

And her mouth, she.

Stands on her tip-toes. Searches, as Billy turns a puzzled expression like he might do it. Like he's really thinking about it. Unsheathing a gun and pulling the trigger and kissing the girl. The monster lays dead on the gymnasium floor in the suit his father bought special.

Steve's moving forward.

Robin loses her grip because he's running, almost. Shouldering his way through ugly yellow prom dresses and ruffled neck shirts, to stop it.

The kiss.

"I--"

Robin gets to him. Tugs his arm. Pulls on him, somehow. Steve doesn't feel it, but his lips say something, like. "Stop," maybe. Or, "Billy, please don't do this." Or.

"I love you, Billy. I love you so much."

Billy looks up at him through the crowd of bodies swaying together on the off-beat, and.

His lips seal a letter.

Say something, consonants and vowels making the girl look up at him with confusion glittering on her clumpy black eyelashes, and.

And everyone's turning.

Slow-motion style. Staring at him as Robin pulls him backward and Billy folds into the horizon, like the wide lens of a camera closing in on the big emotional scene at the end of the flick where the dumb jock realizes he lost the girl under the starburst disco-ball.

It's movie theater grandeur, it's. Pathetic.

Billy doesn't say anything. Everyone's staring.

The door closes against that soft pink light. Something wet and thick, like mucus, rattles in Steve's throat when Robin pulls him into her arms.

There's metal behind him.

A locker. Cold and dark blue and then they're on the ground, and Robin's swaying back and forth. They're swaying.

"It's okay," She says. "It's alright, Harrington."

Steve clings on to her. Feels shipwrecked.

Somewhere far away, the door opens. It's pink, for a moment, almost the color of the sunrise, and then scruffy black wingtips are stomping on the floor in front of him, and Robin's voice is booming in her chest.

Steve can't hear it, exactly, because he's laying right against her heart, but. She tells the wingtips to fuck off.

And the other voice is cracked down the middle when it speaks. Hurt and bleeding when it says, panicked, "Why would he do that? In front of everyone, why would he say--"

Robin pulls Steve to his feet. Angles him so he's staring down the grayscale hallway when she spits over her shoulder, says, "You're a piece of shit, you know that?" So sharp and sudden, that.

Billy swings into view.

"Steve," He says quietly. He shoves his hands in his pockets, chin jutted in a challenge. "Did you mean what you said in there?"

The walls are spinning, now. Steve sighs, long and slow, brow furrowed in confusion. "Does it matter?"

"Of course, it matters, why would you fucking--"

"You brought her here, instead of me," Steve slurs, whimpering when Robin gets an arm underneath him. "You danced with her. You look pretty together. Do you love her?"

Steve looks at him. Through him. He's so beautiful.

The roles have switched, maybe. Suddenly Steve's the desolate prom queen and Billy's the asshole who dropped a heart made of glass.

It doesn't feel like that.

Because Billy's crying. Not even trying to hide it, when he steps so close Steve's gotta rear his head back to see more than just the 412 freckles on his nose. To see all of him.

"Don't be stupid," Billy says gently. "It killed me. To see you in there, under that light in your little suit. You look gorgeous, Steve. The whole time I was with her, I just."

He gets his hands on Steve, then, fingers both sides of his face to hold him steady even as Robin hisses at him stop.

Billy ignores her, swiping his thumb in a gossamer touch across Steve's bottom lip.

"Being together, like that. Out there," Billy looks over Steve's shoulder, eyes snapping back immediately. "It's not in the cards for us, baby. It's not safe."

Steve leans in to the touch with everything he has.

#harringrove #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #prom #do it for the vintage gays #islands in the stream

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXCIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: ONLY TEN CHAPTERS LEFT HOW WE FEELING -Danny

Words: 3,466

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Fair’ -By The Amazing Devil

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Cup.

Harry approached her the evening before their Gringotts heist, he sat next to her and placed an envelope on her lap.

"What's this?" She asked.

"It's... it's kind of like a will."

"Yours?"

Harry looked down at it and nodded shortly, rubbing the side of his face. "Yeah."

Her fingers brushed against the paper. "What do you want me to do with it?"

"I want to hear what you think about it."

Mel knew it was a waste of time to act like he was exaggerating, she nodded and pushed the folded piece of parchment towards him.

"I'm listening."

Harry looked at his writing and read it quickly.

"I want to leave what's inside my Gringotts vault to Teddy, I feel like that's the right thing to do."

"Okay."

"My broom and all the stuff you think it could be of use for him..." He skimmed through the paper and nodded. "The Marauders map and my cloak— that's for Reg and Teddy, you can decide who gets what."

"Alright," She hesitated for a moment, then asked, "what do I do with the stone?"

Harry looked up at her. "I don't know. Keep it if you want... or you can throw it away..."

"You don't want me to use it to talk to you?" She asked with a gloomy smile.

"I—I don't... no," He decided.

"My dad said you'd tell me that," Mel chuckled. "It's weird how well he knew you... like they can truly watch us from above or wherever they are..."

"Right," Harry folded the paper, he stared at it for a moment. "I hope you don't mind that I didn't leave anything for you."

"Glasses, I won't be missing any of your stuff," She sighed. "Just you."

He observed her weirdly. "Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Tell me."

"Never marry?" Harry spoke in a weak voice. "I would die happy if I know you won't ever have another partner."

She laughed. "I could become a nun?"

"You would have to marry God," He made a face. "No, I was thinking... you could live like your Grandad? You could work at his bar and be bitter and miserable forever."

"Is that your final wish?"

"Yes."

"Alright," She pretended to think about it. "I think it'll be easy to achieve. There's no one on earth who would put up with my loony self the way you do."

Harry let out a teary laugh, he grew utterly quiet, then added in a whisper:

"You know," He propped his head on one hand, he looked tired. "Sometimes I really believe you'll never want anyone else... but that's stupid. Mel Dumbledore isn't destined for that kind of life. She's beautiful, smart, and I think she deserves a good ending."

"Mel is done guessing her fate, if she's honest," The girl replied, rubbing her forehead. "You know, I think we're being remarkably mature, you and I. Writing wills, leaving our plan safely hidden under Dobby's watchful eye..."

"I think so too."

"But we're just pretending, aren't we?" She mimicked his pose on the couch, resting her chin on one hand and maintaining eye contact. "Because— And pardon my language— I'm really fucking pissed about it."

"I don't understand," She insisted. "It was supposed to be worth it in the end, no matter what... that's how it always is!"

Harry let out a breathy chuckle.  "Yeah, me too."

"It isn't fair," Her throat started to tighten in a painful way. "We've been together since babies. We were each other's first friend, first kiss, first—"

"Shag," He interrupted teasingly, Mel hit his arm gently.

"It was bound to change at some point..."

"It changed too soon," She sulked. "I hate to think that we won't get to grow old together..."

"Well then stop thinking about it, Dumby," Harry reached out to seize her hand. "Listen, it feels awful now, but you'll move on just like your mum did. You'll meet someone who'll make you happy and you'll have a kid that you'll insist on naming after me, something your partner is strongly against, but you've never lost an argument in your life—"

"The kid will be so much like you it's scary," She continued. "My spouse will think I used some kind of dark magic—"

"Turns out you had nothing to do with it, I just decided to come back as your son."

"That's a very disturbing idea."

"I have a brilliant sense of humour, thank you."

They shared a tired smile, Mel held his hand tenderly.

"I'll try to move on," She started. "But I keep thinking about the time I dated Erick, no matter what I couldn't feel like myself... then you came back into the picture and suddenly I was home, I was whole. Perhaps you could leave that for me? Write it down in your will: Mel Dumbledore gets to keep that thing —whatever it is— that makes her feel like herself when she's with me."

"I could," He put his free hand on top of theirs, Mel's looked small in between his palms, she tried to memorize the image. 

Her voice came out as a frail whisper. "...I don't want it, Harry. Not if it comes without you."

The next morning Hermione and Mel dressed in silence. Dobby, who had insisted on staying for as long as they'd planned to, served them breakfast with a cheerful attitude. It reminded her of Kreacher, who reminded her of Sirius, who reminded her of every single person she was doing this for. 

Harry had found a cause to die for when he realized Regulus was still alive and Teddy had been born; Mel had found a reason to keep on living.

"She tasted disgusting, worse than Gurdyroots!" Hermione complained, pushing the dark locks out of her face grumpily. "Okay, Ron, come here so I can do you...."

"Right, but remember, I don't like the beard too long..."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, this isn't about looking handsome!" 

"It's not that, it gets in the way! But I liked my nose a bit shorter, try and do it the way you did last time, please..."

"It's so weird being this tall," Mel examined her body, she'd managed to get a bit of Erick's hair through the mail —it took a lot of convincing— but in the end, he'd agreed to stay home that day, if things got out of control at least that way he'd be able to run for it and hide somewhere else with her family.

She couldn't push this strange feeling at the back of her mind, that this wasn't going to end the way they wanted to.

"There, how does he look, guys?"

"Well, he's not my type, but he'll do," Harry responded. "Shall we go, then?"

"Am I your type?" Mel inquired in Erick's silky voice. 

Harry examined her, it'd been ages since he'd had to look up at her.

"It's really weird seeing my girlfriend's ex flirting with me, you know?"

"That's not an answer."

"Move along, Prince," He groaned, pushing her forward. 

So far their entrance had been discrete enough, if they didn't count the man Ron had to leave unconscious so he wouldn't hurt Hermione, and the Death Eater that had just approached them to talk.

"And what do you want?" Hermione spat.

Mel cleared her throat, taken by surprise at how deep it sounded coming from Erick's body. She shook her head discretely to let Hermione know he was Bella's acquaintance.

"I merely sought to greet you," replied the man, "but if my presence is not welcome..."

"No, no, not at all, Travers," Hermione replied right away. "How are you?"

"Well, I confess I am surprised to see you out and about, Bellatrix."

"Really? Why?"

"Well, I heard that the Inhabitants of Malfoy Manor were confined to the house, after the... ah... escape."

"The Dark Lord forgives those who have served him most faithfully in the past," Hermione responded without skipping a beat. "Perhaps your credit is not as good with him as mine is, Travers."

The man's gaze landed on the man Ron had attacked moments before.

"How did it offend you?"

"It does not matter, it will not do so again," Hermione said in contempt.

"Some of these wandless can be troublesome," Travers nodded. "While they do nothing but beg I have no objection, but one of them actually asked me to plead her case in the Ministry last week. 'I'm a witch, sir, I'm a witch, let me prove it to you!' As if I was going to give her my wand! You should know, Mr Flint, I heard your group has been one of the most prolific at finding blood traitors!"

Mel pushed back her shoulders the way Erick used to do whenever he got compliments, she nodded once, a discrete yet charming smile adorning her -his- face.

"Nothing I can't handle, really," She replied smoothly. "Some of them lack more than just powers—They could be half-trolls for all I know."

The man laughed at his reply, then once more he fixed his attention on Hermione.

"If I can ask, whose wand are you using at the moment, Bellatrix? I heard that your own was—"

"I have my wand here. I don't know what rumors you have been listening to, Travers, but you seem sadly misinformed."

Travers blinked, he looked slightly tense about the way he was being treated, but he continued the conversation anyway.

"Who is your friend? I do not recognize him."

"This is Dragomir Despard," Hermione pointed at Ron vaguely. "He speaks very little English, but he is in sympathy with the Dark Lord's aims. He has travelled here from Transylvania to see our new regime, Mr Flint has been giving him the tour."

"Indeed? How do you do, Dragomir?"

"'Ow you?" Ron said thickly, he offered a hand that Travers shook without much enthusiasm.

"So what brings you and your—ah—companions to Diagon Alley this early?"

"I need to visit Gringotts."

"Alas, I also! Gold, filthy gold! We cannot live without it, yet I confess I deplore the necessity of consorting with our long-fingered friends. Shall we?"

Mel had her hand tightly closed around her wand just in case, they all entered the bank, she realized that her staring problem was nothing to worry about while pretending to be Erick, he'd always had the same bad habit as her.

The place was guarded by two wizards holding what looked like golden canes.

"Ah, Probity Probes," Travers mentioned dramatically, "so crude—but so effective!"

Mel waited until the man walked into the building first, then she felt Harry's spells moving past her and she signalled the others to move along. The group walked in confidently.

"One moment, madam..."

"But you've just done that!" Hermione snapped.

The man looked down at his hands, his partner nodded vaguely.

"Yeah, you've just checked them, Marius."

"Madam Lestrange!" A goblin exclaimed as soon as he saw them. "Dear me! How—how may I help you today?"

"I wish to enter my vault."

"You have... identification?" The goblin asked hesitantly.

"Identification? I–I have never been asked for identification before!"

"Your wand will do, madam."

Mel's grip was uncomfortably tight on her wand, but she did her best to not look guilty. She saw the briefest change in the Goblin's expression while he examined Bellatrix's wand and a vague smile she recognized as a side effect of the Imperio curse.

"Ah, you have had a new wand made, Madam Lestrange!"

"What? No, no, that's mine—"

"Madam Lestrange," Mel cleared her throat again, shaking her head slightly.

"A new wand?" Travers got closer. "But how could you have done, which wandmaker did you use?"

It happened with Travers once more: his face changed abruptly into an expression of bliss.

"Oh yes, I see... yes, very handsome. Is it working well? I always think wands require a little breaking in, don't you?"

"I reckon it's the wizard who needs a little of rough handling," Mel commented casually.

None of them seemed confused by her comment, the goblin clapped once and a younger worker approached.

"I shall need the Clankers... Good, good! So, if you will follow me, Madam Lestrange, I shall take you to your vault."

"Wait—Bogrod!" A third goblin rushed over to them. "We have instructions! Forgive me, Madam, but there have been special orders regarding the vault of Lestrange—"

"I am aware of the instructions! Madam Lestrange wishes to visit her vault... Very old family... old clients... This way, please..."

Once safe behind the thick walls, Harry pulled off the invisibility cloak.

"We're in trouble; they suspect."

"We can tell," Mel looked at Harry moodily. "I shouldn't have taunted Bellatrix, surely she got all paranoid about us trying to steal the cup... well, she wasn't wrong, was she?"

"Well, we're here now so we can't stop—They're Imperiused," He signalled vaguely at the Goblin and the Death Eater standing behind them. "I don't think I did it strongly enough, I don't know..."

"I can bolster them if we need to," She raised a brow. "Can't be that hard... after all, the only thing we need is to—"

"Mean them, yeah," Harry nodded. "I remember."

"What do we do?" Ron asked worryingly. "Shall we get out now, while we can?"

"If we can," Hermione corrected.

"Hey, leave the sulky comments to me," Mel intervened. "I'm in the perfect body for them!"

"We've got this far, I say we go on," Harry reasoned.

"Good!" Griphook replied. "So, we need Bogrod to control the cart; I no longer have the authority. But there will not be room for the wizard."

Harry flicked his wand. "Imperio!"

"What are you making him do?"

"Hide."

They watched the man disappear through the nearest corridor, then they all hurriedly climbed the cart and started to descend.

Again, the journey was going well until it wasn't.

A large waterfall came into view and before they could stop the cart they went right through, they got flipped upside down and started to fall aimlessly, Mel grabbed a hold of her wand and with a short flick, she and Hermione managed to secure a safe landing for the whole group.

"C–Cushioning Charm," Hermione —looking like herself again— stammered. Ron hurried to help her to her feet, he was also beardless and back with his normal nose.

Mel looked down at her own hands and recognized them as her own, they went up to touch and examine her chest and hair.

"The Thief's Downfall!" Griphook spat. "It washes away all enchantment, all magical concealment! They know there are imposers in Gringotts, they have set off defenses against us!"

"Harry," Mel exclaimed. "Bogrod!"

"We need him," Griphook demanded, "we cannot enter the vault without a Gringott's goblin! And we need the clankers!"

"Imperio! " Harry yelled.

Ron hurried to pick up the back of clanking metal.

"Harry, I think I can hear people coming!" Hermione shivered. "Protego!"

"Good thinking," He nodded. "Lead the way, Griphook!"

"How are we going to get out again?" Ron gulped.

"Let's worry about that when we have to," Harry replied without stopping. "Griphook, how much farther?"

"Not far, Harry Potter, not far..."

"Bloody hell—that thing's huge!" Mel stopped in her tracks, stumbling over the large robes she was wearing.

"It is partially blind," Griphook explained, casually nodding towards the dragon, "but even more savage for that. However, we have the means to control it. It has learned what to expect when the Clankers come. Give them to me."

"This is cruelty," Mel started, but Ron was quick to interrupt.

"Can we worry about one thing at a time, please?"

"You know what to do," Griphook handed them the clankers. "It will expect pain when it hears the noise. It will retreat, and Bogrod must place his palm upon the door of the vault."

So they did what they were supposed to, Mel kept her eyes away from the creature, not wanting to see the pain they were inflicting on it.

"Make him press his hand to the door!"

Harry did as told.

"Search, fast!" The boy ordered.

As soon as they stepped inside the door closed, Mel tried not to panic about it while she searched around the vault.

"No matter, Bogrod will be able to release us!" Griphook brushed it aside. "Light your wands, can't you? And hurry, we have little time!"

"Lumos! "

"Harry, could this be—? Aargh!" Hermione jumped away from the shelf. "It burned me!"

"They have added Germino and Flagrante Curses! Everything you touch will burn and multiply, but the copies are worthless—and if you continue to handle the treasure, you will eventually be crushed to death by the weight of expanding gold!"

"Okay, don't touch anything!" Harry swallowed thickly, they were starting to feel a little trapped.

Ron kicked something else on accident, Mel swore out loud.

"Stand still, don't move!" Hermione grabbed a hold of her arm and stopped her movements.

"Just look around! Remember, the cup's small and gold, it's got a badger engraved on it, two handles..." Harry grunted.

"It's alright," Mel encouraged them. "Small steps... we got this."

The heat emanating from the things they had accidentally touched was unbearable, suddenly Harry gasped:

"It's there, it's up there!"

"And how the hell are we going to get up there without touching anything?" Ron complained.

"Accio Cup!" Hermione shouted.

"No use, no use!" Griphook hissed.

"Then what do we do?" said Harry, glaring at the goblin. "If you want the sword, Griphook, then you'll have to help us more than—wait! Can I touch stuff with the sword? Hermione, give it here!"

The girl obliged right away.

"If I can just poke the sword through a handle—but how am I going to get up there?"

"Group effort," Mel slowly moved towards him. "Stay still, Harry, we'll lift you."

The girls pointed their wands at him. 

"Levicorpus!"

She focused on guiding Harry's figure towards the cup, the sudden movement caused a pile of treasures to fall on them. She was burning alive, but she kept going.

"Impervius!" Hermione tried, but it was no use.

Mel gasped, the heat surrounding them was blurring her vision, suddenly she heard Harry scream "Liberatocorpus!" and a loud crashing sound afterwards.

"Get it!" The boy urged. "Where's the sword? It had the cup on it!"

"There!"

It happened fast, but Harry grabbed a hold of the cup, and she would've felt the heat through the lifeline hadn't been because her own hand was already buried under thousands of other boiling objects. The vault opened and they fell towards the entrance covered in fake gold, Griphook quickly recovered and somehow managed to join the crowd of Goblins standing in front of them.

"Thieves! Thieves! Help! Thieves!"

Mel felt slightly relieved about facing an angry crowd, she could handle that way better than magical evil objects.

"Stupefy!" Harry exclaimed.

Thousands of colourful lighting surrounded them as they made their way out, wizards were amongst the goblins as well, she didn't want to hurt innocents, but she really couldn't see a different way to escape.

"Relashio!"

Harry had pointed to the chains keeping the dragon hostage. She looked at him in confusion, but considering their current situation, she wasn't going to decline his offer.

"How good are you at climbing, Mellow?" He yelled.

"Good enough!" She responded, already running towards the creature.

"This way!" Harry shouted at their friends.

"Harry—Harry—what are you doing?"

"Get up, climb up, come on—"

They all messily pulled each other upwards on the creature's back.

"C'mon, pretty!" Mel threw a few sparks at its snout. "Let's go!"

The creature pushed itself upwards and climbed up with difficulty.

"We'll never get out, it's too big—!" Hermione squealed the second the dragon threw fire at the tunnel, making it wider in half a second.

It scratched and melted everything in its way, Mel pointed her wand forward.

"Are you going to wait for it to do all the work, or do you want to get out of here today?"

"Defodio!" Hermione shouted.

The boys followed their lead, soon enough the four of them were helping the dragon destroy the ceiling. Mel used all of her power, she focused really hard on getting things done, however, Ron's voice interrupted her concentration for a moment.

"You should inform Erick about this!" He panted. "He won't be able to go back to work after this!"

"He's going to be so pissed about it!" Mel groaned. "He warned me the plan wouldn't work!"

"He always says that!"

"And he's never been wrong!"

With a loud blast, they finally made it into the bank's marble entrance.

All the people inside ran for it, the dragon paid no mind to this, it approached the sunlight with immense pleasure and before any of them could jump out of its back, the creature took one leap of faith, and flew into the morning.

Next Chapter —>

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#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic