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thekidultlife · 4 years

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Aww yall are the sweetest! Missed u too! 🥺💖 Can u guys do leanne's illicit affairs and hyeri's jihoon steampunk au for the wip game if you haven't already? (im a sucker for mafia aus they're so 🥵🌶) Don't forget to stay hydrated and smile today 👁👄👁 Thanksies! 🤸‍♀️

HELLOOOO, ANON! Thank you so much for asking for this!!! "Illicit Affairs" will probably come out in November or December (no promises--the number of WIPs I have is astronomical, I kid you not, and I don't know how to get to them all in time LMAO), but this is a snippet of what you will see in this fic! Also, please look forward to "Run, Run, Baby" and "Protect" (snippets of Hoshi's arc) as well, because they are parts of one big Mafia AU using different members' arcs and perspective. So, yeah, "Illicit Affairs" and "Run, Run, Baby" are parts of a Mafia AU! 😊

“We are currently searching for the gunman and one other confirmed accomplice who pretended to be the wedding officiator. As of now, however, we have no solid leads, no clues at all—we…we are still trying to get our bearings and are as of this moment figuring out a way to make sense of this attack. We are also confirming that we are taking into consideration the possibility that this might have been an inside job,” Chief of Police Kang Sejung states during the press conference held earlier this afternoon. “It is one of the most plausible theories that we have right now as to how the gunman and his accomplice could have entered and left this place without a trace.”

When asked about whether this case might have ties to the infamous Brotherhood, of which Congressman Shin’s family has long been suspected of having ties to, Chief Kang tersely responded, “The City has been safe from such violence for years now. There is no more Brotherhood. There is no more [mob-related] violence. Our City has never been safer than in our times today. This is an isolated case with possible designs of an inside job. And as we thoroughly investigate this tragedy, I am confident that the leads and results will show as such. That is all. Thank you."

More in-depth reports about this case will follow as details become clearer.

⧪

As the Officer pushed away the very thin case file, he closed his eyes and leaned back on his chair.

Many things have happened tonight. There were too many questions and too many uncertain answers. But there was only one thing on his mind that rang true.

"Fuck you, Kang Sejung," he growled underneath his breath as images of bodies mangled by fire and bullets flashed across his mind. "Fuck you and your lies. The Brotherhood is very much alive, and I say fuck you once more for trying to cover that up." He slammed his fist onto his desk. Pictures of the cathedral which had burned to the ground flew around him.

Breathing heavily, he got up from his seat and walked around the empty room of the Heinous Crimes Division. Computer screens lit up occasionally with the insignia of the City Police Department.

He was alone.

He was the only one who was truly searching for answers.

But he should have known that he would not find it within the databases of this City.

Something darker and deeper was at work the moment that gunman burned the cathedral to the ground. Perhaps even before that.

But there was one thing the Officer was sure of: the Brotherhood has not disbanded. And this atrocity was the very proof that they were still, very much alive.

I hope you liked it!!! 😊😊😊

HYERI’S WIP

AS IT TURNS OUT, I HAVE TWO STEAMPUNK AUS FOR JIHOON ASJHDDJFHAD I NEVER REALIZED IT;;; LIKE I TOTALLY FORGOT I WROTE THE SECOND ONE BUT GOOD LORD IM LIKING IT;; PROBABLY SOMETHING I’D LIKE TO DO PRETTY SOON!! so i guess i’ll just put two here skksksks

Steampunk AU 1:

“Knyazhna.” He hissed through teeth, exasperated that you never did try to be as malleable as other girls out there; and you could very well imagine the look of contained rage on his face. “I’m trying to protect you. And please, watch your language.”

“Don’t play mom with me Jihoon. I hear you cuss day in and day out,” you arched a brow, even though he can’t see you. “Besides, I bet you just want to chase crooks around too. Controlling dolls can be as boring as hell.”

Too annoyed to respond, Jihoon cut off the communication. He knew you were stubborn and if it were a normal day, he wouldn’t have any problem with a rebuttal, yet he was unwilling to bicker with his boss especially on an important run. Instead, Jihoon leaned against his seat and ran fingers through his bleached hair. The darkness of the room made his Cyrillic circle enchantment, with its cerulean glow illuminating his cheeks, obvious to the eyes.

He swept his finger in a deft curve along the outer ring; arranging the dolls to form a three-line barricade on your four sides in real time. It was simple information manipulation, but you couldn’t help but widen your eyes at what he did. The lines of dolls made you look like you’re the one needing protection from the criminal you were currently chasing after.

“Jihoon!”

You groaned, teeth gritting because of his passive-aggressive retaliation, unable to do anything but go with it. It was more than entertaining to push his buttons, knowing that he’d rather have you behave like a sweet little girl, which you aren’t; thus creating ripples of havoc in his head. However, you knew more than to childishly fight back; it was important that you catch this guy and you needed your right-hand man for it to be possible. Jihoon can kiss my toes later.

FREAKIN LOVE THIS ^^^^^^^ (Knyazhna i think is ‘princess’ in Russian;; so it’s more like a title than YN’s actual name!)

Steampunk AU 2:

“You don’t look so good.” He sighed.

A voice—slightly annoyed, but mildly worried—reached your ears as you sought where it had come from. Training your head, you saw a figure beside you as he observed your countenance for any sign of major discomfort.

You gazed at him with dazed eyes, and noticed that he had soft platinum blond hair, chocolate brown orbs for eyes and plump pink lips, often in an adorable pout. He had a look of concentration, wrecking his brain for any ideas on how to take care of someone who seemed so weak.

It might’ve worked, you guessed so, as he raised his hand to feel your forehead for any heat way above the usual. You would’ve jerked aback only if you weren’t so uncalibrated and frail.

He hummed. “You don’t seem to have a fever…I guess all you could do now is rest.”

The young man sighed once more and stood up, the sleeves of his white button up shirt falling past his arms, seemingly too big for him. Yet he doesn’t seem to mind, and carried the pail of your vomit somewhere. You watched him go; his back the final image you saw when your eyes fell like heavy curtains.

#wips #svt wips #svt imagines #svt au #ask leanne and hyeri!!!#WE ARE SO EXCITED FOR THESE STORIES TO COME OUT!!! 💗

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9uk · 6 years

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Let Me Stay Close To You : part 1

⌲ summary : you were finally free from the worst nightmare of your life in high school. the doors of college welcomed you with open arms, you were set on living your best life in here, away from the toxicity back at home. that shimmer of hope in restoring your life, was somehow effortlessly crushed by a tap on your shoulder. “Hey Y/N, why don’t you say we catch up for a moment?”

⌲ pairing : bully!jungkook x reader

⌲ word count : 4.9k

⌲ genre : a whole lot of fluff maybe, refreshing jungkook, oc & friends ^-^

⌲ warnings : mentions of being a victim of bully, light grinding, suggestive terms

⌲ a/n : here it is! i’m so sorry if it’s bad :”

prologue > one > part two

You see, the reason why Jungkook constantly picks on you is—

Firstly. Although you were this sweet girl filled with compassion who treated everyone equally and nicely, you were nonetheless ostracised in school. Due to the fact that you covered up who your father was to protect yourself, and your family.

“Wait Y/N, what does your father do?” One of your classmates had questioned, making sure she was pulling on and cutting off the right strings.

Confirming, that it would be okay to ignore you.

“My father had died in an car accident a few years back.” Her eyes widened, in what you assumed as sympathy. “I only have my mom, who works at the coffee shop just around the corner of the street.” At that, her sympathy washes away and is replaced quickly by what you deemed as disassociation. All you receive is an ‘O’ shape formed on her mouth, before she slithers away to join her group of friends who carried Chanel bags and wore Gucci shoes to school.

Everybody then knew you as the girl who is single-parented by a humble mother who works at a café down the street. There was this hierarchy in school, and there was almost no reason to get close to somebody who was not worth of connections and had no business strings to pull. To put it simply, your ass was not wealthy enough to suck up to.

And the perfect person to bully. (Without having their family company’s stock rate to drop.)

You try to pass off as indifferent as ever, like this was your life and everything to you is nothing more than a normality.

But it isn’t.

It’s sort of amusing how you had to travel to such extremities in order to make sure your journey in high school would be a smooth-sailing and unbothered one.

You had rather those shallow-minded, materialistic people to keep an appropriate distance away from the girl in rags. Therefore, you lied.

“Oh there’s the girl whose father passed on from an accident.” Compared to, “Isn’t that the girl whose father committed embezzlement?” It’s somehow better in some way or another to lie about your father’s death than to tell the school the ugly truth.The former would cause people to avoid you, a fatherless child, while the latter would cause people to despise you, a criminal’s daughter. Sympathy was better than contempt, after all.

It’s been almost eight months since that—you could quite literally say, mind-blowing incident.

It was the time of the year where the first years would start enrolling into the colleges that have sent them an acceptance letter. It was the time, for a fresh clean start.

For everybody. Especially you.

You got into a college a few hours drive far away from the hometown. You call it the hometown because that place had turned foul with the odour of filthy money, the values of the society you were living in back there unreservedly stinks of corruption and discrimination towards the less well-off and the weak—it wasn’t even yours to begin with.

No, you didn’t want to acknowledge a place like that as your home.

You stuck out like a total sore thumb in that city.

Surely the town had a beautiful cityscape, splattered with greyscale high-rised office buildings with doses of parks and bridges.

It looked picturesque.

Fact is, it only looked picturesque.

What lies behind the millionaire central business district was the cruelsome inevitable hierarchy and a deadly game of chess.

Kill, or be killed.

You left for a peace of the mind, to put behind all the bad memories, nightmare of a terrible highschool life and the irreversible tragic situation your family was in. Your father was still an employee in that company, with no other choice but to work like a bull as a form of redemption to his wrongdoings.

Meanwhile, your mother diligently worked as a barista and kept her profile low-key. She couldn’t enjoy her usual high-tea sessions with her housewife friends anymore, she couldn’t even lift her head when she stepped out of the house anymore. Tragic, indeed.

College was like a fresh breather.

Like a clean and proper start to everything, considering no one from highschool was likely to be here with you. It was a chance to meet new, kinder people who did not steal your yoghurt or vandalise your belongings or maybe even split your forehead apart like a certain someone—and to finally live a life of someone normal.

It was like a new shot at life. At least that was what you thought.

Carrying all your belongings from your old apartment, you hear noises coming from your dormitory.

“Ah! What do I do? How am I going to cook all these ramen I bought?! Why am I so stu-oh my god!” Your roomie looks at you by the door, watching her go into a fit of frenzy.

“You scared me! Why are you standing there like that?” She starts bursting into laughter.

And you naturally let out a light chuckle, too.

“I have a kettle, and it’s for sharing.” You lift up the pink sleek kettle you have in hand after overhearing her not-so-quiet state of despair. Her eyes twinkle with a gleam of hope, like her entire sanity just got saved.

By a pink floral-printed, kettle.

“Thank you! You’re the best! I can already tell we’re going to get along just fine!” She beams in excitement and pulls you into a tight hug while you try to prevent all of your stuff from dropping onto the ground.

Oh, so much for a kettle.

“I’m Sooyoung, nice to meet you…?” She chirps with her bright red lipstick and pearly white teeth—you already love her so much, your only friend in such a long time.

“U-Uh, it’s Y/N.” You sheepishly grin, averting her sparkly eyes.

So this is what the effect being deprived of any proper contact with humans felt like. You could feel chemistry building rapidly between the both of you, or maybe it was solely because you haven’t had a true friend in ages.

Sooyoung was definitely outspoken and extroverted, simple-minded and direct with her feelings—which in contrary to you, who was leaning towards the more reserved and introverted side. Hanging out with Sooyoung made you feel like you had some self-worth, her strong initiative and inclusion towards you made you feel like you were needed as a friend, for once in so long.

Regardless of your financial status.

And no longer than a couple of days, the both of you had grown so close through the binge-watching of netflix and love for Toki’s fried chicken. The two of you hopped around campus, getting exploited to the publicity of various clubs and sport teams and adjusting in through the freshmen orientation you wished had never ended. Because the end of orientations meant the start of classes—which you weren’t such a sucker for anymore, knowing how much fun you could have to hang out with legitimate friends.

It felt different, but it felt nice.

To be able to speak without being afraid, to be able to tease and hug one another so casually without any obstructions of statuses. It felt nice to be able to be yourself, the Y/N who played tag, built sandcastles and rambled about the the number of dogs you were going to own in the future under the night stars, with your bestfriend. It felt nice to be able to open up your soul.

And that is why suddenly, you were a fan of raising the roof. You became one of those girls in their little squads back in high school who constantly had silly grins plastered onto their faces, squealing over celebrity crushes and skipping off to movie dates hand-in-hand with their girlfriends. And just for once, you felt like you were normal. You fitted in easily, with the help of Sooyoung, became just like everyone else. She introduced you to two of her other friends, Wendy and Seulgi, who were just as amazing as she was.

“Come on, let’s go Y/N.” Your mouth open agape as you looked at her, dumbfounded. What exactly were you supposed to wear to a friends outing? It was the first time you were actually going to meet up with her friends.

“I-I have nothing to wear.” You blurt out, and Sooyoung makes a sound of something in between a scoff and a laugh.

“Do you even need to wear anything? We’re only meeting Seul and Wen for coffee!” You embarassingly scratch the back of your head, feeling like you read too much into a coffee date.

“Here,” She steps foward and pulls out a top from your section of the wardrobe. “This should do.” Sooyoung shakes her head as you get dressed, thinking how much you’ve never went out before.

You put on a long sleeved floral top and jeans. You have never been yourself in highschool, you felt like you didn’t have the right to, dress all girly and pretty—it felt like something only the rich and pretty could do.

During the school break, you let your hair down, started wearing contact lenses, and even dyed your hair a light brown—you were almost unrecognisable. The thought that no one was going to laugh at you for dolling yourself up, had you shrieking in excitement as you happily made your way to the mall.

So here you were, sitting at the café nearby the university, having a session of gossip with your own little squad.

Having something or someone you love is honestly the greatest vulnerability. Once you have a taste of something, you wouldn’t want to let that go—no, not just yet. Once something is under your possesion, and the worst thing that can happen is that you would grow so accustomed to it. If you told yourself 4 years ago that you would be sitting with a bunch of your closest friends, chattering happily and discussing about what you going to wear to the party later in the evening over lunch— you would probably laugh in utter disbelief, for that would only happen in your wildest dreams. And the wildest dream were you living in, sitting at the caféteria having a serious meeting about how your clique should wear a similar concept of clothes and stride into the frathouse like bad bitches.

Though, it seemed like Seulgi was the only one serious about this whole thing.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Wendy opts out and decides to go with her own full black style.

“Um okay, who’s with me?”

You could tell Seulgi was nervous, by how hard she is trying to come up with a mastermind plan with the four of you to at least leave an impression in the welcoming party. Her eyecandy, Taehyung was going to be there, she had to somehow step up her game, right? After drooling over him in Biology lectures for what seemed like weeks, she was finally going to gain a chance at some sort of interaction with the “love of her life”—as she proclaims—at this very major and important party of entering the college life.

There was a foam of unsettling silence until Sooyoung decides to disrupt it. All of you wanted nothing more but to drink away your feelings of sorrow for the term that was about to commence.

“Okay fine, I will do it with you.” Sooyoung volunteers, seeing as to no one was particularly interested.

“I guess I will join too then..” You raised, and Seulgi’s pout transforms into a smile at once. She proceeds to tug on Wendy’s arm, who was boredly using her phone while waiting for Seulgi to be over that idea. But as she looks up to three pairs of eyes expectantly waiting for her reply, she sighs.

“I can’t believe the two of you agreed to it. Disappointed is an understatement.” With a roll of her eyes, the four of you laughed heartedly in satisfaction and carried on with the conversation about boys, boys and boys.

After a long bonding session, which consisted of them being shocked as to how you’ve never dated before, which they found impossible—because they thought you were really gorgeous and lovely. As the girls scanned your features upon Wendy’s compliment, you knew they noticed the scar at your left temple—by how their eyes linger there for a moment before quickly diverting their gaze to the rest of your face as an act of oblivion. They chose to not question something you didn’t mention out of your own will.

Who would have guessed you were a victim of bullying?

Suddenly, your chair screeched loudly “Oh crap, I’ve got to go submit some papers at the office!” You weren’t done with registering your details with the university, and had a lot of troublesome loose strings to tie up for your father wanted to you to receive the allowance he gave to you every month from the school. The office was closing barely in a few minutes, and you had to check it off your to-do-list by today.

“Sorry girls, I have to rush off now,” You felt bad for leaving your friends like in the middle of an enticing horror story Seulgi was telling, but nonetheless you snatched your belongings and made your way out of the café, flustered.

“See you at the dorm at 6!” Sooyoung yells out to you and you reply her with a sloppish wave. The rustic copper bells at the door twinkles violently as it busts open, and you’re flying off to campus.

The smell of succulent wild berries and soft white violets.

He can almost recognise that smell from anywhere. Jungkook looks up from the game on his mobile device. His characters were groaning loudly in pain in his eardrums, losing the match but he squints in the distance, putting all the broken misplaced pieces of nostalgia together once again. Was that who he thought it was? Your face lingered faintly at the back of his head but he shook his head and pushed the suspicion away.He whips around and tilts his head from the dull pain of the whiplash. The clicking of her leather boot heels become amplified as his vision focused solely on her back—the way her soft fawn locks sway from side to side with every step she took, the way her cute pink top flowed in the wind of spring, this aura of confidence she had radiating around her entire form, the scent she left behind was persistent in his nose, and he hates to admit but it further confirms his suspicions.

But no, it couldn’t be.

It couldn’t be at all.

He must be hallucinating, but she was on his mind the whole day, the sight of her slowly disappearing into the university’s building from the open walkway etched on his very mind. Something about that girl hit the sense of familiarity in him—with a pinch of longing and a sense of regret.

“Can’t wait to see Taehyung,” Seulgi’s feet tap on the ground in anticipation mixed with nervousness. She must have known she was not the only one fawning over Taehyung’s perfectly sculpted features.

“Can’t wait to get wasted.” Wendy softly follows after.

Sooyoung smacks Wendy, “And yours truly would have to drag your asses back?” She sulks at the fact that she had to control her liqour and not go all out tonight—for she was all of yours’ ride back.

“Did you happen to forget that you’re the only one who’s got a driver’s license?” Wendy reminds, and Sooyoung is left with a defeated sigh, wishing she hadn’t learnt to drive before any of you all did.

The house was already slightly bouncing from the booming pop music inside, the windows doing a bad job at encasing the sound waves. The party has not even begun, but the whole house was filled with guests—freshmen, mostly—and it felt like half of the college’s students were present here. You swear you heard a few whistles as the four of you walked through the door, entering one by one, completely fazed by the entire atmospehere of the party. You sucked in a deep breath, calming your nerves and preventing yourself from developing a panic attack from how loud and crowded this place.

You felt strange, your seventh sense pricking at your thoughts, as if a pair of eyes were watching you intensely. You weren’t used to being with large amounts of people, and to be frank, you already felt suffocated whenever you were in class. The comfort of being alone and having space was not appreciated enough. Especially in crazy parties like this.

A few moments later, while everyone seem to find home at this stranger’s house, you were still stiff and a little uncomfortable. Wendy went to join in a game of beer pong—you can hear her hollers of victory every once in a while. And Seulgi made her way to find her dreamboy, gathering courage to make her moves on him. Sooyoung decided to head to the kitchen to grab drinks, pulling you along, and chugged the unruly liquid in the red cups down too easily. Sooyoung poured you a shot of vodka while she had a cup of tequila in hand, “Y/N, drink this to loosen up.” She says assuringly and you grab suspicious red cup from her hands, looking at it with worry and hesistation. You weren’t one to drink alcohol, you never have and never wanted to. But you guessed it was time to try.

Hands shaky, you immediately brought the drink to your lips, brows furrowing tightly as you down every drop of the vodka. “Wait Y/N, I should pour some soda water to water it down for you.”Sooyoung spins the cap close on the bottle of vodka as she looks around for the soda water.

Cheeks full of hard liquor, both of your eyes widened when she turned around, with the red cup empty in your hand. You swallowed, and it burned your throat. Grimacing from the taste left on your tongue, you looked at her in confusion. “Was I not supposed to just-“

“Oh my goodness, Y/N!” Sooyoung’s face lit up in surprise. “I didn’t know you can hold your liquor that well! I should just..” She drinks straight from the bottle, like a baby sucking on a milk bottle, the hard stuff entering her system.

“Ah, this just feels too good!” She screamed in pure intoxicated happiness and grabbed your arm, heading to the dance floor. “Let’s dance.”

A light buzz clouded your mind from the three-quarter full cup of vodka as you smiled sheepishly, making your way to the dance floor. Sooyoung jumped up and down, swinging to the music and letting her body flow to the rhythm. Her enthusiasm infected you, causing you to slightly follow and move accordingly to her actions and the deafening music. The buzz gradually grew bigger, taking over your whole body, your limbs were dancing on their own as you slowly flutter your eyes shut to the feeling. You were smiling too much—almost unnecessarily as you blended right into the dancing crowd, Sooyoung long drifted away from you, probably having fun with somebody else who matched her high level of energy.

You were certain that you were strongly inebriated, for your cheeks were burning red, and you were dancing.

Dancing.

If the Jeon demon was here, he would have probably took a video of you and laughed at your horrendous movements. But you were having the time of your life, enjoying yourself in this party, dancing.

Fuck, why were you even thinking about him? You felt so free of worries, without any sort of burden‚ like a caged bird set free—you were floating with numerous bodies, to the song you always hear on the radio, with no judgemental eyes or hushed murmurs about the way you were acting.

Your confidence was always weak, but for today, it got stronger—at least just for a moment. Everything felt perfect—even though you were alone, but you knew that you had three friends by your side and that was more than enough. You didn’t want this moment to end.

“Having fun?” A voice echoed in your ear. Although you felt like you were on fire, you manage to feel the hands that creeped up onto your hips, leaving you on slightly on edge and caution. The touch burned through the fabric of the short dress you were wearing, if it was even possible, and you tried turning around. But you failed as the strong grip held you in place, no one would notice you were struggling as everyone on the dance floor just looked like a bunch of twirling limbs. Before you could turn your head to catch a glimpse of the person who was laying their hands on you, he snuck closer to press against your back and rested his chin onto your shoulder. The side of his face so close to yours, you couldn’t even tilt your head around to see his face. It was like he didn’t want you to see his face, for all you know, self-consciousness.

It wasn’t like you minded too much about people’s faces, if anything, you knew better than anyone else than to judge a book by it’s cover. Cover, meaning status, family background, level of affluence—let alone their damn physical appearance.

“You look amazing tonight,” His voice trickles into your ears like candy, sending shivers down your spine with a single compliment. But one thing for sure, was that he smelled so good, and it made you want to bury your face into his chest and let him be the only thing you were going to smell for life.

The faceless stranger didn’t grind onto your ass or sneak his hands further up to your breasts, but the both of you comfortably stayed like that, swaying gently to the music. You silently chided yourself for letting someone touch you like that without knowing his name, or seeing his face—but you enjoyed the way you were being held a little too much than you’d like to admit.

Was this some kind of undiscovered trait of lust you had surging throughout your body?

There was only one way to find out.

You tilted your head back and pushed yourself against him, feeling his crotch press against the crack between the cheeks of your ass.He lets out a deep chuckle, one you assumed was filled with want and amusement from your gnawing desperation to feel him—without knowing anything about this stranger.

Maybe you were too drunk, mind flooding with lustful thoughts and core aching a little from his strong grasp on your hips. But as he interlocks his fingers with yours and moves towards the stairs to bring you upstairs and satisfy your needs that you clearly displayed a few seconds ago, you halted in your tracks. “Waiiit,” You tug him back, speech slurring. And he refuses to turn back to face you, as though he is afraid that you would turn him down once you see his face.

At the same time, he’s listening.

He’s curious as to what you have to say to him.

With his back still stubbornly facing you, you pull him closer and unlock your fingers, spinning him around.

“What’s your name?” You reach out to grab his hand once again, for reassurance. He looks at the floor, scared and nervous to meet your eyes for the very first time. The stranger was elegant and charming—you could sense it clearly from the aura he was radiating around you.

But it was also clear as day that he lacked confidence.

“I’m.. Namjoon, s-sorry,” You clutch his hand tighter to prevent him from leaving abruptly.

You genuinely enjoyed dancing with him, and you feel like he was someone you would want to get to know better.

“Namjoon, look at me. Let me see you properly?” The words came out more like a question, nonetheless he raises his head carefully, as if to give you time you prepare for how ugly he looked.

You know it all, too well.

It wasn’t even a few milliseconds after you looked at his face before—“Namjoon, you look amazing too.” You returned the compliment, not for the sake of boosting his self-confidence or to return the praise—but he really, looked amazing. His brown hair is parted and combed back messily, his monolids and plump lips rested perfectly on his face. You couldn’t really understand why he was self-conscious about his looks, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. A smile flashes onto his face upon your words and he covers his mouth with his hand shyly. God, he had dimples too. This man was downright gorgeous—it was a pity he couldn’t see that for himself.

“I mean it, you look handsome.” You smile back at him, adoration for this man escalating in you as he chuckles.

“Thank you, uh..” Namjoon’s eyes widened as to how he had missed your name. “I’m Y/N.” You finish for him and he shakes his head at how rude he must have seemed without asking for your name. He panics.

“Sorry I just-” “It’s okay Namjoon.” You giggle, and he leans foward to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Your cheeks grow red at the sudden intimacy, being reminded of where the both of you had left off.

“Shall we go upstairs?” He suggests politely—though, what may happen between the two of you, weren’t so much going to be so.

“Sure-”

“Hey Y/N, why don’t you say we catch up for a moment?”

A tap on your shoulder brings your attention away from Namjoon, your hand dropping from his, hanging loosely by your side at the voice.

At his voice.

You would never forget the voice who brought the insults and mean remarks into your ears, slowly feathering down to your pile of insecurities.

You are certain, that you would never forget his voice.

You could feel your legs begin to tremble as your eyes meet with the devil’s, dark and fierce—piercing right through your soul. The devil, being none other than Jeon Jungkook.

The first thing you feel is denial.

You can’t help but let your jaw drop, lips parting in complete shock and dread. No,no,no, it can’t be. You repeat like a mantra in your heart, hoping it gets to your tipsy head. It just can’t be. This has to be some sort of sickening plot twist in a Korean drama series, right? You tried pinching hard at your thighs, wincing as the pain assures you that this in fact, wasn’t a dream. And Jungkook, the guy who filled your teen years with plain torture and unkept peace, was standing right infront of you.

The second thing you feel is fear.

You could feel your breath start to stutter, as you subconsciously take a step back from him with shaky legs. Namjoon, as expected, was gone by now. Probably having fled as he sees a far more dominating and confident look in Jungkook’s eyes. You were afraid. So afraid that this terrible man would come into your life and ruin everything for you. Sooyoung, Seulgi and Wendy would all probably leave you as this devil incarnate, would claim you to being his punching doll, once again. No one would want to stay close to a victim of bully. No matter how much sympathy they are able to gain, or how much external kindness they are able to receive—they still never have true friends to hang out with, share secrets between and to protect each other. Because who in the world would want to include losers in their fancy little squads?

Victims are only viewed as a burden, bringing down the entire group, being the plus one in everything—it’s hard to open up to people that easily, afraid of saying the wrong things or doing things that would make others upset.

It’s hard.

And you solemnly pray Jungkook wouldn’t make it hard again for you in your new life in college.

As these train of thoughts travel pass your mind, the trembling hand by your side was now grabbed by Jungkook, as he waltzed you through the sweaty crowd and out of the thumping house that made your head spin. He pulls your speechless form outside, the cool and needed fresh air kissing your skin. His fingers are still laced with yours, gently tight and the feeling too foreign for your administration to the vulnerable mind.

Jungkook looks at you with eyes that seem like concern and worry—something that was so unfamiliar to you and never encountered with before.

With his thumb drawing circles over the back of your hand soothingly, that was the last straw.

“Y/N…Are you okay?” Jungkook begins.

And the third thing you feel, is confusion.

2K notes · View notes

bandaids-not-groupies · 5 years

Text

Get to know me uncomfortably well - tagged by @livewiredroger ❤️ sorry this took so long to post!!

1. What is your middle name?

Janie

2. How old are you?

21, gonna be 22 in a couple months

3. When is your birthday?

December 4th! A day after Ozzy’s

4. What is your zodiac sign?

Sagittarius

5. What is your favourite colour?

Light purple and black

6. What’s your lucky number?

I don’t actually know

7. Do you have any pets?

No but I did have a dog!

8. Where are you from?

Chicago!

9. How tall are you?

5’0 lmao

10. What shoe size are you?

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

Too many to count lol

12. What was your last dream about?

I don’t remember 😅

13. What talents do you have?

None lol. I’m boring af

14. Are you psychic in any way?

Nope lol

15. Favourite song?

I’m a believer by the monkees (I’ve always loved that song)

16. Favourite movie?

The Godfather

17. Who would be your ideal partner?

Keanu Reeves. He has my heart and soul

18. Do you want children?

Yeah but only like 2

19. Do you want a church wedding?

Yeah but nothing too big

20. Are you religious?

Kinda but not really. Like I acknowledge that there could be a God. But I don’t practice it that much. So basically I’M SINNING AND I’M WINNING

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?

Yeah. Twice. Once cause I had a bad ear infection and then another time I had pneumonia

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

Nope!

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?

Yes I have! Back in my emo days I meet Christofer Drew from Never Shout Never, which was actually pure luck! NSN was in town for a concert, but I couldn’t go because it was a 18+ venue so I couldn’t get in (I was in 8th grade at the time). So my family and I decided to go out to eat at a restaurant which was coincidentally across from the venue. So we were walking down the street and I see this huge tour bus right outside the restaurant. My heart starts racing and i thought “how cool would it be if I bumped into someone from the group” well lo and behold as we are coming closer to the bus, Christofer Drew turns the corner and walks towards the bus. So I stop in my tracks and just say “Christofer Drew?” And he stops and he says hi! He asked if I was going to the show and I said no and he goes “well you gotta promise you’ll come to the next one!” Of course I made the promise and I didn’t break it! He came back that summer and I got to see him ❤️ I also met two groups called Breathe Carolina and Crown The Empire. I also met Evan Peters and Sebastian Stan at Comic Con a couple years ago. I also met Corey Crawford. The goaltender for the Chicago Blackhawks, my favorite hockey team.

24. Baths or showers?

Showers! I don’t like the idea of bathing in your own filth.

25. What color socks are you wearing?

I’m not wearing any!

26. Have you ever been famous?

Nope lmao and I probably never will be

28. What type of music do you like?

I like oldies. Mostly from the 50s-80s. Anything from Dean Martin to Motley Crue. I do like modern music too. I still listen to some of the bands I listened to in middle school lol (like the ones i mentioned before and others like All Time Low, Pierce The Veil, Sleeping With Sirens, Of Mice & Men, Asking Alexandria, and a couple more.) I also like Greta Van Fleet and 5 Seconds of Summer. I also like spanish music. Like Maluma, Bad Bunny, Becky G, etc.

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?

Nope lol

30. How many pillows do you sleep with?

It depends. It could be one or none. Sometimes i don’t use a pillow

31. What position do you usually sleep in?

On my tummy!

32. How big is your house?

It’s a two bedroom apartment. I’m not complaining tho, its very cozy.

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?

If I wake up early enough lol it’ll usually be eggs (over medium), some coffee, and some bread

34. Have you ever fired a gun?

Nope and i don’t plan on it!

35. Have you ever tried archery?

Yes! I tried it when I was in Girl Scouts in elementary school

36. Favourite clean word?

Groovy

37. Favorite swear word?

definitely FUCK

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?

like a day? I got like four hours of sleep the night before. Got up at like 6am, went about my day. Then I stayed up until 7am working on a research paper for class (college is a BITCH).

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?

Nah cause your girl is hella ugly lmao

41. Are you a good liar?

Not at all. People can tell when I’m lying cause my voice gets high lmao

42. Are you a good judge of character?

Eh I do my best

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?

I try to do a posh British accent and I try to do a Steve Irwin Aussie accent

44. Do you have a strong accent?

People say I have a strong chicagoan accent but i don’t hear it!

45. What is your favourite accent?

I’m a sucker for aussie accents

46. What is your personality type?

just took the test..i got ISFP-T (adventurer)

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?

hmmmm all I can think of at the moment is my Doc Martens. They aren’t really clothing but it’s all I can think of lol

48. Can you curl your tongue?

Nope!

49. Are you an innie or an outie?

outie :(((( i hate it

50. Left or right-handed?

Right handed!

51. Are you scared of spiders?

YES YES YES

52. Favourite food?

Pasta! I could eat it all day, every day

53. Favourite foreign food?

Tamales and Pozole. That’s my shitttt

54. Are you a clean or messy person?

I try and be a clean person and stay organized but it only lasts for a bit then I go back to my messy ways lol

55. Most used phrase?

“that’s a mood” and “no mames guey” (Mexican slang)

56. Most used word?

Dude and Darling

57. How long does it take for you to get ready?

Depends. If I wear my hair natural, then an hour. But if I gotta style it, then like an hour and a half or two hours( I got a lot of fucking hair, dude).

58. Do you have much of an ego?

Hell no lmao. This bitch has a low self-esteem so 🤷🏻‍♀️

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?

Suck 🤪

60. Do you talk to yourself?

All the time lmao

61. Do you sing to yourself?

Yeah sometimes

62. Are you a good singer?

Nope lmao but I still do it anyways

63. Biggest Fear?

A lot of shit. Spiders, Holes (trypophobia), tearing my achilles or getting them cut (ever since I saw Pet Sematary), dolls, bugs crawling under my skin, throwing up...and i can’t think of anymore on the spot

64. Are you a gossip?

you bet your ass I am. Soy una chismosa lmao

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?

Titanic

66. Do you like long or short hair?

On girls, long but not too long. Maybe like mid-back. And guys, long, like ear length and longer

67. Can you name all 50 states of America?

Yeah but i couldn’t point them out on a map

68. Favourite school subject?

Biology/Human Anatomy. I’m a sucker for science

69. Extrovert or Introvert?

Definitely an introvert. No doubt about that lol

70. Have you ever been scuba diving?

Nope!

71. What makes you nervous?

Meeting new people, class discussions, and presentations

72. Are you scared of the dark?

If i’ve just seen a scary movie then yes lol

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?

Sometimes. For instance, if one of my friends from ecuador uses a word wrong in a sentence, then I would tell them the right way to say it to help them learn more english. i never correct someone to seem like i’m smarter or to be rude. It’s simply to help them.

74. Are you ticklish?

Yeah! In some places like my feet, neck, and my back,

75. Have you ever started a rumour?

No way! That’s terrible

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?

Only when babysitting my little cousins lol

77. Have you ever drank underage?

Yeah lmao. When I went away for college

78. Have you ever done drugs?

Once, when I hungout with a guy at school we smoked some weed

79. Who was your first real crush?

One of my friends from college. I met him Freshman year and I still like him...I’ve liked him for four years but i’ve never had the guts to tell him

80. How many piercings do you have?

6! I have four on my left ear and two on my right ear. I have the standard lobe piercings, then the upper lobe on both sides. Then on my left I have one above the upper. And then I have my helix pierced on the left side. (i hope this all made sense lol)

81. Can you roll your R’s?

Nope

82. How fast can you type?

Eh I would say pretty average

83. How fast can you run?

Not at all. I hate running

84. What colour is your hair?

Dark brown!

85. What color is your eyes?

Dark brown

86. What are you allergic to?

Some ingredient in the Banana Boat sunscreen. And some type of plant. I don’t exactly know which one cause I went to the botantic garden one time on a field trip and I don’t know which plant caused my allergic reaction but when I got home I had hives all over me.

87. Do you keep a journal?

Nope, never did

88. What do your parents do?

My mom is an ortho technician and my dad is a delivery man

89. Do you like your age?

Yeah I guess. I mean I can buy my own alcohol so that’s pretty neat

90. What makes you angry?

Everything

91. Do you like your own name?

Eh it’s alright. Pretty boring

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?

I like the name Elena for a girl and Jonathan for a boy

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?

Doesn’t matter to me

94. What are you strengths?

I’m a ride or die bitch.

95. What are your weaknesses?

I don’t really share my emotions so I keep things bottled up

96. How did you get your name?

My cousin picked out my name

97. Were your ancestors royalty?

Not that I know of. But what I do know is I have family from Spain.

98. Do you have any scars?

Yeah, one on my arm from when I burned myself with my straightener. And another at the place where my nose meets my forehead, between my brows. When I was in elementary school, I was running out on the playground and I tripped and I slide across the cement and scraped my nose and my whole forehead. THERE. WAS. BLOOD. EVERYWHERE.

99. Colour of your bedspread?

Light pink

100. Colour of your room?

White!

I tag: @tommyleeownsme, @babe-mustaine, @waycooljunior, and @universal-scorpio ❤️

#sorry this is hella long #omfg #personal

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hallo-spaceb0y · 3 years

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Getting to know me tag!

Thank you @chans-baby-girl for tagging me, this looks fun :)

1. When is your birthday?

May 11th

2. What is your favourite colour?

Pink, brown and grey

3. What is your lucky number?

4. How tall are you?

166cm, so 5'5?

5. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

I'm a sucker for shoes, I'd say about ten?

6. Favourite song(s)?

MOONSHOT by N.Flying, Cassette by DEMIAN, Jogging by LUCY, In My Room by SHINee, LMLY by Jackson Wang, RED by The Rose, Moon by BTS, Would You Mind by PRETTYMUCH, RED BLACK by Kazuo

(I'll try remember to add my spotify to my linktree there are too many)

7. Favourite movie?

Howl's Moving Castle all the way that hits different every time and I have the fattest crush on Howl

8. What would be your ideal partner?

I actually was thinking about this a couple nights ago.

So, LOOKS wise, I tend to like short boys who look like a gust of winf would blow them away, or girls who could crush my head between their thighs without breaking a sweat. Androgynous people are just always hot, I am yet to meet a not hot androgynous person. But that may just be gender envy who knows.

PERSONALITY wise, i find it really attractive when the person is incredibly book-smart. Like intelligent and nerdy. All my previous crushes have been on massive nerds who would go off about their interests. I love it. Also its just kinda how when they just, /know/, so many things. I cant explain it, but it makes me blush and gives me butterflies. Also please hold my hand, and make eyecontact with me. Because those two things will make me fall in love with you. gnfgn I wrote so much omg

9. Do you want children?

10. Have you gotten in trouble with the law?

Uh...I mean I've never gotten CAUGHT. So no. I have not.

11. What colour socks are you wearing?

I'm actually wearing obnoxiously yellow Hufflepuff socks a friend got me a couple years back

12. Bath or shower?

It depends. If I need to give a concert, shower. But if I need to wallow in self pity, bath.

13. Favourite kinds of music?

Rap but specifically London rap, Kpop, songs you would run through a flower field to, songs you would throw it back to, songs that make me feel hot, I also really like classical music BBC's Classic FM is one of my most listened to stations.

14. How many pillows do you sleep with?

I currently have nine on my bed, three big plushes, and several smaller plushies. I need a body pillow.

15. What position do you sleep in?

I am the big spoon to my massive RJ plushie. So on my side like I'm holding someone. Except I'm not its an RJ plushie ;')

16. What don't you like while sleeping?

Light and silence

17. What do you usually eat for breakfast?

I usually don't eat breakfast, but if I do then some spicy rice thing.

18. Have you ever tried archery?

19. What are your favourite fruits?

Kiwifruit and mandarins. Frozen blueberries. ALL MANGO. Dried strawberries.

20. Favourite swear word?

Idk when I'm put on the spot I usually swear like "Oh bloody hell" or "shitting hell" or "twat", but in conversation 'fucking' is a pretty good adjective.

21. Do you have any scars?

Too many. Some couldn't have been prevented, but some ought to have been.

22. Are you a good liar?

A frighteningly good liar.

23. What is your personality type?

ISTP-A

24. What is your favourite type of girl?

A girl who takes up her space.

25. Left or right handed?

Cross-dominance. So, I write with my right, but thats only because I was told to. Everything else I have no preference.

26. Favourite food?

Tteokbokki or gnocci.

27. Are you clean or messy?

Very clean.

28. Favourite foreign food?

Thai. 100%. That shit BUSSIN

29. How llong does it take you to get ready?

On a normal day when I have classes then about half a hour, but if I'm going out then an hour and a half.

30. Most used phrase?

"Darling" (I call people pet names, but 'darling' has become a 'thing'

"Mais je ne veux pas" (Usually to my mother)

"Can you please not"

"Oh how exciting" (sometimes sarcastic, sometimes genuine)

31. Are you a good singer?

I can sing both parts to Tightrope from The Greatest Showman really well. My vocal range is closest to Sia's I think, with the super deep and very high. SO yes.

32. Do I sing to myself?

All the time

33. Biggest fear?

That I'll regret it

34. Do you like long or short hair?

I currently have a what I like to call 'Kpop Mullet'. So short.

35. Are you into gossip?

Yes and no, I always know everything, but I never pass it on. I just know and keep my mouth shut.

36. Introvert or extrovert?

Introvert

37. Favourote school subject?

Science, French, Chinese, Fashion

38. What makes you nervous?

Noise

39. Who was your first real crush?

This guy when I was 12. We were in the same class, and we liked eachother, We 'got together' on a school trip to China, and held hands on the Huangpu River cruise in Shanghai, and we actually went out for eight months. It dosnt seem very long now, but it felt like a passionate whirlwind of romance to my tiny 12-year-old-self. We went on movie and shopping dates. We did good morning and goodnight texts. We said 'I love you' and really ment it. He was my comfort person and I still feel bittersweet thinking about him. I'd like to have that support now.

40. How many piercings do you have?

Two, my lobes. I only have so little because I have no time for healing because I swim so much. I usually wear clip-ons or cuffs. I want to get my tongue done.

41. How fast can you run?

I don't run

42. What makes you angry?

The first thing that comes to mind is the patriarchy and all the horror it encourages, and my second thought is when you can hear electricity.

43. Do you like your own name?

My parents sat me down and told me it would be fine of I change it. Unprompted. Make what you want of that.

44. What are your weaknesses? I'm almost always over or under stimulated.

45. What are your strengths?

I am suuuper confident with who I am and how I act, and that makes day-to-day life really easy. It may sometimes be faked, but we're all here to put on a show.

46. What colour is your beadspread?

Light blue with flowers.

47. What colour is your room?

We have white walls, but I have cob=vered them in my art and pictures. Like its a massive collage, my ceiling too.

Thank you Dayzee this was so much fun! I hope you learnt about me ;)

#moots #mutuals #this was so much fun #thank youu #thanks for the tag

0 notes

segadores-y-soldados · 7 years

Text

SEP: Sunsets

I wrote this based on the comic “SEP Days” that my friend @vapewraith drew - I love silly SEP and Crisis interactions between Gabriel and Jack so I loved this comic and really wanted to show how much Vape’s art and colors inspire me.

Thank you again, Vapewraith - thank you for nearly nine months of your wonderful Overwatch art! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ---------

“Soldiers, line up here.”

There are tart groans and muttered whines as the SEP candidates shuffle to a stop and the group practically collapses against the walls and waist-high concrete barriers. The exhaustion and aches are practically tangible in the air as the supersoldiers-in-training ease themselves into sitting or leaning or even lying positions - Number: 37 practically throws herself on the group even though it’s as miserably comfortable as sleeping on broken groundstone. Number: 123 next to Gabriel rolls his shoulders, hissing every time the right one moves back too far, exactly where one of the rubber bullets had hit him earlier. Number: 88 on the other side of Jack seats herself and then curls up into a ball, pulling the drawstrings on her hood to shut the world into what Jack assumes is blissful darkness.

They’re in one of the halls of the SEP facility - tucked away into a deep mountainside “somewhere out west,” the building is hard angles and brutal concrete and cut-steel, as soft as titanium and as gentle as the injections they get every morning and evening. Yet even here, in “wherever’s-range,” there is still beauty: the massive windows, normally just cold, crystalline glass, are open to the sunset, bleeding colors across the land and sky, dripping into the hallway with the vibrancy of oil paints. Reds smoke into bright, endless pinks, golds melt into bold, sunshine yellows, oranges shift into liquid amber, and at the edges of the atmosphere, velvet purples sigh into silky blues, tinting the more vivid colors and steeped clouds with the dusk of night and the emerging stars.

It’s a sight neither Gabriel nor Jack will ever get tired of -

No matter how exhausted they are.

“The doctors will see you shortly -” the SEP instructor starts to say, reappearing at the far end of the hallway, before he looks up from the papers on his clipboard and scowls at the group of crumbling supersoldiers, snapping, “Is that what you call ‘lining up?’”

“Maybe if y’all didn’t work us so damn hard,” Number: 141 growls, his voice climbing into a hoarse yell, “We’d still have the energy to fucking stand!”

(The rest is under the cut!)

There are shouts of agreement and calls of “Yeah that!” and quiet mumbles of assent. Gabriel huffs to himself, sliding himself onto the concrete barrier and trying his hardest not to wince as his muscles settle into a sitting position. He’s used to hard work and even harder workouts, but today had been...brutal. 3 am running through the facility and into the mountains and back, to 10 am sparring and boxing and hand-to-hand combat, to 1 pm “simulation training” where they ran teams in rubber-bullet fire-fights, to 4 pm regulated work outs of push ups and squats and curls, to now - 8 pm - where they fall to their pieces in concrete hallways, waiting for doctors to take their biodata and continue churning them into statistics for the U.S. government before jamming more needles in their arms and sending them to brutal, uncomfortable cots in the dorms.

Jack slides himself up next to Gabriel, sighing just loud enough for his best friend to hear, “Today...was pretty bad.”

“Would’ve been easier on you if you hadn’t burned yourself out on those push ups,” Gabriel grunts back, pulling a pack of cigarettes from a pant pocket. He taps one out, muttering with some confusion, “Why were you doing all those one-armed push ups?”

To try and impress you, Jack thinks in bittersweet, bright shades as he leans against the wall. The haze of the brilliant colors coating the room and the world beyond is beautiful, better than the sunsets he used to see out in Indiana, and although Jack always listens to Gabriel’s complaints of “LA has better sunsets, amigo,” Jack knows Gabriel has slowly been won over by the rough, raw beauty of the SEP facility, “edgy” and hard and rough-cut like sawed-off shotguns, but watercolor-painted in the sunrises and oil-drenched in the sunsets.

And even though the barrier he’s sitting on is edgy and hard and rough-cut

There’s something warm and smoky-sweet about this small moment of reprieve

As soft as the sunset clouds and as comfortable as Gabriel’s charming, vivid voice

Breathing colors and light into Jack’s drifting mind.

“Someone has to be the cool badass around here, Gabe,” Jack chuckles dryly, sliding his eyes shut as Gabriel teases back, “Pretty sure that’s not you, boy scout. How are you gonna look badass if one arm is more swole than the other?”

“That’s when...I know it’s time to switch to the other arm,” Jack murmurs to the sweet sunset of Gabriel’s words, his head dipping slightly -

“I’m also pretty sure that’s not how it works,” Gabriel grins, reaching for the lighter in his other pocket as he glances at the line to his side. It’s moving slow - the doctors are clearly taking their time with this one, but the supersoldiers aren’t...helping, per se. No one is quick to stand back up and Gabriel is pretty certain that at least two-thirds of them are already passed out.

“I warned them to pace themselves,” he mutters, flicking the lighter before lifting the small flame to the end of the cigarette. Gabriel clicks it back off, stuffing it into his pocket, saying quietly, “And you, Juan - you shouldn’t push yourself so hard either - you’re just gonna hurt yourself -”

He feels something solid and strong, yet warm and surprisingly comfortable slug against his back.

...The fuck? Gabriel thinks as the lump shifts slightly against him, scowling as he feels the body breath in-out, in-out, steady-steady, a rhythm like the tide and the roll of lazy summer storms, and there’s a whisper of that inhale-exhale of life against his hood -

Gabriel twists a little, turning that scowl towards Jack, as the blonde, in his haze of exhausted, drifting sleep, rests further on the warm, comfortable friend he’s fallen against -

“...Jack, c’mon,” Gabriel mutters sourly, but...not as sourly as he should, shit, he should feel more frustrated by this, he should be pushing Jack away, but the line isn’t moving very fast and Jack looks fucking worn, his friend has looked so tired the last few days, a little sleep couldn’t hurt, Jack needs to sleep more -

“Jack, man, you gotta get up,” Gabriel says, but he’s not sure if he actually wants Jack to get up, there’s something real nice about how Jack is leaning on him, about how comfortable his body is against Gabriel’s back, about how smoky-sweet the moment is -

About how the dying sunlight catches in Jack’s hair -

About how the color graces the high cut of Jack’s cheekbone -

Nope, Gabriel thinks fiercely, taking a long pull from his cigarette as he tries to refocus on the line in front of them - why is it moving so damn slow - and nope, nope, not doing this today, c’mon, Reyes, pull your shit together -

Number: 123 looks at the two of them skeptically as Jack continues to lean further into Gabriel’s back, and Gabriel grumbles, “Don’t judge me.”

“...It’s kinda hard not to,” Number: 123 chuckles, “You’re such a sucker for him -”

“Listen, he had a rough day, okay?” Gabriel mutters, but it sounds weak and defensive, even to his own ears and Number: 123 shrugs sarcastically, replying coyly, “We all had a rough day, 127 - but he’s the only one you’ll give special treatment to.”

“...I’d let you lean on me…?” Gabriel says back, but it’s half a question too, and Number: 123 cracks up slightly, chuckling, “Sure you would, 127 - I’m gonna take you up on that offer someday, just you watch -”

Somewhere in the haze of his shifting sleep, Jack feels the rumble of a warm, strong back, smoky-sweet, steeped in sunset colors, and a voice whose laughter sings colors into his heart and -

He pulls closer.

He’d hold that voice - smoky-sweet and colorful - forever in this moment, if he could.

“Alright, asshole, look -” Gabriel starts to retort when he jolts slightly, his eyes going wide as -

An arm snakes around his waist.

Number: 123 snorts and Number: 37 on his other side even turns to look, smirking devilishly as Gabriel feels a second arm wrap around him and shit shit shit shit -

“Didn’t know you were part octopus, Jack,” Gabriel whispers rather loudly, rather sarcastically, causing several of the other supersoldiers around them to snicker and snort, but Gabriel feels Jack nuzzle his head against his back and shit -

Shit, Reyes, c’mon - don’t think about your best friend like that, don’t think about your best friend like that, Gabriel reminds himself, trying to let the cigarette calm him down, trying to ignore how Jack’s arms fit perfectly around him, trying to deny how he’s surprisingly comfortable with how Jack presses into his back and -

It’s just a silly crush, it doesn’t mean anything, you’re tired, you’re thinking too much -

“Dammit, Morrison,” Gabriel huffs, “God dammit. Don’t do this to me, dude -” as the other supersoldiers snap a few pictures, one of them even giggling, “Jack’s gonna get a kick out of this.”

“Don’t you dare show him this,” Gabriel warns them, but they refuse to listen.

“Just lie down and let him cuddle you, 127,” Number: 123 teases him, as Number: 37 grins, “Enjoying his sweet embrace there?”

“Okay, no, now it’s starting to get kinda awkward,” Gabriel admits as Jack continues to lean into him, sleeping heavily, sleeping comfortably as -

Jack’s fingers dig into Gabriel’s side -

“Oh God,” Gabriel half-shouts, half-squirms as several of the awake supersoldiers laugh and wheeze, and the joke’s on them, because Gabriel would never admit aloud that the way Jack clings, the way his fingers tug at Gabriel’s shirt is by far

One of the best things Gabriel has ever felt.

BAIL, every alarm bells screams into his head, Dude, you’re not emotionally equipped to deal with this moment right now, bail, bail! Get to the chopper!

Gabriel stubs out the only half-smoked cigarette and struggles to shift against the pull of Jack’s arms, the grip of his fingers, shrugging and wiggling and writhing. But with every twist, Jack just seems to pull harder, cling more, his hands grabbing at Gabriel’s shirt, the slight slip of his skin -

Fuuuuuuuck me, fuck you, Jack, fuck everything, Gabriel groans to himself, dying slightly inside, finally feeling an opportunity as Jack grabs at the hem of his sweatshirt instead, managing to twist out of his grip, but Jack pulls harder on the cloth. Gabriel feels the sweatshirt slip, and he -

He gives up.

You gotta lose something in the Great Octopus War, Gabriel tells himself, pulling one arm through the sleeve as he turns around, crawling off the concrete barrier, yanking the second arm through but -

He freezes

As Jack curls tighter around his sweatshirt.

“You managed to escape!” Number: 123 chuckles, turning back to his phone and Number: 37 smirks, “Good job on getting out of that training simulation, 127!”

But Gabriel isn’t listening to them

Because -

In the sweeping clouds of semi-slumber, Jack frowns a little to himself - that rumbling, warm strength is gone, where did it go, he wants it to come back, he wants to hold it forever, he wants to feel it laugh again, it was the most comfortable thing he’s felt but -

But there’s something soft and smoky-sweet in his arms now, with a lingering sunset warmth and the scent of something bittersweet but so nice, so nice and -

He thinks he sees Gabriel.

He thinks he sees Gabriel in bright, vivid sunset oils, reds and pinks, golds and yellows, oranges and ambers.

He thinks he sees Gabriel give him that bright, vivid sunset smile - a grin charming and bold, happy and smoky-sweet.

Jack pulls the softness closer to him, murmuring to the dream in his mind:

“...Gabe.”

Gabriel is not listening to the supersoldiers around them

Because as Jack snuggles deeper into his sweatshirt, tinted gold in the dying sunlight, a faint smile flittering on Jack’s face, broad arms cradling hoodie and head

Gabriel knows

That he hears Jack whisper, warmly, fondly, with a bright happiness:

“...Gabe.”

Gabriel cannot deny how his heart skips a beat at that.

...Why, Gabriel thinks slowly, as slowly as the line moves, as slowly as time drifts, as slowly as Jack’s head dips further into the folds of his sweatshirt. Why do you have to say my name like that. Why do you have to look so content. Why do you have to look so good like that.

His hand is in his pocket, wrapped around his phone, before he realizes it.

...Don’t, a part of his mind cautions him sarcastically as he pulls the phone out, Don’t do this. Be smarter than this, Gabriel. You’re going to get in too deep. You’re going to get your precious feelings hurt.

But another part of him -

He thinks it might be his heart -

Says back, with surprising earnestness:

This moment is yours.

In a building of edgy, hard, rough-cut walls, made of stone-cold concrete, brutal and dry -

In a program of daily runs through hallways and mountains, endless sparring and simulations, long hours of fake-fighting and sometimes real fighting and painful, bitter injections -

In a group of people being slowly, slowly - as slowly as this line moves, as slowly as time drifts, as slowly as the sun slips low - transformed into something more, something super-human, something beyond human -

In all of this -

There are still moments where Jack smiles

While saying his name

While cuddling his sweatshirt

While looking more than perfect.

Why, Gabriel thinks slowly, so slowly, yet he fears if he doesn’t take this, if he doesn’t do this now, he’ll lose this moment forever. Why do you do this to me. Why do you make me feel this way.

Gabriel snaps a quick picture of Jack’s sleepy, roguish grin, pressed sideways into the grey cloth of his sweatshirt.

Because being in love -

Stupid, sexy Morrison.

Is just as beautiful as the smoky-sweet sunset

And, Gabriel knows -

Often just as hard as the brutal, angular concrete.

Gabriel slots himself by the floor, at the base of the concrete barrier, as Number: 123 slides over slightly, grinning, “I can’t believe you got out of that trap.”

“You and me both,” Gabriel mutters, but there’s a wistful edge to his tone because...he’s not entirely sure he wanted to leave Jack’s arms. He taps at the picture, setting it to the wallpaper, glancing back at his friend, still snuggling into his sweatshirt, before scowling and looking back.

Now fully prone, Jack feels something shift in his mind, and he flutters an eye open, colors swimming back into view and the light chatter of the waiting supersoldiers filling his ears. There’s soft fabric pressed into the side of his head, and it feels so warm, so comfortable, lingering with a gentle strongness that Jack barely remembers -

Gabe.

The thought stirs in his mind and he tilts his head slightly, looking for his friend and -

Oh.

Gabriel is slumped against the floor, tapping through some pictures on his phone - images of the supersoldiers, a shot of a pier in LA, a picture from his sister showing off some drink, the usual.

But

Gabriel is not wearing his standard hoodie.

He’s muttering something to Number: 123, who’s laughing lightly at whatever he’s saying and oh lordy -

Jack grins sleepily, lazily, coyly.

The sight of Gabriel in just a tank top - broad shoulders and gilded-rich skin and the swell of the strength in his back -

Is a sight Jack will never get tired of.

Jack buries his head a little deeper in the grey fabric, nuzzling into the remaining warmth of Gabriel there, thinking smugly, Objective captured.

---------

I cannot wait for part 2!! I’m so excited to see where this comic goes and how Jack reacts to everything.

#reaper76 #r76 #reaper #gabriel reyes #soldier 76 #jack morrison #vapewraith #sep days #sep sunsets #I just #love Vapewraith's stuff so much #it's been so inspiring #and is a big part of why I'm in this r76 fandom #and she was so excited when I asked if I could write this #THANK YOU VAPE #AGAIN #X INFINITY #ficlet

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redphlox · 7 years

Text

lotus-eater: part 1

Summary: Maka should have known nothing good could come from making big life decisions on too little sleep. When she breaks her own promise and sings to Soul on his birthday, will this slip up bring them closer, or will her secret break their bond? modern siren au. Alsooo be ready for asexuality talk! c:

this was supposed to be a valentine’s day oneshot for @soundofez but now it turned into a multi-part thing that’s very late, as per usual, but it’s here now (and on ffn and ao3)! shoutout to @professor-maka , @the-brightest-fell , and @thefishywitchy for the support and eyes and patience :)

In the four am serenity, a solid blackness stares at them through the small window above the sink while a surreal yellow light surrounds them from above. It heightens everything, from the content exhaustion between them to the mess they've created. Spots of flour blanket the things Maka loves most - the smooth marble surfaces of the Evanses’ kitchen, her best friend’s fingers, the soft cotton of his shirt, and the curve of his eyebrow.

Even her lashes are coated with it. Flashes of white flutter in and out of her vision as she blinks and screws up her face at his request.

In response, Soul leans back to rest his elbows on the counter, the dollop of pink frosting she had painted over his dimple moving with his sheepish grin. “That’s my one wish. For you to sing me ‘happy birthday’.”

Instinct means Maka echoes him without thinking - leaning forward to stay close, hands splayed on either side of him for balance. They’re in sync, one never too far behind the other, but what numbs Maka’s mind right now is the view from here. Normally he towers over her, but at the moment he's perched on the bar stool, ethereal in her shadow as she hovers over him, and it's both intoxicating and humbling.

The sleep in his eyes is hypnotic.

“I don't sing,” she says.

“Please?”

Maka only resists his gravity enough to straighten and reach for the cake they baked and decorated together between fits of laughter and snark, finger leaving a dent along its side. She then safely returns to her place, one thigh wedged between his knees, wasting no time in smearing the icing across the tip of his nose.

“I can’t sing, Soul.”

He’s more still than a canvas as she brushstrokes pastel pink on both his cheeks and the spot between his brows, where the skin is rumpled with worry. “Why?”

Too many reasons exist for that, but mostly - mostly, because she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself. Instead of opening Pandora’s box, though, she settles for a neutral, “Well… I don’t have the best voice.”

“... I can't imagine there's something you're not good at,” is his innocent musing, blinking at her.

When she shakes her head, it feels like she’s letting him down. “I’m not perfect, Soul.”

There’s that roguish grin of his, making her heart do feverish somersaults. “Pfft. I never said you were. I meant - I don’t care what your singing sounds like. It’s you, and that’s what matters.”

Sometimes his sweetness is too much, like a mouthful of sugar that won't dissolve fast enough and stays clumped on her tongue, reminding her that too much of a good thing could lead to disaster. Soul’s tenderness is borderline bitter, fatal, threatening even, because an overdose of anything has the potential to be lethal.

And maybe that’s what she deserves, too, a little risk to her health, but she settles with accepting just the right amount of Soul’s love: enough to never let her forget she’s a fraud who’s decided to bask in his softness until both time and the truth are out.

So far, he’s clueless, thank goodness. If he knew why she can't sing, nothing would be the same, so she hasn’t told him, and won’t -

Hell is the ‘what if’s’ not allowing her to rest. What if she could be promised that nothing would change if she sang to him? Sometimes she thinks she’s weak to temptation, just like her papa, and the unwelcome comparison shakes some sanity back into her, fast.

To distract herself from the lump clotting up her throat (is that his sweetness again, a double edged sword?) she dabs the rest of the frosting on his cheeks, self-conscious under his searching gaze. He’s her childhood best friend, her number one supporter, her strength - his undying devotion to her is his choice alone, and she can’t bear changing that.

Back and forth, back and forth. Should she sing, should she not?

What if?

Maka hates that she’s the one responsible for the trouble spelled out on his face as he makes a lazy fist and presses it against her cheek, barely rubbing his knuckles into her skin to bring her back to reality. “You still there? Are you seeing ghosts or something?”

“Just you.” She nods, failing to offer a convincing smile. “I’m just looking at you, not thinking or anything.”

Soul frets over her with such selfless love it makes her feel faint. She's probably taken a chunk of precious years off his life over the span of their friendship, is probably hammering another nail in his coffin as he fries his brain trying to diagnose her sudden distance. “You don't look okay, though...”

Shrugging, Maka presses a finger against his lips to shush him. “Just tired, is all...”

Maybe it's the sleep deprivation, but she finds herself believing they're the last souls left on this earth - just herself, her best friend, and static humming louder the longer they stare at each other. That is her ideal world, one she's fantasized about far too many times when life isn’t going the way she pictured it. Given the impossible, energy-draining, possibly out-ing situation, it’s natural that she tricks herself into believing in it right now, but even that feels wrong.

It all comes down to being perpetually distressed. She's just so bone-deep tired she can barely think of anything but leading him away by the wrist to seek refuge under his comforter before the morning light breaks through the black curtains he always keeps shut in his room. Safety means being between his sheets, and right now she needs to be quarantined there. A healthy bout of platonic spooning would be beneficial too, and if she’s a bad person for knowing that Soul’s a sucker for cuddling and thus won't reject her, then she’ll proudly wear that label.

She tugs on his arm with desperate haste, taking a step toward the stairwell. “It’s bed time for us, anyway--”

“Wait, wait - what about my birthday? And my song?” The genuine disappointment in his voice stalls her mid-stride. “And my cake?”

She frowns, feeling her resolve dissipate. “It’s late.”

He’s always been better than her at pouting. His is frustratingly adorable and leagues above hers in the persuading category. “But my birthday wish…”

Of course he knows this is her signature move when things get heavy and muddled and she doesn’t want to deal with the headache of sorting it out - to run away, to stop thinking for even the briefest of moments. Sleep is her escape, and while Soul has never turned down an invitation to drift off together, whether it be in the middle of the day or hours after an appropriate bedtime, he’s never let her get away with hiding from herself, either.

Ironically, she’s in the habit of dreaming to both get closer to him and forget about the one thing she can't reveal, and all she can do is hope he won’t edge too close to her secret. He’s smart, though, so he’s prying a little, expecting to hit something that will make her wall crumble. It’s just like him to be attentive and curious and watchful. Brand him too intuitive, like he knows there’s something she’s keeping from him without fully realizing it himself.

Either way, she feels an argument budding between them as resentment rushes through her like a storm - all of it aimed toward her legacy and lineage, but it comes out directed at Soul anyway. What hurts the most is she can’t give him what he wants despite all the tantalizing ‘what if’s’: a birthday song.

Saying it aloud feels like torture though, despite her voice being firm as she proclaims it, looking at him straight in the face: “I’m not singing okay? I suck at it. I’m not a karaoke machine so you can take your pity party somewhere else. I’m tired and I want to sleep, and I want you to sleep with me, okay? That’s your gift for now. Take it or leave it.”

“Okay.”

She opens her mouth - I just don’t want to sing ok? Can you stop attacking me about it? - and something like a squawk comes out when her brain finally processes his words. “What did you just say?”

His response is laughter. Maka stares at him and he just guffaws, sharp teeth and boyish grin almost unreal in this weird lighting, the lateness making her senses perceive things funny. Often she thinks he’s more mythical than she is, what with his eyes the same shade as passion and his hair so white it blinds when they’re out on the town, the sunshine beating down on their heads.

Screw him and his voice, which is something mesmerizing, too. Even the shortest and most unexpected of his replies manage to hook her. “I said ‘okay.’”

Now it’s her turn to drill him. “That’s it? No smartass reply? No complaining?”

“Nahhh... I mean, you’ve never sung me happy birthday before, and we do sleep together all the time, but I don’t like change.”

“I… don’t like it, either.” A little voice in her head mutters that change could be good, though - it could lead to another kind of closeness, a more romantic one. This moment could make one of her ‘what ifs’ real.

It’s a dangerous insinuation, and it lights a spark, a bad one.

Soul pokes her on the forehead with his free hand in a way that lets her know he’s trying to diffuse the situation. “Unless you want to argue? Because I’m always down for a screaming match. I throw my best burns at fuck o’clock, the odds are in my favor.”

No witty reply comes out of her because she’s too busy gathering her courage. It’s when his arm is no longer a taut rope in her hands, resisting to be pulled away, that she realizes how much influence she already has on him. He’s loose, limber, malleable. They’re used to playing follow the leader, and he’s looking to her for guidance even though they’re in his house and it’s his birthday and today’s supposed to be about him and she should be along for the ride, not the other way around.

Maka knows he’s not keeping track, that there’s no deep-seated resentment toward her, but she can’t help but feel like the worst best friend for not singing a silly song to him. And her winning, can-do attitude can’t have that hanging over her pride. Neither can her feelings for Soul, even though that goes both ways.

It’s just - complicated. The ‘what if’s’ are too good to pass up. They spread like a deliberate wildfire, consuming what’s left of the promise she had made to herself years ago.

“C’mon, Grumpy,” he says, throwing an arm around her shoulders and gently pushing her - to his room probably, already having accepted that she won’t even hum a childish, harmless tune to commemorate that he’s lived another year.

She could scream at herself. But instead, Maka tries to gulp down a knot that won’t budge, and digs her heels into the pristine floorboards. She knows what she’s going to say before the idea has time to fully unfold in her head. Maybe she’s known her whole life this moment would come, and she’s been preparing for it since kindergarten when she got her first detention because she blew a resentful raspberry at her music teacher, who just didn't understand that no means no when it came to singing.

Funny that their roles reverse so quickly, with Maka the one unwilling to budge this time. “Wait, wait. I’ll do it.”

He looks at her, half-listening. “Huh?”

“You’re right. Who needs sleep? We’ll light your candles and I’ll sing you your birthday song right now!”

Mildly curious brows hike up and disappear beneath messy bangs. He’s in dire need of a haircut, not a sugar rush, not a song that could change him, them. “And we’ll eat the cake, too?”

This time, the smile playing on her lips is real despite the hammering in her chest. “Of course.”

Things move in slow motion after that. Soul doesn’t bother wiping the frosting off his face because he’s beside himself as Maka takes her time sticking the candles on the red velvet cake, his face brightening the room with another type of light that can’t be seen, only felt. Maka blames the dizziness overtaking her, making her feel like she’s been awake for thousands of years, bottling up her feelings for him even longer.

If Soul notices that her hands tremble as she lights the candles, he doesn’t say anything. He watches closely, though, diligently enough to make her wonder if the heat on her skin is from the flame for his stare.

Now her pulse is in her throat as she tries to blink the drowsiness away. “Ready?”

“Wait - let me come up with a wish.”

Too late to back out now, she tells herself instead of admitting she hopes his singing makes him happy, not even hearing a faraway ticking of a clock. The Evanses should have one on the wall behind her, but she’s paralyzed by giddy fear and can’t turn her head to investigate - maybe its battery ran out?

She’s not thinking right, and it all boils down to the fact that sleeplessness is dangerous. Insomnia tends to reduce her into a sap - a teary-eyed, rambly, feelsy mess with no self control or sense of shame or boundaries, though it's not like the lines are clear anymore, what with the two of them practically sutured at the hip.

They’re best friends, after all. It’s no secret that she’s practically moved into his bedroom and has claimed a side of his bed, keeping a book on his nightstand. She feels the safest with Soul, awake or not - it must be something about his soul’s wavelength pounding distantly near hers. He's like her guardian angel, always providing a shoulder to cry on or working her last nerve, drawing out extreme emotion from her, which is lifesaving in itself.

As usual, Soul seems to be the only one in the room thinking right, never breaking eye contact as he decides he’s ready.

Sacrifices. Maka must make sacrifices to grow their friendship. All those stigmas about sirens aren’t true, even if she’s a fourth of one thanks to her papa. Soul Eaters with no moral code, taking what’s not theirs and keeping it; Body Snatchers who enjoy flesh excessively, who dirty anyone they touch. None of it’s real.

It’s just singing. Harmless, innocent, an act of love. Sirens love saving souls, as papa constantly reminds her - not eating, not snatching, not collecting. Saving.

Soul clears his throat. “You don’t have to, you know.”

Her vision is blurring, and she’s not sure why. “What?”

“Singing.” He motions at the cake and shrugs. “You don’t have to. I was just being an ass. I’ll still make my birthday wish before we go to bed, though.”

“No - no, I want to!”

Does she, though? Maka has seen what it’s done to mama, and she’s facepalmed enough at her papa’s scandals to know that the consequences of singing could be negative, but there’s that one sliver of a chance this could turn out positive, right?

What if!

Maka can’t tell if she’s being a hopeless romantic, an overzealous optimist, or a fool. “I want to… it’s your birthday.”

“I only want what you want,” is all he says, and it hits the soft spot she has for him so accurately it hurts, because that’s all she wants, too. That’s why they work so well: because there aren’t any conditions or hesitations or reservations about their love for one another, because they’re both committed to making their relationship last.

Except, today feels... off.

It's his birthday, he's been trying to convince her to take a daytrip away from their eclectic city by the sea, she's been resisting his excited and tantalizing points by shuffling their attention to swimming and feasting at all his favorite buffets, and something’s bound to break in this quiet reality-altering late hour. Aside from their playful arguing, it's been a perfect day, and not just because she thinks her planning is top quality - it's evident in the way he's been grinning all day, unreserved and honest.

She even dares to think she’s brightened up his mood a little bit, because melancholy tends to worm its way into him around this time of year.

So why is she tearing up?

Happy birthday to you… happy birthday to you…. Happy birthday dear Soul…

Yeah, she’s definitely crying now, but she doesn’t rush through, doesn’t skip out on repeating it one more time, maybe twice on accident since she’s so out of it. By the end, her hands have found their way to her face, covering up her tears, hiding her, but she begs herself to be brave and peeks out between her fingers at him.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath, not blinking, not moving. Maka has never seen him this focused, entranced even, his pupils wide, consuming the color of his irises until they’re a barely-there rim. They have her thinking when you stare into the abyss the abyss stares back and it’s nothing reassuring at all. “Wow, Maka. Fuck.”

The aftermath is everything her nightmares had promised, the energy between them shifting with a sigh into something unreadable and different, with no indication if it’s for the better or the worse. Her insides are a muted fireworks show: rattling and exploding with emotion color coded in angry reds and ominous blues and revolting greens, the yellows making her blood pool in her feet, the white numbing her.

It’s all in her head, obviously, because there’s nothing but darkness outside and weird lightning where they’re standing, but the way he’s looking at her - sure, she’s caught glimpses of him staring at her that way before, and she’s never known what to make of them, but now he’s not bothering to mask any of it.

She’s sobered up a little bit, too, meeting his eyes. This was a mistake - she can already tell by the way the current between them changes.

It only makes sense. All that otherwordly, feel-good vibe between them only existed during the day, when the light bathed everything in a layer of hope and her heart felt full as Soul slipped his fingers through hers every time they navigated the boardwalk. Now the heaviness of the late hour hits her and it's obvious she shouldn’t have granted his birthday wish - and now she can’t face what she’s done. Nor can she look at him to offer an apologetic wince, because suddenly anything but the deep red of his eyes is interesting.

“Maka?”

Heartbreak is smeared all over her face, and she can't look at him. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she sniffles, ignoring his napkin offering and wiping her own tears away, laughing shakily. “Go ahead, make your wish!”

The flickering candlelight throws his eyes into deep shadows as he squints, and he only pauses one, two, three, four seconds before leaning over and pursing his lips, blowing them all out successfully.

Maybe Maka should have made a wish instead.

Nothing’s wrong at first. Soul gifts her one of those rare open grins, dimple and all, and he protests and makes her stand on her tip-toes to clean his face of the frosting she painted on him. He doesn’t try to kiss her like she’s seen some people react to a siren’s singing, doesn’t fall into a heap at her feet, begging her to let him rub her shoulders or do her errands. He doesn’t even get that look on his face again.

Good.

Well - she’d like some of that, but not because she sang. It’s unclear if there’s even been any effect until they’re upstairs and Soul insists that he doesn’t mind clearing out one of his drawers to make room for her clothes, since she stays here so much. Maka only gives him a sidelong look before spitting out her mouthwash.

And then, it’s confirmed: she’s messed up their friendship.

“Hey,” he says in the dark once they’re settled in his bed, arms around each other’s shoulders. “Didn’t mean to pressure you about the singing. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine!” God help her. She can’t be honest with him and it’s bound to splinter them apart, deliberately and slowly. “... I’m... self-conscious about my singing.”

“You didn’t sound like a dying banshee clawing at a chalkboard or anything.”

Fingers in his hair, she gives his locks a light hearted tug. “That’s awfully descriptive. Have you been thinking a lot about this?”

She’s met with charged silence. Oh. All of the air in the room seems to dissolve, the darkness lapping at his windows more menacing than soothing. If they were the last two souls left on Earth it wouldn’t matter that she’s a Soul Eater - hell, she wouldn’t be ready to sacrifice anything and everything to be a Lotus Eater instead, carefree and effervescent.

“Hey Maka?”

“Hmmm?”

“Thanks for the birthday song… it means a lot. I love you, you know that, right?”

Her blood runs cold. This isn’t her Soul - he’d never go all mushy on her like this without following it up with a well-intended tease or cheeky remark about the width of her ankles. He sounds so vulnerable, so honest, so available; this wasn’t how she wanted it to happen. Maka opens her eyes wide, wide, wide but can’t see anything but the dark outline of his figure next to hers.

Between wondering if she’ll ever stop being afraid of the dark, and feeling like she’s lost him in the process of keeping him, she closes her eyes and prays she falls asleep before it gets worse.

“I know. I love you too, Soul...”

#soulxmaka #soul x maka #soul eater evans #maka albarn #soul eater #redphlox writes #i just - love writing trash

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