#i hardly ever see any of this au anymore :0

[zh-lele]

TOO FAST (m)

▪︎Pairing: Mark Lee x female reader

▪︎Genres: angst, romance, street racing au, friends with benefits trope

▪︎Warnings: graphic descriptions and mentions of death, blood, violence, drug use, and depression; profanity; sexual and suggestive content. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Contains spoilers of previous parts of the series.

▪︎Word count: 12.6k words

playlist | Pictures taken by Taeyong | Drifting series

Hi everyone! New installment of my Drifting series is up :) This is Mark's part and happens right after Haechan's story, so it's filled with spoilers (if you haven't read that one yet.) I don't really think you need to read Haechan's part to understand what happens around here, but if you want, please go check 'We ridin'' that's also liked in my masterlist. Also, this fic is pretty graphic so please read warnings and don´t proceed if you feel uncomfy with any of the themes treated here. Without much more to say, I hope you enjoy this story!

0. That's a pretty big trunk on my Lincoln Town Car, ain't it?

No matter how much weight he pulls off of his car, Mark can't get to drive freely around anymore. The backseats are gone, and the truck is empty before he starts the race. And you are waiting for him at the end of the road when he makes it first to the finish line, a big smile plastered on your face while looking at him. Everybody quickly starts cheering for him and throwing money to his face. And he tries hard. He tries so hard to enjoy it and be happy behind the steering wheel like he used to do, but he can't find to be able to.

Don't they see it too?

The car's trunk filled with bodies like a Hearse. The steering wheel bleeding, painting Mark's shaky hands in red. His swollen eyes wet with tears. All those scattered pieces on the pavement… And he can never get rid of the weight because he is the one carrying all that heaviness that won't let him breathe, no matter how empty he wants to leave the car.

He rubs his face up and down in frustration, mixing the blood and the tears until he turns, looking back at the destroyed vehicle. Hanging off the open trunk it's his head, open and misshapen, covered in blood, exactly as Mark had last seen him. It feels like a nightmare. He prays and begs to God for it to be a nightmare, please let it be a nightmare.

Your smile dissipates as soon as you lock eyes with him. Mark blinks once to let the tears roll down his cheeks and wet your hands that cup his face. When he realizes it wasn't a nightmare but a distorted memory of reality, the uncontrollably sobs come. So you hold him in your arms in the middle of messy bed sheets, trying to deal with the melancholy of another sleepless night taking care of your hurt best friend.

Mark's memories haunt him. Ever since the accident happened, you're sure he hasn't got a full night of sleep, and you hardly remember the last time you did. If he's not racing or partying until the sun comes out early in the morning, he's constantly trying to fall asleep and repeatedly being awakened by these nightmares, these horrible memories being manifested in his dreams, and getting scared by only closing his eyes in the dark.

The yellow light on the old nightstand illuminates very dimly the small hotel room where Mark has been living for the last time, and where you have found yourself returning more often than usual. Everything is messy and dirty. Mark's clothes sit piled up in a mountain on a chair in the corner of the room, and the tabletop cannot be seen due to the number of boxes and empty fast food packages left behind, not being cleaned for months now. To your left, the nightstand is littered with boxes of twenty Marlboro cigarettes, empty as well; broken lighters, and a dirty glass pipe with traces of a substance you haven't quite figured out yet and are afraid to do so.

Your best friend won't talk much to you despite having you coming back to his bed every night, but you don't need that to believe he's depressed.

You remember how it started. How you got yourself into the same hole.

—

Inside the small apartment the air felt thick and humid. The dim colored lights coming from the speaker did a poor job of outlining a tall silhouette in front of you. Your body was sweaty, your feet ached from standing for so many hours, and your heart beat faster than normal. Maybe it was tiredness. Maybe it was because of the sound vibrations of fast electronic music resonating with the movement of your heart muscle. Or maybe it was because of the joint that Yuta left between your fingers after exhaling all the smoke in your face, and you didn't hesitate to repeat his actions.

You couldn't wait to leave. You also couldn't allow yourself to touch any kind of surface because you knew that as soon as you leaned against a wall or an armchair, you wouldn't be able to get up again. It might not have been the smartest decision at the time to grab the glass of vodka Yuta was holding in his hands and finish it in one gulp, but you would have done anything to make the time go by faster.

And it worked, actually. It's hard to even remember the kind of music that started playing after that moment. What you remember exactly, however, something you can't erase from your memories of that night is what Mark looked like.

The color in his electric blue hair had already begun to fade, and his bangs clung to his forehead from all the humidity. Even with his unkempt appearance and the sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up to his shoulders, revealing toned arms that glistened under a fine sheen of sweat. None of it took away from his undeniable appeal. None of that mess was meant to make you walk away from him and forget how he felt that night. Like being drunk on Mark. As if all your senses were reduced to perceiving him, and only him. When did he even appear on your side?

"You're all wet."

"It's from all the dancing," Mark said, moving his face away from yours, just enough to keep supporting your waist with one hand, and wipe the sweat that had transferred from his cheek to yours with the other.

His closeness allowed you to perceive the smell of alcohol and cigarettes that emanated from his body. Firm muscles under his clothes that you couldn't have failed to notice all night, couldn't help but feel at that moment under your touch. An innocent enough tact, with intentions to keep dancing to whatever was playing. He couldn't know how much you liked him. You were best friends for fuck's sake. And no matter how many times you imagined it, there would never be another reality where you could be more than best friends. Furthermore, you were both too intoxicated to cross the line and then be able to return to your comfort zone. You knew you wouldn't be able to come back once you allowed yourself to get to know Mark in any other way.

"You know what's missing tonight?"

Mark had won the race that night. Five grand that were going straight to his wallet and his pride. That had Yuta celebrating and patting at Mark's back when he made it out of the car with a smile on his face to wrap him in a tight hug. A victory that would give Mark a moment of reassurance, that would distract him only for a second from all the horrible things that were actually going on in his life.

Despite all fears of ending up alone and punished by all his friends, life showed Mark everyday that he was wrong. Yuta chose to keep in contact with him even after the accident and after Johnny got mad at Mark. You were still around him too. And he was still a successful street racer that made thousands per night and allowed himself to have fun with a bunch of pretty girls. So yeah, you would've never guessed the words that came out of Mark Lee's mouth after that. You would've never imagined that what that night was missing was–

"A kiss from you," he answered himself, letting out a heavy breath and leaning dead-weight on you. "Just one kiss?"

That simple line was all it took to take your breath away. He was that powerful, and you kind of hated yourself for allowing him. You thanked in silence for the lack of lights in the living room, because your temperature rising and getting your face all red would've given you away.

"I don't know." You were honest with him. It was kind of ironic inside of your head, how much you wanted him yet you couldn't decide if you wanted to act on that desire. There were pros and cons.

On one hand, you would've done anything for Mark to feel better, to let him out of that dark void you saw him getting in, deeper every day. Anything for him. On the other hand, you knew how the story goes, from your friends and because you saw it in enough movies; casualty never works when there's feelings involved. You didn't have to experience it to know it wouldn't mean just a drunken kiss to you, just a little fun. It was gonna end up hurting, dragging you in like a cult, a bad religion.

It felt like years, the time you were thinking about what to say to him. "I really don't know."

"C'mon," he was persistent, getting his head off the crook of your neck and staring right into your eyes, then dropped the sight to your lips. And he left it there while he kept mumbling. "One lil' kiss."

How many things could ruin a silly, drunken kiss between friends at a party?

Your eyes met Yuta for a brief moment, before you saw him raise his eyebrows at you, an expression that said 'Are you really doing this?' on his face, and then saw him leave the room.

The thing is, you had liked Yuta since the very first moment you saw him and had been fooling around ever since. He's a true gentleman. He's fun to be around but centered enough to give you all the calmness you might need at the end of a stressful day. He's good enough to give you some of the best fucks of your life as well. He has a good job, no bad habits, and he gives you enough space. Anyone could say Yuta is the perfect candidate. If Mark wouldn't even look at you but happened that Yuta proposed to you, you would probably agree to be his girlfriend in a second.

You wanted to tell Mark no. You truly wanted to be faithful to whatever you had with Yuta. But you had loved Mark since forever. And that was different.

Now you believe you would've never had to accept that kiss from Mark Lee that night because, spoiler: after one kiss, you weren't able to stop.

So it happened one, two, three, four, five, countless times until you finally found the solution to Mark's sleeping situation. Sometimes it required a lot of alcohol, sometimes it required him to have something to smoke. But what never changed was that it had to start with a kiss and follow with a lot of your attention. It always ended with you and him, skin to skin to his bed sheets. He gets a night's full sleep, and you usually get a headache from all the overthinking.

—

When you feel that his breathing has become heavy again and his grip around your torso loosens, you confirm that Mark has gone back to sleep. The clock on the wall above the window reads 05:02 in the morning, and if Mark doesn't have another nightmare in the next hour, he may be able to sleep until the sun comes up.

Carefully and almost moving in slow motion, you slip from his grasp to get up from the bed. Your friend has been feeling exhausted for months now, and no matter how many hours he sleeps, he never manages to recover. That's what he tells you all the time: that he's exhausted from being exhausted, from wanting to rest and not being able to.  So when you finally get him to drift off to sleep, the last thing you want is to wake him up.

You grab your pillow and place it filling the space that your body occupied between his arms, so he doesn't feel alone. You're not going anywhere but to sit on the dirty old couch in the next room. Mark's room and the space functioning as the entrance to the motel room are only separated by a thin wall of wood and plaster, and a curtain. If he happens to wake up again in the next few hours, you will be able to listen to him without any problem and return to him immediately.

When you turn on the yellow light in the gloomy bathroom—which door is broken so you won't even bother trying to close it—, the scene at the entrance lights up and you spot the figure laying on the couch. You wait for the glass to fill with water to turn off the tap in the sink and turn off the light, plunging the room into darkness again. The water runs hot and is of little help in quenching your thirst, but that's all you have for now until the convenience store near the motel opens.

Despite the darkness, you can see a large pair of eyes watching your every move carefully. He must have woken up because of Mark's nightmare, just like you. Coincidentally, in the small couch there is a space where you know you fit perfectly, so you take it and lie down next to him. The sides of your bodies rub against each other because it's a small couch afterall, and even when you can start to feel the heat of the morning you would like to get closer, snuggle into him, to wrap yourself in his arms and sleep together forever. But you're not going to do anything because Mark is only a curtain away. Also, because you were pretty sure he didn't want you anymore, not after you practically stopped seeing him the moment you started fucking Mark.

"Have you talked to Johnny?"

You turn your head to set your eyes on Yuta, lying on the couch still with all his clothes on, one arm acting as a pillow under his head. His long lashes brush his cheeks every time he blinks, and his chest rises and falls in a calm, controlled breath. Just looking at him gives you all the peace you are missing, making you sleepy. And you want to sleep, oh how you want to sleep for endless hours.

He shakes his head no.

"I feel like… I don't know, Mark really needs him right now."

There is a long silence in which you roll onto your side to keep looking at him. His eyes, now closed, make you think he has fallen asleep until he finally opens his mouth to speak.

"Johnny doesn't want to know anything about Mark." Yuta turns his head to look at you this time. His gaze is soft but holds all the truths you don't like to think of, so you can't do much more than moving your head down with a frown in your brows, and keep listening to him. "What he did to Haechan was stupid, put all of us in danger."

Memories of that night are fresh in your brain for two reasons. The first one, is that you interacted with Yuta for the first time that night, and things just escalated between the two of you from there. The second reason has to do with the fact that, all that happened back then, was Mark's breaking point.

1. You hit them stones and you broke your home

At the center of the closed road, the pavement was already painted with traces of burnt tires forming circular patterns. As the candy-colored cars drifted and slided and had all the people filming and celebrating around them, you really couldn't think of a worse way to waste your tires. It's a passion they seem to have, that you yet have to get to understand. 

You observed Mark work frantically on his car, making you feel like there wasn't enough time. All his movements were too rushed, and his eyes moved around the crowd with a paranoid look. The rest of the team was counting the money, looking for someone to flag, taking the seats out of the car to make it as light as possible, moving the people from the middle of the street. You could already hear some sirens far in the distance, getting closer and closer.

"Mark, hurry up!"

Getting off an orange car with the windows all black, a voice rushed Mark to start the race. He had that spine-chilling look despite his totally relaxed walk, looking like he owned the streets. He was the protagonist of a bunch of stories Mark had told you about his friends. And you knew Mark admired and respected Johnny a lot. But Yuta... Yuta has always been something else to Mark. Something like his weakness, and it showed in the way he talked about him and behaved around him. "I can show you some pics, but you can't like him more than me," was how he always ended conversations about him.

You really tried to listen to your friend. You really tried not to get interested in the handsome guy giving him the last directions before the first race of the night. But you had to know him personally, had to get close to him. You wished it would have been under different circumstances, though.

A few minutes later, everything was ready for the race to start. Mark had to drive a few miles straight down the road, take an impromptu hairpin turn, and be back in front of your eyes safe and sound.

After the accident he got into with his friend Taeyong, everyone thought Mark would be too scared to drive again, at least for a while. But it was the complete opposite; he got  careless and more reckless. Mark was sad and mad, and he used the races as a coping mechanism, among other things.

You, however, were worried and scared for him.

"I don't know why I agreed to come with you," you spoke with your arms crossed as you saw Mark walking towards you. He was wearing a subtle smile, and you could see how his face got rid of all that paranoia as soon as he found your eyes.

He wrapped you in a hug that forced you to uncross your arms to join them behind his head, reciprocating the gesture. "Thank you for coming," Mark told you so only you could hear him, and tightened the grip of his arms around your torso. "But you don't have to stay if you don't like it. I can ask one of the guys to get you home."

You took a look around separating yourself from him, and thought about his offer for a second. Johnny seemed busy dealing with all the bets for that night's race, so you doubted he could take you home. Jaehyun was racing too, so neither him or Mark were gonna drive you. Johnny's sister didn't own a car, so she wasn't an option. The only one who seemed like he wasn't occupied was Yuta, who was looking at the two of you with an unreadable expression, sitting on top of his car hood, probably just waiting for Mark to stop delaying the race.

You kinda, definitely wanted Yuta to take you home, to ride together and maybe chat a little on the way. To finally get to know him—and maybe exchange a kiss or two before you would come out of his car and walk to your door.

But that wasn't happening that night.

"No fucking way."

The crowd went silent. The only sound traveling through the thick summer atmosphere was the sound of the engines. No one needed him to get out of the bright yellow car to know who he was. Nonetheless, he got the audacity to do it.

"Didn't I fucking tell you," Johnny's voice was filled with rage, speaking directly to him, "that I don't want to see you around ever again?"

"I'm gonna fucking kill him." You heard Mark whisper in front of you.

"You're not doing shit." You grabbed Mark's jaw trying to get him to look at you, but his eyes were locked on Haechan. His hands left your waist to become fists at his sides, ready to attack if you weren't holding him back and speaking in his ear, trying to maintain your composure. "If you do anything to him, we're not gonna see the end of it."

But the truth was you wanted to beat him to pieces probably as much as Mark wanted to.

"Just one race!" Haechan got off his car  speaking to Johnny with open arms, palms facing the night sky. "For the old times?"

"But…" Mark rested his eyes on you again, and you could almost see yourself reflected in the accumulation of tears that threatened to fall at any moment. He spoke only for you, "Taeyong is dead because of him."

People went crazy after hearing Haechan ask for a race. Three months had passed since the accident and, since then, neither Haechan nor the Lees had dared to roam the same streets as the Suhs and his friends. Of course, people like watching other people fight, they enjoy the gossip and the problems, so it didn't take long for the crowd to start betting on Haechan as the winner of that night. Johnny had no choice but to get his team to race against the Lees, to remind them again that he didn't want them around, and that it was just a one time thing.

"Listen," Johnny held Mark's face in his hands and spoke directly to his eyes, "you're gonna race and you're gonna make it to the finish line intact. I don't give a fuck about who's winning. I just want you to finish, so he can get the fuck out of here before I lose my mind and rip his face off."

Mark nodded quickly a few times. It was clear he was nervous—from the way he grabbed and squeezed the steering wheel with his hands, and settled back and forth in the seat, impatient for the race to end when it hadn't even started.

"Don't you–" a bit of embarrassment creeped into his voice and cut him half way into the sentence, making him gulp dry before proceeding. "Don't you have something for me? I'm just feeling a little low," he finished asking, his narrowed eyes barely daring to look at his older brother.

Johnny let out a heavy sigh and moved his head to look above Mark's car, into the racing scene, and pondered on it for a moment. Honestly, he never thought he could be the best leader or the best older brother, but he managed to convince himself he was doing pretty fine, until the Donghyuck thing happened. Not that Donghyuck thing, the one that had to do with his sister and later with Taeyong. But the Donghyuck thing that made the big family they all were before break apart, and split into two rival groups. Something happened in that moment that Johnny felt made him fall apart; he lost all that confidence he once had. It only got worse when Donghyuck got with his sister, though, and he took Taeyong with him too, and now he felt like he was losing Mark as well.

Johnny reached into the front pocket of his jeans and held the small bag there for a few seconds, while debating whose fault it was, and thinking about how he could stop ruining his family. Back then, he had no clear answer. He felt like Mark was fucked up enough already. And because he loves him unconditionally, he just did what he thought was best for Mark at the time.

He ended up taking the small bag from his front pocket and tossing it to Mark, who quickly grabbed it with both hands and didn't even thank Johnny before he was closing his tinted windows on his friend's face.

Johnny thought that even if it was the wrong thing to do, he himself would help Mark sober up later, because he couldn't dare lose any more brothers.

You watched the entire exchange from afar.  From Mark positioning himself in line with Jaehyun, Haechan and another boy's cars at his sides, until Johnny and Yuta joined you with the same worried look that your eyes wore.

There was a constricting sensation in your chest, a pressure watching that scene unfold that made your voice tremble. "I have a bad feeling about this." 

You know what they say, that there are friends with whom you live certain things, and friends with whom you are part of other things. Haechan, Mark and you were all good friends once, way back in high school, but after they parted ways you decided not to get involved in their illegal activities. You barely knew this side of Mark's life, most of it since he loved his friends so much and always told you everything about them. He tried to integrate you as much as possible when situations called for it: birthdays, casual meetings at Johnny's garage, and parties. But all that pretty far from the street racing scene, that being the first time he actually invited you to go watch him race after years.

"Don't worry," Johnny said to you at the same time his sister was positioning herself at the middle of the starting line, ready to give them the direction. "They know what they have to do very well.

And as soon as she lowered her arms, the cars sped off, leaving a huge cloud of smoke in front of you that obstructed your view for a few seconds. 

"They will be driving in a straight line for about a kilometer," he continued. "Then they will reach a crossroads and must take the path to the right, we will lose sight of them at that moment."

"But if they do everything right and don't cause any trouble, we'll see them come out of that other corner." Yuta pointed at a corner a few blocks from you with a blinking yellow traffic light while explaining to you. "And someone will make it right here first. The winner."

You assumed that you managed to make him feel your intense gaze on him, and that made his eyes meet yours. His arms crossed while still leaning on the hood of his car. He noticed your nervousness.

"Relax," his voice was soft while speaking to you. A smile adorned his face when he invited you to sit with him, right beside his body on top of the orange hood. "Let's root for our team."

You nodded with your head at him and chose to remain silent. While you waited to see your friend return, you reached in the back pocket of your pants for the small box and the lighter, and lit a cigarette. It was the best thing you could think of to pass the time.

"You're a smokestack."

Your eyes widened hearing that. You didn't take it as an insult, since when you turned around and saw Yuta's face you only found a playful smile. But you still decided to take a long drag on the cigarette, blow out all the smoke, and then ask him in an offended tone.

"Excuse me?"

"You smoke too much," he said nonchalantly, jumping off the car and standing right in front of you.

His eyes traveled from your legs hanging off his hood, to your hand holding the cigarette, to your chest and lastly your face in a matter of milliseconds. A quick check out that awakened a whole new rush of adrenaline and nervousness to your body. A stare that only sent shivers down your spine, so you tried to play it cool and straighten your back, wanting to reach the level of his face.

"And how would you know?"

You made an effort not to let the conversation die. Ever since Mark told you about them and showed you photos of his friends, you had wanted to meet Yuta. Walking across him at Johnny's house or at random parties had never been enough. Firstly, because Yuta was rarely alone. And secondly, because when he was alone you would never have thought of being the first to approach him and talk to him.

Because you weren't expecting it from Yuta—the only friend of Mark that was quiet and mysterious enough that you had never struck up a conversation with—it took you a couple of seconds to process the words that came out of his mouth.

"I've been watching you." Yuta took your hand that was holding the cigarette and held it very gently in between his. Enough to notice how yours trembled.

Yuta definitely didn't have to do that to notice how anxious you were. But then you would understand how powerful his energy is and how physical contact becomes completely necessary and inevitable when he is around. That you didn't even need to say a word for him to notice you were attracted to him—you were painfully obvious around Yuta. It became ridiculous the way you lost yourself watching him talk and just mind his business. Yuta loved every second of it.

He would finally return all that attention to you later.

"You may fancy me." He took the cigarette off your hand and took a puff. "But you really, really love Mark."

You sighed deeply and looked down as you felt the heat rise and tint your cheeks. You didn't dare look at him when you spoke again. "I'm seriously that obvious?"

Yuta muttered positively and you could hear him smiling. That attractive teasing smile he always wore but paired with the softest looking eyes, that you knew could mean no harm.

"The problem is… I like Mark."

You couldn't help but laugh when you heard him, since you definitely weren't expecting that outcome. He only smiled while seeing you laugh.

"But he won't pay enough attention to me," he continued with a shrug. "So I thought, maybe you wanna do something with me after this?"

"So, I'm the second choice," you established, crossing your arms and putting on a straight face.

Yuta shook his head, still wearing his little attractive smile. "No, I was just joking," he reassured you. "I think you're interesting, and you're hot, so I wanna know you."

The cigarette came back to your hands right before Yuta was blowing all the smoke he had inhaled on your face. He was being pretty clear, you had no doubt at that point.

So you filled yourself up with a little courage, smiled big, took a puff of that nicotine and said, "Alright, we're going to mine."

"Sounds lovely."

Is the unexpected screeching of tires locking up what deafens your ears, bringing you and Yuta out of your little bubble to find another cloud of smoke blocking your view. Only seconds pass after the smoke clears into the air, and Mark's car comes to rest in line with Haechan's, giving your friend second place in the race.

It all happened way too quickly. One moment Mark was getting out of his car, violently closing its door and getting every person out of his way. The next moment he was above Haechan's body on the street, beating the life out of him.

Mark seemed uncontrollable, out of his mind. It took not only Johnny and Yuta to separate him from Haechan's bleeding face, but Jaehyun had to get out of his car and intervene as well. It was him trying to restrain Haechan's friends from coming and beating Mark, while Johnny's sister cried and screamed besides her lover, who wore that typical wicked, cynical smile on his bloody-dripping mouth. It was absolute chaos.

"I'm going to kill you! I swear to God, you won't mess with any of my friends ever again because I'll fucking kill you!"

After a lot of struggling and missed punches (that almost ended in yours and the boys' faces) coming from an extremely euphoric Mark, they managed to lock him in the back seat of Yuta's car. Johnny ordered Yuta to take him away, and that he didn't want to see his face in the neighborhood until the situation calmed down. It was a little cruel, the way he kicked Mark out of the house they shared, but you understood. Mark was still too hurt and resentful of Taeyong's death, but Johnny knew that trying to get revenge on the Lees would only start an endless war. Or maybe cause an ending that would badly hurt them again, and Johnny was tired of losing brothers.

A tall boy with a thin face and raven hair pointed to Mark, and that same index finger he rested on the skin of his neck moved across, from right to left. You're dead, but Mark wouldn't listen to it, still sitting in the back seat of the car.

"Jeno, let's leave this shitty place," Haechan said once he was back on his feet, blood spitting, staining his shirt and even the ground.

Haechan and his friends (including Johnny's sister) left with a promise to come back for them.

Johnny was on his right to get extremely mad at Mark. Because that was the exact reason he didn't do anything to Haechan in the first place, that one night he had him at gunpoint in the rain. He could've ended him right there, but he knew what would've come. And that was the difference between the Lees and the Suhs: Johnny cared for his people—because yes, Haechan was his people once, just as Taeyong was when he was alive. He didn't want anyone to get even more hurt.

So now they have to deal with the fear of the Lees coming for them, because they know the gang has become weak. Johnny doesn't have his sister anymore, he doesn't have Taeyong, he doesn't have Mark, and Yuta is barely there because he spends most of the time with you or Mark. And that guilt is eating your best friend alive.

It was dawn by the time you and Yuta tossed an exhausted Mark into the motel bed where he would spend the next few months. While he passed out as soon as he touched the mattress, you came down from the adrenaline rush in the form of shaking and crying.

That same night you brought Mark to the motel, after you put him to sleep, Yuta and you drank and smoked until you calmed down and then made out until any of you had energy to go on. You liked him and wanted everything with him. But Yuta was a very patient and understanding person. He made that clear from the very first moment you met properly.

You may fancy me, but you love Mark.

And yes, maybe fucking around with Yuta was fun from time to time, until that guilt started eating you alive.

Now you look at Yuta, laying on the motel couch centimeters from you, yet he feels like he's miles away. You think you miss him, his security and the sense of stability you had when you were with him. These days he comes to check on Mark, make sure you're both not starving, maybe share a beer or a cigarette with you, and he leaves. He still does all that even after you dropped him to fuck your best friend, that is one of his best friends too.

But when Yuta leaves you're back to your miserable hole, praying that Mark won't die from an overdose tonight, or that won't leave and come back hours later with some other girl, kicking you out so he can fuck because he's suddenly tired of the routine, then calling you at ungodly hours because he can't sleep without you.

The japanese boy calls your name. A fine film of sweat covers his smooth skin and is visible in the dim light of dawn, which filters through the hideous lace curtains. His eyes tell you that he's about to reveal that truth that you don't want to hear, but he's going to be brutally honest anyway.

"You need to get out of here."

2. I'm talking fear, fear of missing out on you and me/I don't think I could find a way to make it on this earth

Mark had always been very careful. The most careful of all, in fact—not just when it came to racing, but in every aspect of his life.  When he drove, when he served customers in Johnny's garage, when he would go out with the boys and have to take care of a drunk Taeyong, he was the most careful. You know he was always very careful in the way he treated girls too, because Mark did everything with love.

It isn't fair what happened to him. It made him start doing things with fear. Fear of missing out on things, fear of losing, fear of hurting people, fear of God. You can taste the fear in him, because lately everytime you connect your lips it feels like he's kissing you for the last time ever.

He holds your face and steals a long, soft kiss from your lips. Eyes squeezed shut while he deepens it and gets his tongue to explore inside your mouth. None of it is rushed nor violent, in contrast with how he usually ends up fucking you. And you like this side of Mark, the one that kinda feels like he's doing it to you with love instead of fear, but you know you can't get too attached to it.

Or at least more attached than you already are.

Mark moves his hands from your face to your back, and caresses the skin there for a moment, before hugging the middle of your torso and pushing you flush against his. Your naked breasts collide with his equally naked chest, and his skin burns yours. He's restricting you from moving now, so he angles his hips pressing his feet on the mattress and starts thrusting up into you. It's a gentle pace, but all the alcohol and the weed in your system only make you feel him ten times intensified, ten times deeper. You tug on his long hair, bite and suck on his neck trying to contain all the sounds that want to escape from your mouth, yet the pleasure is too much and more than one manages to slip and mix with Mark's whines.

You're kinda embarrassed when you come after what feels like only five minutes that passed since you sat on top of Mark.

He feels you clench and become tight around him, so he stops his movements for a moment until you catch your breath. You know he's not done with you, just trying not to hurt you from the overstimulation. After one intense orgasm heavily loaded with feelings, you're exhausted. But this has always been about him. You need to make sure he will go back to sleeping peacefully. So you get off him and lay beside his body, before Mark takes position between your legs and buries himself inside you one more time.

He doesn't need to do much, doesn't need to say anything at all. You and him have gotten to explore each other's bodies for months now, you both know damn well that you're gonna come again, and after that you're gonna let him finish making a mess all over you.

What Mark would've never expected was seeing those thick tears run down your face, that you quickly tried to swipe off before he could ask anything about it. Even if sometimes it doesn't show, Mark loves and cares for you, so he's gonna ask anyway.

"Love," he calls for you and stops his movements. You open your eyes, lashes feeling heavy with the weight of the tears on them, and see his worried face right on top of yours. His hair is messy, his neck sweats and a silver necklace with a couple of charms hangs from it, somehow making Mark look even more attractive than usual. "I didn't hurt you, right?" A deep frown takes over his features.

You feel bad for ruining such a moment like this. You answer, shaking your head no.

"Please tell me the truth."

You shake your head no once again, wrapping your arms around him to tug and make him collapse his weight on you.

Love. The pet name replays in your head like a scratched CD and you wish you could turn it off to finally go to sleep. Mark calls your name and props himself up in his arms to look at you. He's still waiting for an explicit reply to his question.

How could you tell him that you were crying because you never felt so much love for someone in your entire life, without scaring him away? How could you explain to him that you understand it was all in your head, because you know he is too broken to even love to that same extent?

"I'm fine," you finally tell him and grab his face to give his lips one last, deep kiss. "Crying 'cause it's too good."

He shows a subtle smile and makes an effort to observe how the morning light illuminates your skin, with his eyes full of sleep, drunk on alcohol and your body and barely open. It's an image he wants to remember because, for some reason, it also feels to him like it could be the last time he gets to be with you like this.

"You sure?"

You nod and smile subtly in response, and move his fingers to make him touch you, in hope you can overcome the pain of loving too hard with the pleasure.

"Wanna give me one more?" His lips get your neck and collarbones all wet while he works on bringing you to the edge. His name manages to come out of your mouth in between gasps. "The last one?"

After both of you finally finish, Mark collapses on your side, half of his body still curled up to you, and calls your name softly. You hear his voice getting filled with fatigue.

"Mhm?"

"Thank you," he says in a whisper. Next thing you know, his breathing has become heavy again and his little snores can be heard in the silent motel room.

The story repeats itself, and you curse yourself and despair for not being able to even shut your eyes closed when you're exhausted. You're overthinking again. Hours go by with barely a couple of hours of sleep, and soon you have to get up to leave food ready for Mark and continue with your life outside these four walls.

3. Permission to crash, collecting damages, boy

The metal stairs creak under your shoes as you go up to the motel room, carefully not to slip because of the night's drizzle. The walk to the room where Mark has been staying feels longer than usual, maybe because you're extremely tired, and don't even remember the last time you got to sleep for an entire night by now, always interrupted by something—if it isn't because of Mark's nightmares, it's because you're either out with him and friends or catching up with missed work instead of sleeping. You can't wait to make it through his door, find him sleeping (with a little luck) and pass out on his bed beside him.

That old clock hanging on the wall indicates 10:27 p.m.. Inside, the room is extremely quiet. If it weren't for the mess around every surface, and the image of Mark's legs knocked out on the bed that you can perceive through a thin curtain separating the bedroom and the common area, you would believe the space is completely empty, abandoned.

The small table that Mark uses to eat is almost imperceptible for all the garbage that has accumulated there. Empty beer bottles, packs with leftover food, cigarettes, dirty napkins, his car keys and even some clothes cover the surface. You wonder how Mark continues to use the table when you're not there, or if he's just using it to leave stuff .

The delivery bags will serve to collect all the waste and clean up the environment a bit. Your friend has been going through a difficult time for a while now, and of course it's hard for him to do simple tasks like keeping the place where he lives clean and tidy. You don't even think about it much when you propose yourself to give him a helping hand while he sleeps; throwing everything that seems useless and dirty into the bags, and leaving it in the bins on the street. You hope Mark will feel more uplifted when he wakes up, finding himself in a slightly nicer, more livable place.

He's in a deep sleep leaning on his side, and watching him breaks your heart. You like it when Mark sleeps naturally. Even when he passes out from being extremely exhausted, you prefer it instead of when he goes to sleep after injecting that destructive drug right into his veins. On his bedside table is the glass syringe, the lighter, the aluminum foil. On the floor, in the space between the rickety bed and the little table, a plate with lines of half-consumed cocaine and the belt of his pants.

He doesn't even care enough to hide it anymore. It breaks your heart some more.

In an impulsive act, you grab whatever is there that has been destroying him, Yuta and you. Everything that has been making life difficult for everyone, ever since Taeyong left, since Johnny kicked Mark out, and your friend fell even harder into that pit.

You flush it down the toilet. Tears run down your cheeks, and the sound of the water taking everything down the drain mixes with your sobs. At the same time, the lights from the garbage truck outside the motel come in through the bedroom window, blinding your view a bit. Nothing is left.

With shaky hands, you open the window and light up a cigarette, in hope of calming down a little. Every day that passes is becoming harder to understand how you made it this far. You can't imagine how worse it could be if you weren't there for him, or if Yuta wasn't with Mark too.

One cigarette is consumed after another, until the ashtray is almost full and you stop because your chest starts to hurt. Mark's voice is present in the room; he calls your name dragging it full of confusion.

Here begins the story of how everything you two once were ended in a few minutes, too fast. Or perhaps the fall was anticipated, but no one knew how to cushion it.

"What happened here?" he asks hoarsely, clearly struggling to fully open his eyes, despite the place being subtly illuminated by the street lights peeking through the windows.

"Just did a little cleaning," you answer, letting the smoke out of your lungs. You said to yourself it would be the last one of the night, but something about the situation is making you slightly anxious.

Mark only nods in response and keeps turning around in his place, taking everything in. He ruffles his head in a poor attempt at fixing the bed hair, scratches the back of neck down to his arm. It's nerve-wracking—seeing him act so natural after having passed out for you don't know how many hours, at the risk of overdosing and dying alone, choking on his own vomit.

It fills you with rage inside how inconsiderate he's been lately, but you're exhausted and don't plan on fighting tonight.

"You coming back to bed?" 

"No, sorry," he says when you're already on your way to the bedroom. The clarity in his voice tone indicates to you he's wide awake now. "I have a race in like an hour or so."

You sit on his side of the bed to finally take your shoes off and start undressing. A heavy sigh unconsciously escapes you, and you have to ask him. You've been thinking for a couple weeks now that it would be good for him if he just left the racing scene, only for a while until he fully recovers from all the pain he's gone through. If it all started with it, the answer should be there too, ending it.

"Why do you do that?" You watch his figure enter the room. "Why do you keep racing?" Your questions come out a little exasperated, the tiredness getting the worst out of you even when you don't mean to sound rude.

"Why do I keep racing? How do you think I'm paying for the fucking expenses right here?"

His tone disorients you for a moment, making you believe that your question may, in fact, have been inappropriate. "Sorry, I just- I just thought you could get a job that makes you feel a little more normal, you know?" you propose, almost as if you're afraid of how he might react. "Give you a routine, make you feel better."

"No," he answers quickly, shaking his head low. "Racing is the only thing that makes me feel alive right now. That, and"– he doesn't finish his sentence. Instead, he gulps dryly and keeps his thoughts only for himself.

You know it's better not to push it. Because he's not good with words, and because you don't think you're capable of dealing with whatever other emotions Mark could be going through right now.

You love Mark endlessly. You're sure the only thing that's wrong right now is that work drained you. You could have this conversation in the morning.

"And you? Why do you do it?" he decides to ask without looking you in the eye.

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you keep playing with Yuta and me at the same time?"

The question makes your heart stop and your stomach turn, but you try not to show it.

"That's seriously the last thing I needed to hear today."

You finish saying the sentence and move to the bathroom to quickly brush your teeth, ignoring the eyes of Mark following you from his spot in the bedroom. Too familiar with his look on you only wearing your underwear. Too used to Mark's bad mood after putting substances into his body until he falls unconscious. Too guilty because, in fact, you've been feeling confused about the two boys.

"I know you like him. I– I can feel it. I saw you laying so close early, saw the way you looked at him."

It makes your head hurt, and you squeeze your eyes shut trying to, somehow, ease the pain away. Yes, of course there has always been something about Yuta. Something about the calmness and security you feel when you're together. Something about the love you see he has for Mark that you wish someone had for you. Something about his kisses and touches and the look in his eyes that feel safe. Because Mark was your best friend once, your unconditional support; you were each other's until you weren't anymore. You just started to take care of him and to fall for him harder, and harder. You only became his while you lost him and he lost himself in the process. But Yuta somehow was there to make it easier for you, and numb a little part of the pain away.

You still love Mark endlessly, but he's not good for you. You don't love Yuta, but he feels like the right one for you. And you know their brotherhood might come before your friendship—with any of them. You can't ruin that for them only because you can't decide between the two boys.

It's always been easier to ignore all that.

"Can we just– not have this conversation?"

"Are you fucking him too?"

"I'm not." You look up to him as you accommodate yourself on the bed once again, rage filling your insides for the second time that night. "And what the fuck do you care, huh? The fuck do you care about me?"

"I care because I thought you were with me?" he asks, a tone of disbelief in his voice.

"Mark, we never agreed on being exclusive. We didn't even talk this out. We just started fucking because you were too fucking selfish and couldn't even notice what actually happens here"– you get interrupted by him calling your name.

His eyes are fixed on the nightstand that you emptied while he was passed out. And you swallow dryly, afraid to say a word. You can't imagine what he's going to say to you but, from his look, you can be sure it's not nice at all.

"You did a little cleaning," he repeats.

The room stays quiet. Mark starts looking for something around the nightstand—over it, behind it, under the little furniture and in the space around it. Frantically. And calls your name again. This time his voice is shaky, and when he looks at you he's at the verge of tearing up.

You imagined throwing all his drugs away would be hard for him. A risky move. All kinds of reactions were expected.

"Where is Taeyong's necklace?"

"Huh?" discomposure shows in your tone.

"Taeyong's necklace! It was right here, on the nightstand."

You remain quiet while observing him starting to look around the entire motel room. His body has got all tensed up and began shaking in consequence. He empties the drawers, the bags with his clothes, takes the bedsheets off, makes you move to turn the bed and the pillows upside down and checks inside the bathroom too. There's only curses coming out of his mouth and his voice breaks more and more, starting to sob like a little kid in front of your eyes when he realizes the object he's looking for is nowhere around.

He yells your name to get your attention but it only scares you even more. You're terrified of telling him, because you know you've really screwed up this time.

Meeting his teary eyes, yours fill with tears too.

"Mark," you call for him but he's already looking at you, waiting for an explanation.

You remember it now. It had been standing over the little table since you got here for the first time, but you never paid much mind to it—a silver chain that ended in a small cross and a rose, Chrome Hearts style. And that was Taeyong's favorite brand. Mark rarely wears jewelry, yet you have a vague memory of it hanging off his neck the last time you were together. It takes you a second to put two and two together; your heart finally ends up breaking into two pieces.

"I'm sorry." The tears reach your chin. "I took all the trash out."

Mark follows your finger pointing to the window, from which you can see the large garbage containers on the side of the street. Then he turns his head to the left, in the direction of the clock that reads almost twelve at night. He knows that the truck comes around eleven at night to collect all the bags, and he almost always misses it because he's sleeping and ends up accumulating all the trash in the room. Both you and him know everything is gone by the time, including Mark's memory of Taeyong.

He breaks into a desperate cry, which pierces the air and makes your ears and chest ache with his grief. It's so full of anguish, like you've never seen him before, not even when you were burying his friend together.

It takes him to the ground and makes him roll and move, tug at his clothes and his hair violently like he's trying to take the pain off his body, trying to escape the misery. You try to reach out to him to try and comfort him, still a bit in shock since you were the one that caused him this pain. But he doesn't want you near him; he lets you know by slapping you away from his body and throwing everything he finds around him in your direction.

So you step back, clearly afraid he might hurt you in this state. Mark can sense the fear, and the last thing he wants in the world is to hurt you and put you away from him too. Losing you like it happened with his childhood best friend Donghyuck, like it happened with Taeyong, like it happened with Johnny. But he can't tell you. Nothing can come out of his mouth more than those uncontrollably sobs and screams of pain. He can't clear his mind right now.

"I'm sorry," you keep saying while you get dressed and start picking up your things in a rush. "I'm sorry, please forgive me."

He's sitting on the floor, legs curled up to his chest, back to the end of the bed while his arms hang limb to his sides, defeated and body drained from all its energy. His entire face is wet with sweat and tears, and he cries looking at the dirty ceiling.

When you've already left and find yourself in the open corridor, a few room's down from Mark's, guilt washes over your body: you too left him alone, just like you know he's scared of. You manage to take your phone out of your pocket and dial the first number on your recents list with shaky hands.

The need to cry only increases when you hear his voice on the other side of the phone.

"Can you please come by Mark's? Please?" You cover your mouth with one hand trying to hold back the sobs. "I can't deal with this anymore, Yuta. I'm sorry. It's–Mark and I are never gonna work out. It's out of control–"

"Take your car and come home," his voice is soft and calm, despite the rushing sounds in the background. You know he's dropping everything to go where Mark is staying. "Come home and wait for me here, no matter how long it takes."

You nod in response, even when Yuta can't see you through the call.

"And don't worry about Mark, I got him."

4. Gotta let you go/Since you've been gone I've been having withdrawal

The dead had to be visited when they were alive, was what your mother used to say when you were little. The cemetery was never a place that she liked very much, for she never took you to visit and leave flowers for your old, dead uncles and grandparents.

You believe your mother's rejection of the dead had to do with the fear of death itself. The refusal to accept the inevitable: we will all end up right here one day. Under different circumstances, ones having lived longer than others, but dead at last. Even though you believed you had no problem accepting this, entering the place on this spring morning was becoming incredibly difficult. While it's normal to have grandparents dead when you grow up, it never feels normal to lose someone so close to your age.

You can't expect to meet anyone in particular, but you know that at least the vast majority of his friends will be there. It's the anniversary of Taeyong's death, and the morning is fresh. The sun is shining and the roses planted in the park have bloomed, as if they knew they were his favorites. This should be reason enough to walk through the gates and go lay out some flowers for him, as a way of saying thank you for such a splendid day.

The walk up to the place is quiet enough to boggle your mind a bit. The last couple of months you've been working on yourself, trying to stop overthinking things and rebuilding your self-esteem little by little. Mark and you haven't seen each other again after that big fight and after you left the place he was staying. Yuta did God's work that night, and you know Johnny and the rest of the guys helped him the following days—and months. You just stayed out of it. No one really wanted it, no one agreed to it. But it naturally happened, because deep down both of you knew it was the best outcome. Mark understood you had to go away in order for both of you to heal.

It wasn't an easy process.

"Am I a bad person for doing this to him?"

"Well, it's hard to tell what's good or bad, because it depends on who's saying it," the therapist replied.

You looked down as soon as he started talking to you, avoiding his eyes. You remember that you thought you were not going to cry in your first session, that it was going to be difficult to let go and talk about everything that had been hurting you lately. However, as soon as you sat down on his couch, tears began to roll down your cheeks.

"But how do your decisions make you feel?"

"I feel selfish."

It took you a while to learn that looking after yourself wasn't a selfish thing to do, but a completely valid way to maintain your sanity. That you needed to set boundaries with the people you love the most, because even they might hurt you, and because you might end up hurting yourself. It doesn't necessarily mean they are bad people that want to cause you pain, but humans that make mistakes and that are constantly learning how to deal with each other.

Pain is needed. Boundaries are needed. Communication is needed. Self-love is needed. We learn some of the most valuable things of life from all that.

Johnny is the first one to see you arrive. He receives you in silence, with a small smile and a hug. The next to repeat his actions is Jaehyun. Finally, Yuta presses you against his torso and you stay like that for a little longer. The soft skin of his arms envelops you; it's warm and he feels just as safe as you remember. His scent is an odd combination of cotton softener, a manly scent of pine, and cigarettes.

You will be the most grateful to Yuta, forever. He knew where you belonged from the beginning, and helped you clarify your mind to come here and speak to Mark. Not expecting anything, but knowing that whatever would result from that talk should be the best for the two of you.

You can perceive his heart is beating fast, but definitely not as fast as yours when Yuta breaks the hug, looks into your eyes and then to Mark, who is still sitting in front of Taeyong's grave and oblivious to everything that is happening behind him.

The concrete of the bench feels considerably cold compared to the rest of the environment when you sit next to him. There's a moment when you just dedicate yourself to reading Taeyong's name, over and over again on the plate.

It hasn't been easy and it will never be. It makes you rethink things. Decisions, habits, vices, relations. Coming to terms with the death of someone so close to your age. It could be any of you at any moment, so you guess your mother was right: spend time with your loved ones as much as you can while they're alive.

Mark's eyes grow heavy on your profile and you are forced to meet them. He definitely looks healthier. He has recovered some weight, his dark circles have almost completely disappeared, and his hair is back to its natural color, sporting a fresh undercut.

Most impressive, however, is the way he smiles at you and proceeds to lay his head on your shoulder. He lets out a sigh and somehow you feel relieved—he's not mad at you. In fact, he seems to feel fine, comfortable enough to approach you like that. You can't help but let out a deep sigh as well.

He's the first one to talk since you arrived.

"Hi."

"Hi," you reply, almost in a whisper. As if you were to raise your voice, all that harmony would dissipate in an instant.

"I wasn't expecting you." You feel Mark's voice vibrate through your body and reach your ears. It sends a shiver down your spine.

You have missed him so much. The past months have truly been a torture, but you didnt realize how much you needed to feel him this close, to listen to his voice, until this very moment.

"I was hesitant to come."

Mark lifts his head from your shoulder and stares at you for what seems like a minute or two. In a profound way, as if he was looking for something in your eyes, but as if he was gathering the courage to open his mouth and break your heart once and for all, giving this story a true closure. Perhaps about to do what should have happened a long time ago.

He just nods and says, "I'm sorry."

And you wait for it to come. For him to tell you that he's fully recovered now, that he doesn't need you, that you can go and live your life freely with whoever you want and that he will do the same.

"You know that night… The night we had the fight."

"Yes?"

"I said racing was the only thing making me feel alive."

You don't remember it so clearly at first. That night was quite traumatic, so you have to recapitulate and swallow the lump that forms in your throat remembering the events, and how everything about your relationship with Mark exploded in your face.

"I lied," he continues after a pause. "It was being with you. And I was afraid of hurting you and losing you, and I didn't want to lose you because you were the most important thing I had. But that's what ended up happening and–"

Mark can't finish his sentence, so he takes a deep breath. A cigarette appears between his lips, and it's when he struggles to light it up when you notice how abstained he is and how hard he's fighting it, by the incessant shaking of his hands and his sweating. He lets the smoke out of his lungs looking at the grave, remaining silent until he decides he's calmed down enough.

"I really loved you at that time," Mark says and shares the cigarette with you. "I–I still do. I really, seriously don't need you to take care of me anymore. But I want you to be with me."

He says this last sentence reconnecting with your eyes, looking at you the same way he did earlier, when you expected him to break your heart for good. He turns over his shoulder and looks at the boys one by one, who have been watching your exchange in silence until now.

"All of you," and he finishes.

Johnny pats Mark's shoulder and smiles fondly at him, giving him a little squeeze of comfort. "You'll always have us, no matter what happens."

5. Loving you almost feels like something

"And with this," Johnny starts as he places the last box at the entry of your apartment, "I get closer to being completely free for once."

"Dude," Mark tries and fails to sound upset, "can you not be so happy about me leaving your place? You're making me hurt. Like, you could at least lie about you being sad or missing me."

"But I never lie."

Jaehyun's deep laugh is present next to Johnny and he decides to speak, looking at Mark who is now hung up on you, more and more affectionate with you in front of the boys since you formalized your relationship.

"Baby's leaving the nest. Now it's just you and me, Johnny."

Since Mark was moving in with you and Yuta was leaving for Japan, it only left Jaehyun and Johnny at the Suhs' old house. The oldest was happy, because it meant he wouldn't have other three boys going in and out of the place carelessly every time he tries to bring other people home. Johnny loved the boys enormously, but they were all grown now. Maybe it was time they all found their own place to live and just do whatever they want. Jaehyun, however, seems like has no plans of leaving Johnny alone, at least for a little longer.

"Maybe we should become a married couple."

Johnny questions Jaehyun with his eyes for a couple seconds, but after what seemed like the gears of his brain working at full speed, he ends up agreeing. "That could be pretty convenient, actually. Would you cook for me?"

"You know I don't cook."

"Then forget about it."

You and Mark watch the exchange from the outside and can't help but laugh, because they're basically acting like an old married couple already.

"Alright guys," Mark claps his hands to get the boys' attention. "Thank you so much for your help, but I'll be kicking you out now to go celebrate with my girl. You know, all that boyfriend and girlfriend stuff…" He accompanied them with gestures, telling them to walk through the front door.

"Yes, we get it Mark," Johnny answered in a mocking tone. "You've got a girlfriend and you're fucking on every surface of this apartment. And I'm leaving with Jae, and we're getting stoned and going to sleep at seven. So much fun."

"Fuck you, John. Mark, work tomorrow, seven in the morning." Is all Jaehyun says as he leaves your apartment, only to keep bickering with Johnny all the way to the car.

As the afternoon sun falls and filters through the balcony door, the aroma of onion and tomatoes fills the small kitchen and your nostrils, making your stomach rumble a little. The melody of a guitar reaches your ears; it sounds soft and melancholic, the scratching of the fingers against the strings only gives it a rawer tone. You decide to leave the sauce finishing simmering, and you approach the room that you will now be sharing with Mark. You find him sitting there, on the bed, guitar in hand, facing the window with his back to the door. His subtle singing accompanies the chords on the guitar.

You can't remember when was the last time you saw Mark like this. So calm and relaxed. Music has always been his passion, ever since you met him in high school, so seeing him take up the hobby he loves so much and enjoy it brings tears to your eyes.

The words that come out of his mouth form a lump in your throat.

When no ones around me, you lost and found me

I was surrounded

With open arms

He keeps playing and singing softly, without noticing your presence.

Even though it's only been a couple of hours since you finished moving, he's already made your room a bit of his own. It seems that he has stopped in the middle of the task, that he amused himself with the guitar because most of the boxes of clothes are unpacked, the side of the wardrobe that you freed for him with only a couple of blue jeans and t-shirts in place.

On the night table rests Mark's perfume, an ashtray along with his cigarette box, and a couple of books under it. There are two sets of matching keys besides the table now—you had to make a copy for him, since it's his house too. His shoes are at the front door, and they will remain there every day. And Mark's slippers are on the edge of the bed you'll share, next to an open shoe box that catches your eye.

"What is this?"

Mark turns around to look at your face, then at the film camera and a bunch of developed pictures in your hands. A fond smile takes over his mouth.

"Taeyong was a romantic," he says, coming to stand next to you and starting to inspect the pictures. "You know, when he left we decided to divide the things that were important to Taeyong," Mark kept explaining to you. "We gotta fulfill his dreams, keep him alive that way."

"And what are you doing for Taeyong?"

"I'm dropping everything for love. For a calm and happy life."

The answer takes you by surprise, you can't hide it. The tears that had begun to accumulate since you heard Mark sing on the guitar come to the edge of your eyelids, uncontrollable, and threaten to fall at any moment.

"You know Taeyong loved danger and drama… But he really wanted to settle down with someone at some point," he continues speaking immediately. "And I kept these.

Mark takes all the developed films from your hands and starts looking at them with you. Shortly after, he says, "He loved to document the happy moments.

The pictures show various scenarios and all the boys are in there. In some pics it's just Johnny smiling under the sun, in others it's just Mark and Taeyong on a night's out, in others there's Jaehyun having breakfast with Taeyong, or Yuta and Mark acting foolish, totally like Yuta and Mark.

"But if you notice, it's just us living life together," he finishes the idea, melancholy invading his face, and his eyes also fill with tears.

However, you are sure that none of you are really sad. In fact, the horizon has never looked so bright for the two of you. There is no more fear, no more guilt, no more uncertainty.

"I think this is a happy moment," you say, picking up the camera and turning it on. "You and me together, settling down for a good life. You think Taeyong would've documented this?"

Mark smiles big and nods.

"Yeah, I think he would have."

After focusing on Mark in front of the camera, and with the evening light behind him painting the whole room a warm orange, you press the shutter. A not very powerful flash comes out of the camera, but it does its work illuminating those parts the warm light won't reach, and it indicates that the photo has been taken. Mark asks for the camera and does the exact same for you.

"I'm sure he's happy, and really proud of you, Mark," you say as you wrap your arms around his body.

Your ear on his chest even allows you to hear his heartbeat, which is unusually fast. Mark takes a big breath of air that moves his entire body and yours, also trapped in his arms. A warm feeling invades you, embraces your heart and awakens butterflies in your stomach. His heartbeat becomes softer, and his voice, smooth but full of honesty and pride, resonates throughout your body.

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

Mark was once the most careful of all. An incredibly strong and humble young man that thought could have the world in his hands. He had to completely lose control over everything he knew once to know fear, to know grief, to know guilt, to finally find healthy love and forgiveness. To others, but most important to himself.

"But, babe," Mark breaks the hug to raise his head and sniff in the direction of the kitchen. "Don't you think something is burning?"

"Shit!" you exclaim and bolt for the kitchen. "The tomato sauce!"

"Yeah, that's why I didn't take Taeyong's dream to pursue cooking." He crosses his arms and rests his body in the doorway, while you fight to save a burnt, almost brown colored tomato sauce by adding a little more puree and water. "I can't cook either."

You quit trying to deal with the sauce. It looks irreparable anyway. "Yeah… Sorry about that, baby."

"We will survive." Mark shrugs, then comes to kiss you affectionately on the cheek. "Wanna order some pizza?"

Thank you so much for reading. If you enjoyed my work, please leave a like, reblog or some feedback. I'd love to read your thoughts!

#nct fanfic #mark lee x reader #mark lee fanfic #mark x reader #zh-lele #candy colored cars #too fast #nct 127 fanfic #mark lee smut #nct smut

[dracwife]

senses. | isaiah

Ship: Blind Faith  → Joseph/Isaiah Word Count: 877 Summary: Isaiah is asked a question that sparks his memories. AU where Joseph is killed by the deputy, leaving Isaiah in charge of P@EG. 

"May I ask you something?"

He is not startled at the voice behind him as he kneels at the base of the chapel. 

"I didn't mean to interrupt."

"All is forgiven, Child. Speak." He doesn't raise his head from his hands where he's rested it. 

"Is it true that being blind heightens your other senses?"

3 -- Sound.

The soft whisper of voices as he makes his way down the aisle, a phantasm of light, dressed purely in white and blinding to the prying eyes that threaten to see right through him as he cannot do himself. They expect him to trip, to tumble and fall on the length of fabric that trails behind him or the raise of the steps but he glides over them as purely as the color he brandishes, and he stands before them to begin his sermon. 

The strangled gasp and flailing of sheets as the man next to him tosses and turns, before sitting up and panting for ragged breath that won't come, fear emanating off of him like a wild animal. He's comforted only by the murmur of the younger man besides him, who hushes him and reassures him, telling him to go back to bed. It's alright. You're alright. It was just a dream, my darling. 

The steady heartbeat as he rests his head against the Father's chest, a comforting rhythm that's almost hypnotic in nature, as dazing as the silvery voice of the same preacher that continues to read whatever story he'd asked him to tonight, a plead of desperation; Reading was one of his favorite pastimes and given his circumstance he wished nothing more than to return to what little normalcy he could obtain. 

2 -- Smell.

The sugary sweetness of whatever the Saint had baked this time, the joyous laughter of children as they'd dug into the same treats. The wind billows through the trees and it smells like morning dew and honeysuckle and lavender as the wildflowers grow unabashedly, it smells like home. 

The piercing smell of wax, and the familiar scent of cedar -- the clamor of hushed voices and rain against the stained windows as the pews fill with bodies and they wait eagerly for tonight's sermon. There's a hint of mango and a twinge of aftershave, he knows of that overpowering bodywash --

"John, I am glad you made it."

"Well, you know. Can't miss the Father's Mass, even in a storm."

"It's an awful long way to travel."

"We make do. Need some help finding a seat?"

"No, thank you. I'll manage just fine from here."

He prefers the scent of Hope's distinct petrichor anyhow.

1 -- Taste.

Like oakwood and green tea, it was a habit that he'd only picked up after the Prophet had requested his help in preparation of the drink, as he could hardly do it himself anymore. There was also the intoxicating bitterness of Bliss, something he'd sworn was purely a result of the time spent in the gardens this morn, and the baptisms afterwards.  Not that it mattered, because it could never be as tormenting as the way the Father tasted as he kissed him then, forehead resting gently against the others as he offered simple praises and affirmations of affection. He prayed that God save him from temptation in that moment, for he could scarcely keep himself from overcoming with greed -- that was, until Joseph kissed him again.

0 -- An infinity. Touch.

The roughness of wood against his fingertips as he grazed them along the Convent's walls as he guided himself to wherever he assumed the Father to be. He led himself around like that, clumsily at first as familiar as he was with the church he could simply not remember how to traverse it in this new darkness he'd been expelled to.

"Lost?" 

He reaches forwards, for the voice is just before him, and he feels the warmth of skin and the sheen of humidity that the valley brings with it. He isn't afraid, because he knows this pattern of scars of imperfections as deeply as the sins they represent. His hands stay there, they linger and rest against Joseph's chest a while longer, some of the scars are deeper than the others, some healed, others still barely closed, some in a strange in-between. He winces as Isaiah's touch trails along each and every carved wound, but holds his composure as best as he can; He cannot show weakness, not especially in the face of the most important member of his Flock, his successor and…His heart.

"Not lost, no. Never, not when you're here."

He's pulled close, so close he's afraid he'll fall were Joseph to let go, and he feels the hands that hold his cheeks gently as Joseph presses a kiss to his lips, speaking softly still against his mouth.

"I'll always be by your side, Little Lamb."

Those words echo in his mind as he kneels alone now, no Father besides him, to guide him. He's alone, and the Resistance wreaks its havoc on what little they have left.

He prays he'll see him in Eden, but even then it seems so far. Now, as his heart aches more than any pain he’d ever sensed, he settles for the memories and dreams that hold the man he'd promised his life to. 

"No, it is not."

#ship.blind faith #dex.writes #self shipping #self ship #Selfship #self ship community #f/o #f/o community

[fubukiswifenoimnotjoking]

Some opm fanfic ideas I’ve come up with thatIwishIcouldwrite ._.

1. Therapy! Maybe a bunch of heroes are pushed into taking therapy by the HA for legal reasons and it’s SO angst filled, what with Genos’ depressing past, Fubuki’s inferiority complex, Saitama’s depression, Metal Bat feeling pressure to be a good caretaker for Zenko, etc. Hey maybe in a Garou redemption take he ends up there too, taking in his childhood trauma. And everyone’s arguing like SHUT THE FUCK UP MY PAIN IS REAL and throwing stuff, meanwhile Saitama sits with Mumen (who I see needing physical therapy more than therapy therapy but coming there anyway to support heroes) and they drink tea and talk. Maybe eventually it mellows out and they can (sometimes) put their pride away to talk their stuff out, but Garou SWEARS he will kill anyone who talks shit on him!

2. Genos decides he can’t take it anymore and leaves to go find the Mad Cyborg cuz he knows he just can’t get strong like Saitama, even tho he doesn’t want to leave him. This has been done a bunch in fic BUT I rarely see any where Saitama goes with him! And maybe they like, go on adventures to get there and maybe over them, they grow closer, learn to speak to each other more, Genosai pining etc etc. oh and lots of camping together. When I imagine the end I always see like, either they find it and Genos almost dies but Saitama’s like no, we can do this TOGETHER and they punch it together, or a really emotional one where they find the cyborg’s corpse and Genos breaks down but admits he’s almost relieved, and yeah idk what else.

3. AA ok so I have three very self indulgent Au’s, I’ve talked about one on here and it’s kinda lame but I love the idea. K so, there’s this scene in A Star is Born with lady Gaga where she sings la vie en rose in a drag bar and when her and the main guy meet eyes they just!!instant attraction. So yeah my idea was that but Genos is a new drag queen at a drag bar owned by Fubuki and Saitama is a taffy puller at a candy shop (idk why I chose candy) with King and Mumen and Saitama goes to the bar for the first time cuz they’re promoting their candy there. And yeah lol it’s Genosai again, they start to hang out in and out of drag bars and for Genos, in and out of Genny, his dragsona (tho Genoko is way better now that I think about it). He has trust issues cuz shitty past etc and Fubuki takes him under her wing and they’re friends and she gives him advice. Oh and Sonic is a drag queen too, him and Genos are rivals, Tatsumaki owns a more popular bar and her and Fubuki have that sister rivalry, Garou and Badd work there as bouncers and mess with Genos all the time bc I love Shitty Teen Squad. Mizuki is a bouncer too :0 Also there’s Mizuki x Fubuki and Garou x Badd. Sonic x Mumen too I guess, tho I’m not as into that ship as before

4. My second self indulgent one oo boy. Soooo this is an au where everything is more monstrous, ppl are half or have become complete monsters, but more traditional ones usually, like Godzilla level kaiju, incubi, stuff like that. Except these monsters fit a teeny bit more into society, so there has to be something like a police force to get at em when they’re criminals but with heroes/detectives. Cue Genos and Mumen, totally BAD, SCARY eMO cop and goody🥳two😍shoes✨ good cop. One day they’re getting coffee or whatever when the whole place blows up, and while most people survived in wreckage, Genos notices-a monster! He chases after an incubus, and even rockets into the sky after him when he starts flying. Saitama’s like ow what the fuck, I didn’t do any of this I was just walking by! And Genos is like shut up scum >:( they take him in for questioning and learn he’s a super OP incubus (go figure) but he doesn’t have much of a sex drive and doesn’t “do the whole incubus thing.” Genos doesn’t believe him but Mumens like omg that must be so hard, have some more tea sweetie. Anyway Genos leaves it to Mumen and when he’s gone Saitama uses his convincing flirty powers to get Mumen to release him. He feels guilty about using his powers, he feels skeevy! But he really doesn’t wanna be there and escapes, Genos catches him etc and it’s a whole conspiracy all 3 of them have to figure out that actually goes super deep, also more Genosai lmaaoooooo

5. THIS IS MY DUMBEST ONE BUT I LOVE IT. Ok so Saitama is out walking in the woods one day and finds an abandoned cottage and he’s like oh sick. He goes back home but can’t get it off his mind. He keeps going back and fixes little bits of it here and there, really makes it shine and then Genos catches him and he’s like yo Sensei? Of course Genos takes the project super seriously bc Saitama is hardly ever interested in stuff so they get it done and pretty looking ridiculously fast. Then Saitama suggests like, living there every now and again for certain seasons. Genos says yes without thinking, and is floored by all the tender things he discovers come with cottage life, like a garden, taking care of little hurt birds and not accidentally hurting the house. He’s scared to tell Saitama but Sai eventually worms it out of him that he feels like he doesn’t belong, he’s so bulky and damaging to everything. Course Saitama feels awful for not realizing, hugs the shit out of him and apologizes. Then he gets the idea to help Genos feel like he can enjoy a simple life, help him hold animals, feed birds, etc. and Genos is like oh my GOD Saitama is too good to me 🥺🥺 and idk what else happens hhhh. anyway could be either established relationship or mutual pining, I like either for this story but the most IMPORTANT part is it’s full of cottagecore imagery and vibes or it’s not a simple cottage au, and I live by that. Anyway if anyone likes these and wants to use them then hell yeah! I can’t write to save my life, but please gimme credit 🧡🎃

#opm #onepunchman #genosai #genos #saitama #fubuki #batarou #speedosoundsonic #tatsumaki #captain mizuki #fanfic ideas #speedal #saigenos #opm au #garou opm #metal bat opm

[hey-hamlet]

BNHA AU Ideas : Quirkless Erasure

Also on AO3!

TL;DR: 

In some worlds, Midoriya Izuku is the first quirkless hero. But not in this one, not by far.

Because his homeroom teacher is the hero he's always looked up to: UA's first quirkless Pro Hero.

----

Izuku isn't the only quirkless one, and Aizawa gets into the hero course via emotional devastation against his opponents.

anyway so: quirkless aizawa bc i need that

everyone thinks he has a quirk like emotional manipulation of something but no he's just fucking savage, he gets into the hero course bc he blasted the absolute shit out of mic

everything’s on youtube it’s one of the most viewed videos of all time

this aizawa's eyes are permanently gold bc i headcanon it's his quirk that makes his eyes black, not the colour they flash

"you yell because you have a constant fear no one is really listening to you. you play the class clown and don't try too hard so when you look back you think "i failed because i didn't try" not "i failed because i wasn't good enough""

"bro,,, bro what the fuck did i do to you"

aizawa isn’t even salty he’s quirkless tbh

"you're pushing this on me because it hurts, right? your loud, flashy but damaging quirk means the only thing people think you're useful for is heroics. did you want to do this, or is this the only way society will let you feel comfortable in the role it presses in on you"

"well being quirkless is rough but at least i cn be whatever i want to be"

mics just shell shocked mics not even using his quirk and everyone’s just uwu he’s erasing mics quirk

all aizawa does is walk is close and mutter "society thinks im worthless, which is rough. but you have to put your life on the line or you're nothing better than a villain to the people"

and just, lightly pushes him out of bounds

pls mics just in Love this guy tore him to fucking pieces but Damn

aizawa  helps him up off the floor

"so im probably not wrong but im a little sorry for saying it on live tv"

mic "youre amazing"

aizawa just goes bright red and starts sputtering

aizawa: the emotional devastation hero weakness: genuine compliments

consider 1A teacher aizawa just still made of emotional devastation, nezu made him promise not to use his powers of destruction on his children unless he was expelling them 

this is a quirkless izuku au too, mirio got ofa, allmight encouraged izuku to be a hero after the fight but had no quirk to give him and he manages to make his own way into the hero course

so izuku is a little analyst, gets mostly hero points but uses sharp rebar and poles to smash in the sensors of some robots, getting him a few non-rescue points either. Aizawa is watching like "oh interesting a non-combat quirk" and beside him allmight is vibrating with excitement

"he might actually do it!"

"who might do what"

allmight turns sheepishly to aizawa

"young midoriya on camera 6, he might just be the first quirkless student to pass the enterance exam to heroics straight up"

and aizawa can hardly watch anyone else for the rest of the exam, he adopts this kid on the fucking Spot

hes on the edge of his fucking seat, when nezu sends out the zero pointer. "this kid only needs 10 more points, just ten more" and izuku turns around to look at the 0 pointer and aizawa is like "fuck kid i hope you know what youre doing"

he manages to shove a piece of rebar into the treads, stoping it in its place. it tries to swat him like a bug but he just dives out of the way, picks up ochako and sprints and aizawa is like "holy shit holy shit these bastards better give this kid hero points for that"

like they are assigning final hero points and aizawa has to awkwardly put his hand up "i,,, should probably be excluded from giving midoriya hero points because i went from 0 to bias very very quickly"

allmight just nods sagely

"young midoriya be like that sometimes"

pls aizawa tries to act extra tough bc he can’t let anyone know he’s Adopted this child

for all izuku's brain hes useless w social stuff and thinks aizawa hates him but everyone else k n o w s

also izuku is the only person in 1A who knows ab aizawa's "quirk" and hes like, constantly vibrating w glee around the guy

aizawa walks in the first day, hears bakugo asking how this "quirkless bastard" got in, grabs bakugo w his scarf and yeets him into vlad’s room

"ok students, looks like we are a class of 19. any other comments before we start?"

and like everyone is so lost no one questions it

bakugo is screaming bloody murder until vlad "kindly" tells him ua has a strict no discrimination policy and aizawa would have been well within his rights to expel him

please nezu is like "uwu take one of 1B to make the classes even" and vlad is like "no ive already bonded tough cookies" vlad just adopts bakugo instantly

monoma and bakugou become bros, the baku-squad is 50% a thing, but its mostly 1B students but with pinning kiri. kendo and bakugo both keep monoma in line, monoma and kendo keep bakugo in line

during the sports festival shinsou is like "you must have a blessed quirk to get into the hero course"

and izuku just has this "really. this si what we're doing now" look on his face. hes just gesturing to shinso in exasperation, trying to make eye contact w aizawa hidden up in the commentary box

all you can hear from the box is aizawa quiet snickering as mic tries not to give the game away. he yeets shinso out of bonds and just hauls him back to his feet

"im quirkless you nonce"

"oh,,,"

"yeah, oh. what, gonna be embarrassed a quirkless kid kicked your ass?"

"nah i just feel bad for being a dick"

"ok you are the only valid person ive ever met, come meet my not-dad"

"wait what"

izuku fireman carries shinso into the announcers booth and just presents him to aizawa

you can just vaguely hear "no not kid" "but he'll be perfect" "kid this is live ask me after the festival" "but! hed be perfect! and you could train him to carry on your legacy of soul-crushing burns" "... hmmm"

"do i get a say in this?" "no" "nope"

mic just loudly saying "SO BEFORE WE WITNESS A CHILD CRY LIVE ON AIR AGAIN, AS ALWAYS HAPPENS IN THIS FESTIVAL, LETS START THE NEXT ROUND!"

there’s a counter “days since someone last cried: 0”

please its like "times cried durring all sports festivals" "average cry events" "number of times cried this festival"

aizawa being even more of a dad than canon, like hes a mess he sees on sad kid and he's like "wow that's my kid now"

he makes them soup when they get sick and leaves it outside their doors, refuses to admit its him doing it

soup cryptid

please mic is like 100% in love with him and had been for years but aizawa still has internal bias against the quirkless and thinks he's not good enough for mic so he cant make himself see the flirting for what it really is

“haha he’s just being friendlyL

“aizawa i literally want to marry u”

“awww ur so nice u mean as friends tho right?”

in this au ive decided that quirkless heroes are a thing, but pretty rare, in japan they are all underground bc villains go after them a l o t. there are some public ones in america but they tend to,,, die,,, pretty quickly

and bc there are some quirkless heroes everyone acts like discrimination isn't a thing anymore and quirkless people should shut up while quirkless people are still getting killed and committing suicide at like 500% the rate of people with quirks

also the suicide rate is,,,,, significantly higher in japan but no one ever talks abt it bc japan the “ideal place for people with quirks” so that surely means nothing could ever go wrong

izuku does the "its your power" speech in like 3 parts, before, during and after the sports festival bc he needs he bones w no quirk

stain asks izuku what his quirk is and izuku does the "wouldn't you like to know, weather boy"

",,, where are your parents"

"one abandoned me straight up and the other is giving it a red hot go right now, try me coward"

izuku but everytime he roasts a villain he does it in vine quotes

tl;dr in the au inko is like,, not ok w izuku being a hero and she's trying to do the "leave the school or you can't live here any more" ultimatum and it's not working for her

bc izuku said "ok bye then" and now lives out of his backpack. no one knows. he just like,, sleeps on the train

and iida is like "owo could i come over to your house" and izuku is like

"aaaaa its on fire. yep. made of arsenic and always in flames, why dont we go to the park"

everyone in 1a is like betting on what his house is like. they harass katsuki in 1b but he refuses to talk

hes like "hell no i got thrown into another class for talking ab that nerd eat my left tit"

they only fucking work it out when aizawa and allmight go to izukus house to talk ab dorms and there is literally no one there

aizawa asks izuku ab it like "kid you need to update your forms with your current address" and hes like "oh worm, she moved? wack."

“u,,,,didn’t know,,,,”

“nah lmao i sleep on the bench in a park near here”

“my boy,,,,,l

"what, ochako lives alone!"

"yeah, in a fucking house, kid"

aizawas just: this is literal child abuse i’m ur guardian now

allmight "hes my kid too dont be greedy"

"fuck off all might you already have mirio" "and you already have shinsou!" nighteye, from around the corner "ill take him!" aizawa and allmight "NO"                                  

mic adopts him nezu just sitting in the distance "well, its my school. i get the kid" one whole school full of adult heroes "NO ITS MY SON,,," izukus like crying "wait,,, you guys aren't sick of me? wild" while sobbing

afo out of nowhere: i’ll take the child :))) everyone collectively: N O

for self-indulgence, izuku is the youngest in the class for this au so they all call him their little brother

consider: quirkless aizawa is very similar to normal aizawa but he does practise self-care, he just tries to make it look like he doesnt because hes like that

if i dont take care of myself ill never be able to stand up to the heroes w quirks but also do i deserve normal good human things

tl:dr: he can cook well and is trying to teach izuku that 2-minute noodles and apples arent hero fuel

inko is like: "uwu i wont change what i cook for you so you'll just have to make do owo" in like, a pathetic attempt to get him to stop training so izuku runs off protein bars, electrolyte drinks and raw vegetables

just like, his bento at school. its only raw mushrooms, spinach, tomatoes and 2 full carrots

the only time he gets like a kinda valid balanced meal for a hero in training is when he pops by bakugous place and mitsuki forces him to stay for lunch

izuku is like "oh hi bakugo i have ur book-" "HI ITS LUNCH GET IN PIPSQUEAK"

hes just thrown into a chair, bakugo isnt even confused. izuku is like ",,,, so vlad gave me your book bc your house is near mums." "fair enough. hope you like miso salmon"

izuku just looks stary eyed

"f i s h ??? warm food bakugo id kill for you"

"deku wtf"

"i had nothing but 3 scoops of protein powder and 2 tomatoes today"

“dEKU WHAT THE FUCK”

"i had to eat the protein podwer with plain water kacchan. protein sludge followed by two raw tomatoes. i would commit real actual murder for you"

mitsuki always packs an extra bento after that

so like when it’s dorm time izuku gets rly stressed out bc he doesn’t know how to cook for himself??? bakugous in the 1b dorms and even if he wasn’t he definitely wouldn’t cook for him

1a goes on a fucking shopping trip, chaperoned, obviously

and they’re lining up and aizawa sees that izukus cart is only filled with like??? instant noodles and like two (2) fruits and he’s losing his mind bc yes okay he’s a child but he’s also a young hero and he’s going to get a heart attack by 20 if he doesn’t fix his diet

aizawa is like "izuku, you cant eat that" and izuku just goes "oh ok" puts the noodles back and comes back with a tub of protein powder and like 11 vegetables and a bag of kale

okay this is an improvement kinda, how do u cook it

,,,,,c

cook?

izuku just has a totally blank face

"i was just gonna like,,, eat it"

"raw."

"uh, yeah, is that not how u eat vegetables?”

"thats a potato. and some leeks. thats a fucking onion"

"it wont kill me though"

"thats,,, that not how you pick food kid."

“but vegetable??? good????”

"kid do you even fucking like any of this"

"wait, im supposed to like?? my food???"

yagi in the fucking health food isle hearing this is 50% laughing but 50% crying

aizawa: “izuku ur supposed to eat a well balanced and tasty meal”

izuku: *surprized pikachu face*

please even todoroki is like ",,, at least fuyumi could c o o k"

oh god imagine having a worse diet than shouto todoroki from 1a who eats nothing but cold soba and drinks juice

also please aizawa is like "kid i thought you just happened to be thin but now im seeing thats not the case"

bakugo in the distance "like inko ever fed him enough anyway lmao"

aizawa "WAIT WHAT"

whys bakugou shopping with 1a? its actually all 40 of the first years just descending on this poor little store. it’s this little mom and pop grocery store and a billion hungry hero hopefuls just burst through the door like 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒏𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒔

izuku is like "oh its too expensive" and aizawa is just holding a bag of rice, aizawa is like "its cheaper than the protein powder you have"

and izuku is like "yeah i mean its empty calories and im not paying that much for empty calories"

",,,"

"thats what you taught us sensei!"

"EMPTY CALORIES ARE ONLY A PROBLEM IF UR EATING TOO MUCH"

"and?"

"YOU HAVE 3 POTAOES FOR THE NEXT 2 WEEKS"

"i can put some back if you want?"

"THATS EXACTLY WHAT I DONT WANT"

#bnha au #bnha #aizawa shouta #aizawa #eraserhead #midoriya izuku #Izuku #Midoriya #erasermic #present mic #bakugou katsuki #all might #yagi toshinori #shinsou hitoshi #quirkless erasure au

[eagesoldartblog]

fantasy au w/ lewthur or lewvithur where one or more of them is royalty/a high ranking noble? no pressure but id love to see your take on it :0

I PUT IN SO MUCH TIME INTO THIS, BEcause this is an actual fic I want to write, so THANK YOU for this. B U T this actually has two parts, because,,, It became ten pages lONG. 

Claiming The Prince’s Heart

Sunlight beams through fleece clouds, filtering its rays through the thickets of yellowing canopy, and shining down on the blanket of red leaves coating the forest floor. A torrent of a river is not too far off, streaming water that was so clear and reflective that you could make the stars out in them. Accompanied by her own heavy steps, and the prince’s behind her. It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to come out here, I’ll have to make sure to give him my thanks. Of course..

“Dame Vivi,” She turns, head bowed, smiling. Unable to help the pull of her lip, it wasn’t every day that she got to see her highness. Especially not like this. With his hands clasped tightly together and eyes darting around every which way, a hint of rosiness blossoming in his cheek- whether it was from the mild chill or his utter delight on being let outside for once- well, it wouldn’t have made a difference. “Thank you for accompanying me out here today. I promise that it has left me with nothing less than gratitude and ecstasy, I will make sure you are rewarded handsomely for your sacrifice-”

“Your highness, with all due respect,” 

“Yes?” He continues to smile, but now it is almost perfect, a replication of a doll. 

“You dont have to address my like other nobles, your highness.” 

Arthur noticably deflated. His prim and proper smile dropping with a sigh and he sags forward, “Thank the good heavens.. I was wondering when you’d give me the go ahead..” He mumbles, pressing his fingers into his cheeks and forcibly massaging them. The ache must have been unbearable! Vivi snorts into her palm- accidentally bumping her nose in too far.

“You know, you don’t have to wait for me,” she explains, and part of her wonders how many times he has, but with a flick of her wrist, and grabbing his attention, she adds, “you could just begin to address me casually as soon as we step out.”

“And let the other guards and ad-advisors think you’re a seduc-ductress in disguise?” Arthur crosses his arms, nodding his head back to the castle with a bitterness clouding his eyes, Vivi only laughed more, “Nah, I’ll pass.”

“Haha! How funny. To think!” Taking a step forward, Vivi takes his wrist and holds it up, pulling him into her, leading him into a twirl, “The one dame they have been sending you out with every season is the one slowly undoing all of their precious work!” His disdain melts away, and he falls with her elegantly- he must have learned the dance recently. Vivi lets go of Arthur and drapes herself dramatically against a nearby tree, feigning despair, “Oh, the tragedy!”

A hand flashes out before her, and despite the anxiety Vivi could feel from its slacked position a dazzling warmth dancing across his face instead, “The Greeks will have a thrill recounting our t-tales.”

“Our downfalls,” She takes his, pulling him into the clearing.

Bad idea, Arthur’s eyes dart in every which direction, “O-our triumphs,” before his expression shifts and- 

“Into the great fall of the Hidorian kingdom!” They sing in usion, before Arthur bursts into a fit of cackling giggles, muffled by his own hand slapping a hand over his mouth. Raising her eyebrow, Vivi couldn’t help but laugh as well. But what made him this hysterical..? Dread? Is a war on the way?

“Well, i’m glad to hear you’re still in good spirits, your highness..” Standing straight, she returns to his side and places a hand on his shoulder- ignoring how he stiffens, “But you don’t usually joke about .. that. Is something up? Everything going alright with your healer?”

A shallow breath, and he stands straight. Any amount of cheeriness they just had vanished in an instant. “… Ah, yeah, it’s fine..” Frowning, Vivi crosses her arms, able to tell by the shudder in Arthurs shoulders that there was bound to be more. Swinging around- far too exaggerated than one would ever assume of a prince, his voice spills out of his mouth faster than he thought, “Well! things are-! Uh They are k-kinda difficult! But-! But, it’ll be alright in the end. No- nothing.. Will fall or- be destroyed or- or .. anything!”

“Hm.” Arthur freezes in his place, eyes wide and lit like candle flames, tucking her hands behind her back, Vivi leans forward barely an inch, “I won’t push if you desire, but what do you mean? Surely something must be wrong for you to talk about the end of our name.” Slowly approaching him, Vivi watches his shoulders ride up into his ears and his eyes dart from the trees, the grass and finally back to her. As if worried that someone else will hear. 

Cringing, Arthur bites his lip, “Well… I- we… “ In the distance a twig snaps- most likely from a squirrel- but Arthur jolts hard and jumps into a ridiculously panicked pose, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed together, breath rapid. 

“Your highness,” he flinches again, gaze shifting one last time before realization dawned on him… how ludicrous he was being. “This… you cannot speak a word of this to anyone. Understand?” 

With a nod, Vivi lets her arms cross and her eyes soften- hopefully lending an ounce of peace to Arthur. 

“We-we..  figured I am still a hopeless romantic,” A rush of blood filling his cheeks, averting his gaze, “The priestess worries I’ve been .. st-struck by cupid’s arrow, and considering the curse… I… “ Arms folding, he clutches the fabric tightly and gnaws on his lip- hard enough to be noticeable, and Vivi resists the urge to warn him against it.

But the fear that noticeably coursed through his body. Hard shadows reflecting that onto the otherwise vibrant scenery around them. A cold wind slamming into them at the same time. For good reason too.

That wouldn’t stop her. Moving closer, Vivi resists the urge to take him by the shoulders and hold him close in a hug, “Yes? Did someone catch your eye?” 

Arthur pauses, eyeing her carefully. His eyebrows furrowed together and for half a second his lip quivered. 

Before his smile- lacking anything real- returns and his shoulders sink, “You can say that, Dame Vivi. Hopefully in the coming years, it won’t be an issue anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

Arthur tilts his head, “You ask a lot, don’t you?”

“When I hear any news concerning my prince and my kingdom, I must know every detail. To quell my aching heart.” Her heart was racing, slamming against her chest. Whatever fear she felt wouldn’t find its way onto her face, however. Not when he was already under this stress. 

He didn’t relax. Instead the artificial structure of his posture and expression had become especially more fabricated. “A witch is on his way to the kingdom tonight. Do you by chance recall the name, Lewis Pepper?”

“Lewis Pepper of Paradiso. A promising Witch who stumbled upon the kingdom at the age of five. Possessing the great prowess of a Shaman- able to communicate and control the unknown realm with minor complication. A prodigy who had been taken in by the monks to properly train and learn.” Vivi recites, spouting off the information like it was her own name. Of course she would know his name. All Knights and Dames are required to learn the names and attributes of all known magic users- whether affiliated with religion or not. 

Magic never fails, and its power of the three realms is even more so. But harnessable by human beings? Humans who are driven to madness over a single thought and possessing ambitions beyond themselves? 

Leaving those of that nature unchecked is a death sentence. Everyone knew this.

Arthur tilts his head, “I’m pleased, then I won’t have to give another explanation. Tonight, he will be arriving here, and we will be performing a ritual. One that will hopefully cure me of this dreaded hex.”

“What-!” Vivi gasps. Mouth hanging open, several thoughts jumbling up and smacking together in a buzzing train of thought, “But-!…” Questions are about to fly, but Arthurs expression shifts from empty kindness and content to a look that a testy tyrant would wear. Daring her. Vivi grinds her teeth, takes a short breath, and straightens up, “Ahem, my dearest apologies your highness. That is excellent news, and I am delighted to hear it. However, I do have concerns.”

“And what would those concerns be?” 

Taking a deep breath, Vivi looks him in the eyes, and doesn’t flinch when she meets Arthur’s face again, “I mean no disrespect, but hasn’t previous attempts at this exact thing been a failure? Not only that, but you must be aware of his… condition.”

“Whatever do you mean?” 

“Reverend Pepper isn’t completely human.”

Arthur’s eyes widen for hardly a second, before he closes his eyes and nods, “We are well aware of his inhumane status. In fact, during the ritual, several more priests and witches- all under our own name- will be overlooking the rituals. As well as a charge of Dames and Knights.”

She hums, and her shoulders sag, nodding as her mind begins to drift, picturing the worst case scenarios, “Of course. I can only imagine that there would be ample security.”

“Dame Vivi.” 

She straightens up again.

“Would you like to join the onlookers tonight?” 

Heart stillen, Vivi gulps. 

“I would feel much safer with you present.” 

A carriage rolls across the dirt path - its wheels filled with creaking and its occupants spoke silent chatterings with hushed whispers - slowly approaches the secret entrance to the grand Hidorian palace. A sheltered and hidden part of the castle, where no civilian should be able to locate and travel inside without the consultant of the guards and council. 

Now, a great gathering of guards, priests and scribes were settled around its gate. The great councils and advisors of the king and the prince stood tall. Lacking care for how their fine robes draped against the ground and was stained by its dirt. Of course, none would dare mention it in the presence of the King and the Prince. 

Those two stood in the front and center of the gathering, watching the carriage roll through without a sound. 

Arthur shuffles in his spot, fists tightly pressed to his hips. Beads of sweat threaten to slide down his cheek as his anxiety grows with each creak of those wheels. Lip pulled in a nervous frown, Arthur spares the king a look, “Your majesty-”

“That isn’t my name, Arthur.” 

Uncle. Arthur spares his uncle a look, and he coughs back the urge to mention how that was inappropriate. But then again- who was going to tell them how to address one another? “Fine- Lance, uh-” As the words come out, it became abundantly clear that he didn’t have a single clue on what to ask the shorter man- who now peers over to him with an eyebrow raised, which was in itself very reminiscent of how he looked much earlier in life when his brother was king and he was a simple black smith who didn’t take anything from anyone and-

“Arthur.” 

He swallows back the urge to whine, forcing his gaze back to the carriage. He can almost see the outline of the Witch through the sun kissed tarps- and god did he look massive. Arthurs shoulders sank along with his heart and finally his brain spits out something, “Just- just nervous. I- ahem, I worry if this ritual will work, or if there will be any spies within their group or-” 

“There is no need to worry, your highness.” A priestess takes a step beside him, and her comforting presence does nothing to take away the unease on his shoulders. He meets her gaze, and it’s obvious she feels the same. It’s been this way ever since their last.. meeting. Blond hair in tight coils against her scalp, and her look of worry even more prominent, Madam Chloe continues, “According to the advisors, only Reverend Pepper will be present during the ritual.” 

“And his companions will not be coming forth into the castle.” An advisor- Duet- mentions from behind him. Arthur spares them a glance, and instead of the usual look of stoic content, there was twinges of worry lacing their features. Much like the rest of the Knights and Dames, as well as the priests and nuns and … everyone. 

It did nothing to ease the stress in his shoulders, but it wasn’t like it wasn’t expected. It was always this way. Arthur reminds himself, switching his attention back to the carriage, which finally stopped. Its Coach man lifting the door that held the key to his own salvation. 

Stepping out, was truly a monster of a man. Dressed in dark robes and wooly hair pulled back in a conservative manner, and glassy purple eyes shifting to meet his gaze. This time Arthur couldn’t even begin to process the sheer magnitude of him. Not only that but how… terrifying it was to be in his presence. He’s heard many times of what this man looks like, how tall he is, and how strong he is due to his inhuman nature. Except now it was real, and it was triple his expectation. 

But despite that, somehow, Reverend Pepper had… such a gentleness to his eye. A calm smile and his presence seemed to exude peace. All despite being a witch. Arthur gulps back his anxiety, straightening up, and looks him in the eye. 

“Welcome, Reverend Pepper. We are humbled to make your acquaintance. Was the trip smooth and stress free.” 

Pepper, chuckling the smallest bit, nods, “It was delightful to take in the scenery of your kingdom your majesty. It truly is the city of gold. However, if I may, you do not refer to me by that title. Lewis will do.” 

Arthur’s throat tightened, nodding a bit too quickly, “Lewis, of course. Please call me Arthur.” He takes a step forward and holds out his hand, suddenly overly aware of his actions when several eyes pin to his back, both from his side and Lewis’s. 

One must never knowingly take the hands of a caster, for they may be able to grab your soul through your hand and make you their servant. The lesson repeats in his head seven times before he noticed Lewis tilting his head, amused. 

“My, I didn’t take you for someone so trusting,” Lewis says, thoughtfully watching him and- to much of the horror of everyone else- takes Arthur’s hand firmly, “Thank you for allowing me the pleasure to help you, your highness. I will not fail you.”

As the King, Prince, and Witch spoke to one another, the tense and active air growing more screwed up and yet relaxed with the easy conversation. Neither the king nor Arthur paying the frightful bunches any mind. 

Madam Chloe feels a presence beside her, and eyes boring into her. Whether or not Duet wanted to speak to her, she didn’t turn her head to him. Keeping her hands clasped together and her eyes trained on every movement the prince made. 

Finally, a low whisper, “Do they seem untrustworthy to you, Madam Chloe?”

“No,” she admits, swallowing her tongue back, her fists tighten, “no, the chances of him doing anything is slim. I promise.” Nothing emitted from the man to show otherwise. No malice, no hatred, and all metallic clinks and trinkets within his robes weren’t the angry and swift voice of fallen victims, but instead a smooth, calming voice of a healer. And yet, her stomach twists and folds into knots, and Duet seemed to notice. If they were the only ones present, there’s a chance they would have placed a hand on her shoulder. Her mouth burned, but she kept her teeth ground shut. 

Duet must have heard it too, because they turn to her and watch her twitchy movements. They sigh, and turn to the King and Prince. “Your majesty, your highness.” The two turn back to him, King Lance’s expression unreadably gruff and Prince Arthur’s so obviously panicked. From behind them, Reverend Pepper leaned forward with interest- as well as everyone else. Duet continues on, “Madam Chloe and I need a moment to discuss some important matters. With your permission, may we take our leave?” 

King Lance stares at them fixedly, appearing uncaring for a single moment until it occurs to Madam Chloe just how much he seemed to debate that thought in his head. A glint being her only hint, and the rest being the grueling sensation of his aura. Tearing into her like paper. 

Do not lash out. She reminds herself, hiding her twisting fists out of sight. Only able to hope that he wouldn’t suspect anything from the two. 

“Granted,” The king says, snapping Chloe out of her spur and her eyes widen a fraction before she reminds herself to stay calm, unwavering. “Take one of the Dames or Knights with you.” 

Duet holds up a hand, “Your majesty, that wouldn’t be necessary-” 

“Take one with you. For security measures.” King Lance repeats, and this time they both knew that defying him further would end up with them in their deathbeds. Bowing their head, Duet nods.

“Of course, your Majesty. Please forgive my ignorance.” 

Chloe lifts her head more, tearing her gaze away from the king, and landing on the prince. Arthur. Who stared at her, with so much fear hidden in his eyes, fear and terror. 

I’m sorry, Arthur. 

A knight walks up to them, “Shall we be on our way?” he asks, and Chloe doesn’t respond, allowing her eyes to downcast, guilt welling up in her throat like glue. 

“Of course.” 

__

A woman was shackled to the wall. Her feet shackles as well. Her head hung low, and she didn’t move much besides for her gentle breathing- attempting to not breathe in too harshly and activate her sinuses. These dungeons were far too dirty to have breathable air. A harsh stench of a decaying body reached her nose, as well as the freely spoken words of the guards and knights of who to alert. 

”We failed to keep this one alive, what should we explain to the Captain?”

”Explain that it was the magician. It appears they casted a spell on themselves to ease them into Death’s embrace.”

The first knight scoffs, or laughs, she couldn’t tell. ”A coward’s way out, I tell you. Can’t even die with dignity.”

She cared to disagree, searching through the murky depths of her own vision to take in her own clothes. Stained with blood, powder, and losing the glow of protection she casted onto herself. Soon, she’s going to become hungry, and shrivel up in pain, wishing for anything to eat. If the Hidorian kingdom was like any other. They would leave her to starve. Or, perhaps keep her hanging onto life for as long as possible, to get answers, to show her origin, to- 

Heavy clicks fills her ears, and the knights who were posted fell silent. The scrap of metal gliding against metal alluding to the possibility that they were bowing in respect. ”Advisor Duet, It is a pleasure to see you here.”

”As well as to you. I have heard reports of a new magician dressed in green being locked away in here. May I see her?” Her blond hair falls in front of her eyes as she peers down to her stained clothes- meant to blend in with the nature around her. How could they possibly think it’s strictly green?

”Y-yes! Fo-forgive us for the conditions of her cellar, we-.. We didn’t have enough room to hold her in a prope-”

”There is no need to explain to me, I know that it isn’t customary to bring prisoners to proper rooms when one had just perished. Besides, she is in need of cleansing and washing, isn’t she?”

 The knights are silent for a second, ”Y-yes, she is still covered in… magic. D-Duet! Shall we accompany you? To ensure she doesn’t pull a nasty trick-”

A laugh, low and gentle, ”That will not be necessary. Her cellar is close, am I wrong? You do not need to follow after me then. At the very least, feel free to escort me to her. I do not want to keep her waiting.” The smug tone only brought a look of a shriveled man with a snarky grin across their face. She could spit. Spit in their face for all she cared.

”Of course, Duet. We will be you to her right now.” Her arms and muscles stiffen, clenching her eyes shut, she takes a deep breath- despite the rot filling her lungs- and holds it. Steeling herself for anything. 

”Glorious.”

Three sets of footsteps, one considerably softer than the others, traverse the dim and dirty halls to her cellar. Sure enough, three silhouettes appear in front of the bars. She didn’t lift her head. Able to feel their gaze on her, locking her in place. 

“You two may disperse now. I will handle all proceedings coming forth.” The smug voice, low and nasally, ripples through the cellar just in time for one of the grated doors to open. Much to the displeasure of the two knights, but she can imagine that Duet simply waved them off, because in the next few minutes, the two knights leave. All that was left was Duet, herself, and the dingy cellar. The chains holding her grind together awkwardly. 

For a second, there’s only silence. 

“Well, hello there, young lady. Or would you rather I refer to you differently?” 

Her jaw clenches and tightens, lungs feeling full, tight, ready to burst, and without her own input, she’s looking up at them. Cheeks full of air that squeezed past her lips. They quirk an eyebrow, twisting their head. 

Despite the darkness shrouding them both, it was clear they were smiling- but if it was for contentness or asserting, she couldn’t tell. “I wonder what you’re doing that for? Mind to release your breath and explain it to me. I’m eager to learn.” 

She doesn’t. Chest tight and instead sucking in more breath. 

“Ah, I see. You don’t want to speak to me, do you?”

Her wrists pull, blood pumping. 

Their smile drops, and they nod solemnly, “Understood. Well, I will make my case quickly for you then. If you wish to ask for clarification, I would advise you to open your mouth, or show the feistiness you possessed earlier during your capture.” 

Shit, that’s right, it dawns onto her again, and her eyebrows furrowing together from discomfort. She had been screaming earlier, as dames and guards overwhelm her, pin her to the ground in the library. Snatching her tools and forcing her into submission. All in front of the Prince she was trying so hard to take down. It wasn’t her fault-! Him becoming king would result in the end of the world-! No one would allow that- Duet takes a step forward, eyes training into hers, and in retaliation she squeezes them shut. 

“Rest assured, I have done everything in my power to find a way to ensure your safety, young lady. However, the king is far more stubborn than you are, and he doesn’t typically take much mercy to magicians and sorcerers such as yourself.” Duet hums a bit to themself, “As you can perhaps imagine why. The use of magic to manipulate the supernatural is a skill that is feared by many, especially since magic never fails. You understand why the use of magic is highly regulated and in some cases, entirely outlawed, correct?” 

They wait for a few seconds, their smiles returning, “It’s because a magician, such as yourself, assassinated the rulers of various empires and kingdoms around us. Including our previous ruler, who single handedly brought our kingdom to its golden age. Your presence, your assassination of our prince, is nothing but proof that those laws are neceassary.” 

She knew, she’s always known. FIguring out magic was hard enough as it is, but with the restrictions, its only more demanding of its user. Her lungs started to burn.

“You are to be executed by dawn, do you know that?” 

It slams into her, like a brick. Any remnant of calm shatters like glass and she gasps. Choking, sputtering, gasping for air as her head spins. Executed? Why- Duet takes a step back to dodge the spit flying from her mouth. 

“For attempted assassination of our next ruler. Surely, you would have understood that when you came into our kingdoms’ courts and violated our most sacred rules.” The smugness returned, she was in his court, and as far as she knew, there was little she could do. She peers up at him, desperation lacing her oxygen deprived brain, begging. She couldn’t tell if Duet was pitying her at that moment. “But, this isn’t the first time a magic user has entered our kingdom. And you will quickly learn that it is due to myself that they’re still here.”

What..? 

“We have a Dame who is quite famous for her work, and I know that she uses magic. It is in her blood, able to summon and borrow power from a god among animals that has sworn itself to her family. It took a long while to convince the King to allow her, but because of her good image, her new found status, it was easier to convince him to allow you a chance.”

She blinks up at him, confused, and mouth hanging agape with questions and worries she couldn’t begin to fathom. 

“The prince is quite nervous, and is in need of a priest to help him rest his worries, and figure out how to live his life with a hex plaguing him. I figured, who would be better to help him than a magician turned priestess.”

“A … a priestess..? Me…?”

“Of course. Living a life of celibacy, honor and honesty. All in exchange for not perishing tomorrow. How does that sound?” 

“F… fuck you!” She spits, grinding her teeth as rage fills her skin and boils out of her ears, surely her expression was akin to death itself, but Duet seemed entirely unphased. “I won’t do shit for you! I’d rather watch this kingdom burn to the ground with every monster in it-!” Her voice fell silent. She blinks, eyebrows furrowing as her mouth hangs open, starting to move but nothing coming out. A painful, stretched feeling overtaking her vocal chords and leaving her throat raw and strained. She tried to scream, but it only worsened the pain. 

“I wouldn’t recommend you continue, miss,” Duet says, his tone harsh and cold, uncaring, “regardless if you live for another century under the oaths of a god or die at a cross made of bones, the only tongue you will speak is truth.” Each word felt like a knife, slicing into her slowly, forcing her body to still and numb, “Only one secret will die with you, the secret of this spell, and your inability to resist the burn of hidden words on your tongue. It’ll feel much more like a hot coal in your teeth the longer you hold it back.” 

Her body shivers, crying out as her voice suddenly comes back, stinging tears falling from her eyes as her body sags and her mouth starts to burn. 

“Now,” Duet says silently, “why don’t you start with your name?”

Her stomach and arms lurch, heart pounding and nearly jumping out of her chest, up her throat and onto the floor. Before she trembles, and letters connect and fall out before she can stop them- try to.

“Ch-chloe..” 

“Madam Chloe,” Duet watches her knowingly, noticing how her arms shook and the way her jaw clenches and almost smiling. God she could rip that fucking face off of their skull if she could. Chloe’s mind screams, fists tighter than ever before. Her body has never contained so much anger, hatred, and regret than it has right now. Before being captured she could scream and fight her heart out, but priesthood was a very different ballgame. And it’s one that is filled with bitterness and fury beyond anyone’s comprehension. Even more so now that her lungs are filled with ash and the ember of a tongue has grown worse. 

But a secret isn’t a secret when it’s given to her. 

“Prince Arthur has fallen in love.” 

“Your highness,” Lewis’s voice finds him through the swarming ocean of madness and confusion, bringing his mind back to the candle lit room, and to the heavy chain around his neck. The weight of it pulling his neck down, and reminding him of how small he felt in the circle. Arthur opens his eyes to confirm if he was still there. Maybe to see if his daydream was real. 

Of course it wasn’t real. Arthurs brain reminds him, staring down at the chalk covering the floor around him, the blood red glow of the candles casting hard shadows everywhere, Lewis isn’t here to help you escape, Arthur. He’s here to cure you. Why would you even think that up in the first place? His shoulders tense up like his stomach- soured and sucked in so much it was painful, and he swallows back harshly, shooing away the wishes clouding his head more and more. 

Arthur clenches his eyes shut and allows the resulting thunder of his muscles attempt at clearing his thoughts. And when the lingering whispers of hope refused to stop, his logic bellowed. He wouldn’t ever ride away on a horse, clutching the hand of his dame and- and certainly not following the lead of this kind and gentle Witch. The grassy plains and the warm sky was nothing but a fantasy that he desperately wished to crawl away in. Maybe if he prayed hard enough, Lewis would hear and grant his worries and pull him out of that depraved room and from those begging eyes. He didn’t need to look to see those sharp gazes boring into him. Hell, Arthurs surprised he doesn’t have scars from the piercing stares- they nearly burned into his skin!

A throat clears, “Your highness,” and Arthur’s attention snaps up to Lewis, who somehow still looked peaceful even with the deranged lighting. He smiles warmly, taking Arthurs left hand- which was a trembling, shaking fist- and slowly painting on the symbols against the top. The coldness of the paint made him flinch. Lewis didn’t say anything, “You seem more nervous than before, is this bothering you?” 

“Y-you could say that.” Arthur mumbles, glaring at the hand in Lewis’s grasp and trying to will it to stop shaking as much as it did, but his words only seemed to worsen it. Much to his surprise, Lewis gently begins to massage his palm and wrist, and Arthur’s heart jumps into his throat. 

“It is understandable, Arthur.” Lewis murmurs, words already beginning to soothe him, “These types of procedures do bring out the worst of the imagination.” His eyes flicker up, a small grin dancing on his lips- or was it the light? Arthur blinks rapidly but before he could try and look and check, Lewis was done, and shuffling back to his original spot.

His heart raced, whatever it was. Arthur couldn’t even begin to wonder why the smallest look was sending his brain spiralling. Control yourself, Lewis is just- just trying to comfort you! Nothing more!

Yeah. Yeah, that’s it. Just-just keep reminding yourself of that, okay? Okay.

As soon as he was back in his proper place, Lewis sat up straight and nodded to his right. There was two persons there sat behind two large drums, and upon his signal, they slammed their mallets against it. It’s beat so loud, Arthur could feel it in every part of his body. His mind going numb, and Lewis began to explain,=.

“Tonight, I will draw this curse out from your body and into the amulet you bare now.” His voice was different, commanding, fierce, “Whatever demon is held in your soul, Arthur Kingsmen, it will be gone by dawn’s end.”

#mystery skulls animated #msa #mystery skulls fanfic #arthur kingsmen #vivi yukino #lewis pepper #fantasy au #royalty au #eage writing

[overthedub]

Gorillaz Fic Recs Part 1

Today’s a day all about love, and I just feel like there isn’t a whole lot of love shown towards the fanfic side of this fandom. Hopefully my haphazard rec list can fix that.

A lot of fics on this list (though certainly not all) feature Murdoc as the main character (because I love him lol), so if you hate him, maybe skip over this rec list.

Got a good mix of family fics, angst, and other stuff, so take your pick.

(Part 2 incoming)

Family Fics

Things They Don’t Understand by Ferrenbach

Summary: Murdoc is the most real person in the world, but it's hard to make people understand when he doesn't have the words.

Rating: Teen

BOOOIIII this fic. THIS fic right here is my jam. I absolutely adore it to bits, and whenever I’m lacking inspiration to write for my own fic, I go and revisit it.

The poetic style, the deep characterizations of both Murdoc and 2-D, just everything about this fic is so damn good, my dudes. Holy shit, I cannot recommend this one-shot enough.

Worlds Infinite by Ferrenbach

Summary:

Murdoc goes looking for 2-D, who can only take so much party noise. He can also only take so much alcohol before turning into an armchair philosopher. Murdoc is more practical. There's no sense in musing on "what-ifs" after all, is there?

Rating: Gen

Yet another great piece from Ferrenbach. I’ve been meaning to delve into their other fics, too, but so far I’ve only had time to read a couple of their one-shots.

I adore the atmosphere of this fic, and the descriptions and characterizatons of Murdoc and 2-D are just as amazing as in Things They Don’t Understand.

The Gunpowder Princess by ghoullly

Summary:

A runaway princess with a gun on her back

A man with raven's wings and a bird's skull atop his head.

A giant man with long legs and the biggest heart she'd ever seen (figuratively and literally).

A man with a ghost between his ears and the ability to sway the elements with his mood.

One man is mute, one man is blind, and one man is deaf.

A ragtag group of misfits band together to travel to the edge of Japan to help the young heiress escape her planned assassination. They quickly realize that it's not as easy as it sounds, especially with some dangerous people following close behind.

Rating: Mature

I haven’t had the chance to catch up with this fic in a while (and it’s unfinished), but I adore this AU to bits. Japanese folklore AND found family dynamic? Yes, please.

return address by beepboopwriting

Summary:

Even evil has loved ones.

Sometimes, evil sends said loved ones letters written in nasty ink and addressed from a high security prison.

Loved one replies. She replies a lot.

Rating: Teen

This one makes me wanna cry, man. Murdoc and Noodle’s father-daughter relationship was one of the reasons I joined this fandom in the first place, and this Phase 5 fic does NOT disappoint. My heart aaaaah

Horse With No Name by Invader Sam

Summary:

Another one-shot Gorillaz fic, this time set during their first US tour. Noodle is plagued with nightmares and Murdoc, fearing it may be affecting her performance in the band, decides to 'handle it'. :) Rated for one or two curse words.

Rating: Teen

This is a really cute Phase 1 Murdad one-shot that made me smile a lot.

Sleepover by vinnie2757

Summary: 'Is this "Everybody Crawls into Murdoc's Bed Night" and I wasn't informed?’

Rating: K

Another cute Phase 1 one-shot where both Noodle and 2-D have nightmares and sneak into Murdoc’s bed to talk to him about it like the kids they are, much to his weary dismay.

Snapshots by vinnie2757

Summary:

The early years are full of the soft moments, the easy smiles and piggybacks, the laughter and the supportive hands behind backs. [A collection of moments from a time when Gorillaz were happy.]

Rating: K+

This one-shot collection spans across multiple phases and is an all-around nice time. No drama, no angst, just Gorillaz being a family. :D

You Are Now Entering The Harmonic World... by OceanBacon23

Summary:

A collection of little scenes. Each deals with a certain song by Gorillaz, and you might need to know each song before you can read the story.

No archive warnings apply. ADDITIONAL WARNINGS MAY BE PLACED IN AUTHORS' NOTES.

Rating: Gen

I haven’t read all the one-shots in this collection yet, but it’s nice to take a peek into these song creation moments the band members get up to here.

The Apology by eyedentification

Summary: Murdoc makes amends. (My own take on a common Gorillaz fanfic trope.)

Rating: Mature

This is more a comedy one-shot than a family one. I’m not exaggerating when I say I yelled at this Phase 4 fic lmao. I won’t spoil anything other than the fact that this is just Peak Murdoc™.

Press, Release by ratbat

Summary:

Privacy is something you trade for fame, Murdoc knew that, but there's always something personal you hope to cling to, something to keep for yourself.

Now if only the fucking media and their hack lackeys would quit acting like that belonged to them too.

Rating: Teen

This is a great Phase 1 fic focusing on Murdoc’s own battle with internalized homophobia after the media tries to rip his coming out away from him in an interview.

This fic does have some slurs in it, courtesy of Murdoc’s own foul mouth and internalized hatred, but do read this one if you’re okay reading that sort of thing.

What Are We Going to Do? by Close_enough_to_lose

Summary:

Murdoc notices that Noodle looks embarrassed while handing 2D the lyric sheet for Every Planet We Reach Is Dead. He quickly figures out why. Luckily, it’s one thing he’s equipped to deal with.

Or,

Murdoc finds out Noodle is bi and gives her his advice.

Rating: Teen

More Murdoc being a good dad to Noodle. :D Just a bi dad giving his bi daughter (actually good) advice.

2D is Weird by alexisntedgy

Summary:

2D has always been a little different. Or, other people always thought he was. But when people keep telling someone that they're weird, it starts to get to you.

Or, 2D is autistic and has a panic attack because of his ~issues~.

TW for internalized ableism, panic attacks, and general ableism. Any other TWs in the notes.

Rating: Teen

I also have a headcanon that 2-D is autistic, and I like how this fic portrays how he struggles with his and other people’s perceptions of it and him. Noodle’s also being a good sister to him here, so that’s a plus.

Just Another Girl by alexisntedgy

Summary:

Noodle is a girl. She knows that. The only problem is, the rest of the world doesn't know it.

Rated T for Murdoc

Basically just trans Noodle. I love her she's gr8 :))

Rating: Teen

I haven’t caught up with this fic all the way through yet either, but the chapters I have read are super cute and wholesome and full of Gorillaz family-bonding. :3

Angst Fics

Pretending by FleetRed

Summary: After a casual hookup, Stu imagines what it would be like if it were something more.

Rating: Teen

I adore the many character study fics in this fandom, and this one is no exception. It’s a great insight into 2-D’s romantic mind.

The Selfish Giant by fashionpixiez

Summary:

YOU ARE MURDOC NICCALS, AND YOU ARE EMPTY.

No, no. Don’t tell me you’re not. You’re empty, aren’t you ? A vessel. But you aren’t the kind of vessel that wants to be filled, are you? No. You reach out to people and you touch their hearts and you burn them, because you want them to feel some of that burning emptiness too. that’s all you’re good for. (It’s like it’s all you’ve ever known.)

Rating: Teen

This fic hurts my heart, but damn is it good. The descriptions of Murdoc’s feelings and his past are so poignant here, I just want to hug him.

Other Murdoc-Related Fics

Tattoos by HowlingMisfit

Summary: There's a reason why Murdoc doesn't have them anymore. (Rated for: Major character "death", Gore, Blood, Nudity and Murdoc.)

Rating: Mature

This is a horror/supernatural one-shot that (to me at least) is more comedic than scary. Of course, the descriptions are downright macabre (which I love), but...again Peak Murdoc here.

Lucy, I’m Home by TheDarkLegate

Summary:

After the release of Humanz, Murdoc isn't willing to wait another seven years for more success. Lucifer wants to see just what he'll give up to get it. One shot. Spiritual Successor to "A Day in the Life of Satan".

Rating: Teen

I’ve hardly (if ever) seen any fanfics that delve into Murdoc’s deal with the Devil. The way Lucifer is portrayed as a world-weary businessman rather than someone to fear is pretty funny and really in line with Gorillaz’ sense of humor, too.

Morning Person by Lmaooooonade

Summary:

A young boy cherishes the mornings where he can just exist. Things might not be great, but he can at least exist peacefully for a while.

Rated Teen for my fucking language.

Based off the headcanon of another creator I very much admire, please inquire within.

Rating: Teen

This Phase 0 fic is a great stand-alone read even if I haven’t really delved into the headcanons that inspired their fic (though I have seen their neat artwork around sometimes).

If I move my hands fast enough, I won’t die by alexisntedgy

Summary:

Murdoc Niccals has Tourette’s syndrome, this is the story of his journey.

Because nobody else has written about this headcanon yet!!

This will probably be a place to keep Tourettes!murdoc ficlets and one shots!!! For context, I (the author) have a tic disorder :)

Rating: Teen

Personally, I like Murdoc’s verbal tics, so it’s interesting to see someone else’s take on why he does them here.

Aaaand that’s it for now! I’ve read a lot more Gorillaz fics than this, but this list was getting long enough as it is, so I figure it’d be best to just make another rec post based on genre.

Part 2 of my recs will focus more on OC/Murdoc and reader/Murdoc romance fics, so stay tuned for those!

If you have any fic recs for me, by all means tell me about them! Just keep in mind that I don’t like any band ships aside from 2Russ and RussDel.

Self-insert OCs or reader fics are a-okay, though!

#if anyone has any other fic recs lmk! #Gorillaz #fanfiction

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

Just like any other night

Kanene’s Notes: Sugar! /0/

Spice! \0\

And everything nice! \0/  

To create the perfect fluff

But Kanene accidentally (unless...)

Added an extra ingredients to the concoction--

Angst!!

*Explosion*

*Evil crackling*

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! Good Omens belongs to the incredible Neil Gaiman and  Terry Pratchett; Aaaand the characters of this fic (and AU) themselves belongs to @10yrsyart

* Read here to know the AU Ducks and Dolphins and click here to see everything cannon about the D+D. It’s  f a n t a s t i c! Reaaad!  ^w^)s2

* I didn’t really asked a permission by myself, but this post kind of give permission to write about the AU? (I really hope so xDDD), so, if you also want to write about them please don’t be ashamed ! (And give credits, pleaaaase! :D)

* Something around 1.200 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* This is not cannon. This idea just came because everytime I thought in a fluff, plots of Az cheering up Crow were all that appeared, soooo I tried to challenge me a little and make the opposite. I hope I managed to demonstrate even a little bit of their personality (and don’t have misunderstanding them) well!

* Fanfic em português brasileiro daqui á pouco Thankys for reading, my lollipops! I hope you enjoy this day! Hug a demon, hug an angel and don’t forget to drink water!! Byeioo!~

                                     [~*~]

Aziraphale is calm, stoic, precise, bold, moralistic, firm, direct and ruthless if necessary. He is also sincere, generous, comprehensive, limpid and kind. He is as a pillar, a base. Something concrete, someone who you can lean on for support, trust, belief.

He knows very well how separate his work from his personal life. His feelings from his mind. He is rational, leaded primary by his brain and not-

And n-not-

(Come on. Control your breath. Control yourself. One… two…three…)

In any way, under absolutely no circumstances by his feeli-

(Focus. Focus on something, something, some- a book! Take one of the books. Right. Very well. Focus!)

…

Damn.

His breath came out a little weaker, shaking. He tightened his grip in the fabric of his pants, closing his blue eyes and trying to focus on his own heartbeat, which seemed to reverberate in his dry throat,  attempting to correct his breathing with its.

Inhaled and exhaled. Inhaled and exhaled. Rested his head against the couch, sinking a little deeper into it. Some part of himself was thankful that it was already night, which meant the bookstore were closed and there was no danger of an incident.

There was no danger.

He settled back a little more on the furniture, held the book again, with a little firmer grip than needed as he readjusted it to a more comfortable position where there would be no danger in his thick, warm tears researching its pages, eventually falling and blurring the words of its lovely sentences.

At least it was night, a night just like any other night bathered in a weather of every other nights where there would be no incidents.

“Angel…?”

… Damn.

Crow approached closer to the upright, perfect posed form, seeking his eyes and staring deeply into them, their gold glittering in the night pitch. Az didn’t tried to hide these vulnerable moments, at least not anymore, but neither did he showed them when they became present. His voice came out a little faltering, yet in the calm and characteristic tune he always had.

“Crow, dear, I thought you were already sleeping.”

“I just woke up for a cup of tea.”

They both knew this was a lie, still none of them really mentioned such information when the one with dark hair as the ebony of the night, a night just as any other one, removed the book of his carefully manicured hands and held them for a moment, intertwining their fingers as he got closer enough to finally entwining him in a hug. He loosened the hold for a brief second, only to position the angel’s head on his shoulder, and then tightly hug him again. It was as he was trying to  show that nothing, on Earth, Hell or Heaven, would be able to hurt the angel without going over him, first.

It might seemed as any other previous hug, if it wasn’t for the fabric of his pajamas getting gradually wetter and the slight shivers and sniffles that slipped from the mouth of the one with blonde, almost white, hair. His cry was silently, and for a light of moment, Crow remembered his own cry, which could be described as any other, just a bit louder and with rumpled clothes.

He shook lightly his head, focusing in the present, in the possibilities, the sentences and words that would be said after the storm. His mind felt lethargic and yet running in full speed almost at the same time. Crow combed Az’s hair and gave small, but big in meaning, pecks in his neck without even noticing.

The time itself lost meaning in this piece of time.

A hand tapped softly his back and his head slightly lifted. It was the signal to break the touch, and it was promptly obeyed.

“Do you want to talk about this?” His voice was a special whisper, packed, designated and delivered to just only one being in the entire universe.

“There is nothing to be said.” Even with everything, his voice still lacked major flaws or slips. It was made of a calm, sad nature. “It is just…” And the owner of hundreds of books, reader for thousands years and maestro of words ended up losing himself in them.

‘It’s just…’  Crow wondered if even the humans, at some point of their existence, could understand all the feelings and sensations between the lines that this phrase could possess.

Probably.

Everyone does, in some way or another, doesn’t it?

The black-haired never paid much attention to time, especially after such thing already fulfilled its basic function of lead him as far as possible from that particular century. However, this day, he almost could see the sand of hourglass pouring grain-by-grain as he let the angel running his fingers through his hair, pressing his back on the blonde’s sweater and stroking the back of the other’s hand with his thumb. His warmth and presence were the necessary reminders that Az needed to focus on the here, in the Bookstore rocked by this ordinary night, and now, with the best company he could ever wish to be.

A piece more of time was spent. Maybe two, three, and perhaps a little more.

…

“We should go out.”

“What are you rambling about, Crow love? We always go out.”

“No. I mean… for something different! Not just a lunch.”

“A day to just wander, you mean?”

“Maybe.” Shrugged, pondering, his tongue absently wriggling in the ar. Az tightened a bit more the touch, feeling lighter as allowed his mind travel and dance between some possibilities for the future meaning of this conversation. “We should make a picnic!”

“A picnic?’

“Yes! In any place, nearby or far away! We could take the food or milacre it there. I can give you a ride.”

His head turned, his heart floating and expanding when he saw that the trail of tears had faded from his husband’s face, and now the red was also beginning to gradually leave his skin.

Az pondered for a few minutes, eyes gleamming.

“I don’t think I’ve ever married at a picnic before.” Smiled, and part of his soul melted with the beauty in the other’s happy expression, along with the smile that also was painted in the demon’s face, he was absolutely sure.

“Let me tempt you, then.” Crow hissed, carrying on their internal joke, since they, after their last wedding-lunch, decided that from now on there would be no more dates, only weddings.

Az raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful disbelief look. Their foreheads met. The angel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling a light, which came neither from the stars, cars, poles and nor the living room lamp, little by little filling his being.

“I love you, Aziraphale.” Their eyes met.

“I love you too, my husband.”

Perhaps they had spent some time like this, in silence, enjoying themselves. Perhaps they had slowly moved away right after the talk, holding hands, a warm feeling in their chest. Who really knows? It is a moment only for them, so let it be.

“The preparations should be started, then!” The one with blue limpid eyes, now up, excitedly leaded to the kitchen. “Milacre a massive amount of food certainly would alert your side just as mine, so, I believe the best option we got is cook by our own.”

Crow scowled, which evolved to as annoyed expression as received the lightly incisive and inquisitive look from the other, puffing up his cheeks and deviating the glare as he dispirited followed his steps into the other room.

“Fffffffine.” Gave up of the dream to sleep that night. However, deep inside, he knew worth it just to watch the blonde-haired angel calmly, excited walking his eyes and fingers through the Recipe Books were under his care. Urg. The sacrifices that must be made. “But I’m not using a patterned apron!”

And the cars drove through the streets, the stars hardly glowed in the sky and the worlds kept not an even bit silent during that sunless hours, just as any other night of any other day. Nevertheless, on that store, more specifically a Bookstore, at that moment and for those two, maybe this wasn’t a common night anymore, and would definitely lead to a day not even a little ordinary, either.

A recipe book was open, some bright smiles (maybe trying to help the stars?) too.

“Sure, my dear. I would never…” replied Az, trying to decide which color would most highlight Crow’s duck patterned pajamas.

#Good Omens AU #Ineffable Husbands #Crow #Az #Ducks and Dolphins #fluff and angst #Hurt/Comfort #Fluff #Angst #They're so lovely <3 #Alternative Universe #Picnic #D+D AU #Oneshot #Kanene's Fanfic #Kanene's Art #Reposting because I'm gonna delete this from my other account #<33

[anorakofavalon]

Another Way

Reveal AU -- 3x02 -- The Tears of Uther Pendgragon Part 2

Merlin x Morgana

My little twist on it is where the reveal took place. I tried to seek a very terribly timed but still somewhat thematically appropriate place to place a reveal, and I decided on early-to-mid season 3. Because here Morgana is definitely edgier and a little more evil, but still has the potential for good. Idk, I think it’s an interesting line to walk. I hope you enjoy! I might make a couple more based off of this one if the response is good :)

“I thought… because she has magic, I thought we were the same”

“In some ways you are.”

“No. I will never be like her.”

“You have learnt an important lesson, Merlin. Your determination to see goodness in people will be your undoing. But I fear that your futures are now joined forever. She is the darkness to your light, the hatred to your love.”

He felt the darkness course through the roots, the very foundations of Camelot. It spread its way through the Earth, the soil of the city, and up through his body. His head lashed back of its own accord. It clawed up the walls, rumbling in its wake, and then the towers. He felt it reach the sky and thunder roared.

Merlin grimaced and began to run. The dead had risen, and he knew very well who did it.

~{(0)}~

He turned a corner, taking his pained breathing as yet further inspiration to get to his destination quickly. Every footfall took more from his reserves than any spell ever did.

“There are times, Merlin, when you display a sort of... I don't know what it is. I don't want to say... it's not wisdom. But, yes. That's what it is.”

It was a tad bit ironic, given what he was about to do. Arthur wouldn’t be all too happy, probably. But still... He flung his arm out and pulverized a skeleton, and another when it moved to block his path. He took a distinct, twisted pleasure in launching one out of a window. He would have to apologize to Arthur’s ancestors later.

“I don't have time. I need to get back to Camelot. The kingdom is in danger and...it's my fault. I should've listened to you. Should never have trusted Morgana.”

“You did what you felt was right, and that shows great courage, but trust is a double edged sword.”

He stood before the entrance to the catacombs. The gates were flung open, shredded by a force he knew to be magic. It lingered in the air, thick as the darkness he descended into. Merlin’s eyes were golden as he calmly took the steps down. There were skeletons hidden in the darkness but he did not bother with his hands. His magic tore them apart as he passed them.

There was light as he reached the bottom. It was unearthly, pale, a shadow of the sun’s own rays. The magic was putrid and foul and older than Kilgharrah himself. Merlin unsheathed his blade, useless as it would be. His steps were quiet as he turned the corner and saw her standing there. She was bathed in the light of shadows, a vision of twisted beauty. He knew whose fault that was.

He noted the wooden staff in the center of the room, from which the light had been birthed. Its form was as twisted as Morgana’s smile when her head turned to him. He knew from her eyes that she was beginning to comprehend just how significant he was, in the scheme of things. She was beginning to comprehend that he would never stop trying to stop her. She would be right.

Still, her old confidence hadn’t left her, warped as it had begun to become. “You should leave, while you still can.”

The castle rumbled in distress. Lightning’s light striking at the illumination of the moon. Brighter, angrier, more vicious. He thought, briefly, of Nimueh. Was he the lightning? Or was Morgana? Was she the moon and he the sky? The sky thundered, and his heart did too.

“Morgana, please. I beg you. Women and children are dying. The city will fall.”  

She didn’t falter much. “Good.”

Merlin wanted to huff, but that would hardly make things better. She was bluffing and he knew it. But still, his voice wavered. “No, you don’t mean that.”

She faltered then. “I have magic, Merlin. Uther hates me and everyone like me. Why should I feel any differently about him?”

It was strange that she was seeking validation from him, pleading in her own way. Not that she knew what that was like. Morgana had never had to beg for a thing in her life.

“You of all people could change Uther’s mind, but doing this? Using magic like this will only harden his heart.”

Her eyes narrowed in frustration. “You don’t have magic, Merlin. How could you even hope to understand?”

And there it was, the moment of truth. She would hate him, if he told her the truth. If she didn’t already. Merlin wondered if she had truly forgiven him for poisoning her. Did she understand? Would she have done the same?  He couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Kilgharrah and Gaius weighed heavily on his mind. She would tell Uther, or worse still, Arthur.

“I do understand, believe me. If I had your gifts, I would harness them for good. That’s what magic should be for. That’s why you were born with these powers.”

She could scream in frustration, he could tell. He probably could scream in frustration too, but she couldn’t tell. He had been wearing a mask for longer.

She fumed. “You don’t know what it’s like to be an outsider. To be ashamed of how you were born, to have to hide who you are. Do you think I deserve to be executed because of who I am?”

His first memories were of being caressed and cuddled and coddled by his mother Hunith. She was a sweet woman who worked hard and gave him everything she could. His second memories were of his delight when he could summon toys to his hand, when he made candles glow. His third memories were of being called a bastard and not knowing what it meant, except that it made his mother cry.

He remembered being called a demon child. The other children told him he was born in a lightning storm, that he was evil. And when he cried, when he wailed because the things they said hurt, the skies would darken, and rain would fall, and the other children would run to their own families. And lightning would hammer the earth.

They got bolder as they got older though, and Merlin meeker. They would hurt him. They’d push him, punch him. They would throw things at him, too. Sometimes they made him bleed and he wanted nothing more than to hurt them in return but he wouldn’t. Because he was desperate to prove that he wasn’t a monster. He was just a normal boy.

But he wasn’t and he never would be. And he hid his magic, as best he could. But it was never enough. It always slipped from his tight, white-knuckled grasp. It struck out when he most desperately wished that it wouldn’t. And everytime the villagers became more suspicious. Not just resentful of him, but his own mother as well, for spawning a demon.

And his only reprieve from that pain had been Will, who joked him through it. Who took the blame for some of the mischief that Merlin’s magic caused. Will never treated him differently. He never lied to Merlin. Will had died for Merlin. If Merlin didn’t have a friend like Will, who risked a lot and risked it often for his sake, then Merlin would never have made it to Camelot.

Morgana never had that. He could have been that, but he was afraid. He was a coward, Merlin knew as much. Will wouldn’t have poisoned his friend. He would have found another way. But Merlin didn’t. He betrayed Morgana when she had put her entire life in his hand, and he crushed it.

The rumbling brought his attention back. Her eyes were studying his own. Her pupils were dilated and searching him for the truth. For once in his life, the truth. He would give it to her.

His voice cracked. “No, Morgana, you don’t deserve to be executed for who you are. No one does.”

Her eyes widened slightly. He had caught her completely off guard. She had expected him to condemn her for having magic. Is that what he had become?

He continued. “But it doesn’t have to be like this.” He stepped closer. “We can find another way.”

They stared at each other for a moment. For one brief second, a minute, a breath, they hoped that what he said was true.

“There is no other way.” Her voice was soft, but heavy with conviction.

He nodded at her words, and stepped back. She knew he wouldn’t give up. He made a move for the rowan staff, just to get her on the defensive. She had a sword raised quickly, and he did as well. He tapped his blade to hers and the fighting began. It was a bit of a performance on both their parts. He wasn’t aiming to harm her, and for some reason she wasn’t either.

Merlin smirked a little bit. “What are you going to do? Kill me?”

Morgana got a little competitive, but she was amused. “You don’t think I can?”

They struck at each other strongly, but not as strong as either of them should have. The crack of thunder outside dispelled any of Morgana’s hesitations or distractions. She struck her first true blow, and he blocked it. They weren’t playing anymore.

He went on the offensive, striking at her head from above, she blocked it and took advantage of his close proximity. She twisted her body around and moved to strike at his abdomen. Merlin jumped back, but the tip cut at his shirt and grazed his skin.

Morgana showed surprise. “You’ve gotten handy with a sword since I’ve been gone, Merlin.”

He pointed at the cut. “Not handy enough.”

She grinned despite herself. But not for long. She tacked on a little grimace and decided to bite at him. “Awfully good with poison though, I’ll tell you that.”

His face flickered as if she had struck him with the sword. It was the worst possible time for a conversation. The castle was under siege, Arthur could have been hurt. But Merlin felt it in his heart.

He dropped his sword. “I didn’t want to. You were my friend. You are still my friend, Morgana.”

She gaped at his dropped sword. He was clearly full of surprises. But she wouldn’t allow him the chance to blindside her. “So what happened Merlin? Couldn’t find another way? Or maybe you just wanted me to die because I had magic.”

He frowned. “Is that what you think of me, Morgana?”

“It’s what you’ve shown to me. Friend.”

She moved forward with her blade aimed at his throat. He didn’t move.

“If you’re going to kill me, make it quick.”

She was puzzled once more, but she didn’t show it this time.

“Why should I?”

The blade was touching his skin now.

“Because if you don’t I will stop you.”

“And just how do you plan on doing that, Merlin? You’re useless even with a sword.”

She was baiting Merlin, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. He nudged the blade away from his throat and began to move forward.

“Because I do know what it’s like to be an outsider. I do know what it’s like to be ashamed of how I was born. And I already do have to hide who I am every day. Every. Single. Day.”

He was a step away from her, and she was looking up at him, startled but entranced by the way he spoke. This was no serving boy speaking.

“I can’t let anybody else get hurt Morgana. I’m a protector. I protected you too, once. I’m sorry that you made me hurt you. I’m sorry that I wasn’t a good friend to you. But I can’t let this go on.”

She moved to stab him but he knocked her away with a flash of his eyes. Not very much, not very hard, but enough that she was at a safe distance.

Her eyes didn’t turn gold in return. She was as stuck in place as the staff in the center of the room, staring at him. The room felt different. The magic shifted, and the torches became lit all at once, contrasting the pale light of the moon with a fiery hue. Merlin stood straighter, as if he was at last being honest with himself, admitting to a heritage older than time.

He locked a look with her, and gave her a moment to sear the gold of his eyes in her memory for all of time. He reached towards the rowan staff from where he stood, and pulled it towards him with magic. It flew to him with little hesitation, as if it had always been his servant. He took it in his hands firmly, and something gave in the atmosphere. The dark magic bristled, afraid of what was to come, but powerless to do anything about it, like Morgana herself.

Merlin raised a knee and slammed the staff to it, and with a spark, he tore it in half. Morgana recalled the sheer power of the staff. When Morgause gave it to her it hummed in her hands, prickling at where she held it like a thousand needles.

“I’m not powerful enough to wield this, Morgause.”

“Do not worry my dear, that staff was crafted from the Rowan tree in the center of the Isle of the Blessed. It carries its own power. None have laid eyes on it except for our kind, the High Priestesses, and the blood god that planted it.”

Her disbelief was immense as the darkness receded from the sky. She and he both felt it retreat from the towers and the walls of the castle. They felt it abandon the undead it had summoned. They felt it rush down through the soiled soil and into the catacombs, to attack Merlin.

Wind rushed through, the only sign of the physical manifestation of the evil Morgana had summoned. And yet, somehow, Merlin stood calmly in the center, and with his glowing eyes silenced it once and for all, without moving or flinching.

It was dreadfully quiet, and Morgana hated it because she was certain that even he could hear her heart pumping. Could sense her fear. And still his eyes were glowing, as if mocking her and apologizing all at once. As he stood before her, the flames of the torches framing his figure, she wondered if he  had planted the rowan tree himself.

But her awe at his power was short-lived as the gold receded from his eyes and he looked more like Merlin and less like Death. When he stared at her with those insufferably blue eyes, when he moved to help her up, only then could she bring herself to burn with the anger that she was feeling.

Merlin had magic.

Merlin had magic, and he killed her.

She trusted him, and he did not trust her. The betrayal pulled at her throat more than the hemlock ever could have.

Her eyes water and she stood up, still holding the sword at him. It was useless of course, they both knew it. Even her magic would have been useless. But she held it up against him anyways.

“How many?” She demanded. Her voice was raw with anger. “How many of our kin did you betray? How many have you sacrificed to Uther’s hatred Merlin?”

Merlin flinched. “Just you.”

That had hurt her in ways she was not prepared for.

“How many have you killed for his sake?”

“Too many Morgana. But not for Uther’s sake. Never for Uther’s sake.”

“Then for who? Arthur?”

Merlin nodded. “He is destined to bring magic back to Camelot, Morgana. I have to protect him. He’s my friend.”

She reeled. “So was I.”

Merlin couldn’t respond to that. His heart was thudding in his chest. His throat was constricted. This was a terrible idea, but Morgana had to know.

“You’re a monster Merlin.”

His face crumpled. “I didn’t want to poison you, Morgana.”

“That’s not what this is about Merlin!” She screamed. “You knew. You knew I had magic. You could have helped me and you-you...” She glared at him. “You pawned me off for the druids to deal with. And you got them all killed. You did that Merlin. That was you. I’ve lived with it for years but it was never my guilt to hold.”

She was up close and personal now, pounding her fist on his chest with every accusation.

He let her. What she said was nothing new. “Yes, Morgana. I’ve done terrible things, I know that. But I’m trying. I’m trying really hard to change things.”

He could feel the heat of her tears as they dripped down her face. “How could you do this, Merlin?”

She stared at him, desperate for an answer for the sake of her own sanity.

“I-” Merlin did not like how he was at a loss for words. Arthur and the knights were probably still fighting. He decided he needed to sit.

He moved towards one of the tombs and sat on it, his hands clasped together. Her eyes followed him, brows knit together.

“I would say...” he began carefully, “that it wasn’t my choice. But that’s not true. It has been my choice.”

She began to open her mouth to say something but Merlin cut her off. “I’m not talking about poisoning you Morgana. I really did have no choice then. If I didn’t do it, Morgause wouldn’t have stopped the siege of the city.”

She offered nothing to that, which he supposed was a sort of permission to continue.

“I have been able to do magic since I was a baby. I did magic while still in a cradle. I could make things fly, or light up candles.”

Tears had stopped streaming down her face, and now she was listening. Guarded, but curious. If anyone deserved an explanation it was her.

“I was always told that I was a monster, Morgana. You’re just another person in a long line of people. I had to leave Ealdor when I was nineteen because if I didn’t, bad things would happen...” He let that hang in the air. “My mother sent me to Gaius. He’s her uncle, and a good friend. She sent me here to Camelot because I needed to learn to control my magic and nobody else could teach me. Let alone in Ealdor.”

He thought, for a moment, that her eyes softened. Her face resolved to neutrality soon enough.

He tapped the tomb with his fingers. “When I stepped through the gates the first person I met was Gwen. She was so kind. As we entered the citadel, do you know what the first thing I saw was Morgana? I saw you, looking down at the execution of Thomas Collins. For having magic.”

He huffed. “I came from a place where having magic made me a demon, and waltzed into the heart of a kingdom where having magic made me a dead man instead. Gaius told me as much. I saved his life with magic, and the very first thing he did was tell me off.”

Merlin laughed to himself. “He still does that. But he’s not the only one… On my first night, a voice called my name. I went down to the caverns and I met a dragon.”

She gasped, her first reaction. “It was you, you released the dragon while I was away. Gwen told me about it.”

Merlin nodded. “That was a mistake.” He looked at her intently. “One of very many of my mistakes, Morgana. But that first night he told me I was destined to bring magic back to the land. But he told me I could only do it through Arthur. If I was to fulfill my destiny, I needed to protect Arthur.”

He sighed. “And so I did. Not only because it was my destiny, but because Arthur became a friend. And despite everything, sometime I see him and I just know that… he is the king we’ve been waiting for.”

“He’s Uther’s son, Merlin.” Morgana snapped.

“He’s much more than that Morgana. And you know it.”

She changed the pace. “And what else did the lizard happen to say?”

Merlin quirked a quick smirk at hearing Kilgharrah called a lizard, but he answered her. “He answered my questions mostly, and sometimes he warned me about things… and he was wrong.”

Morgana watched him warily. “Like not telling me about my magic. That was his directive, I presume?”

“No.” Merlin said. “His directive was for me to kill you. Or to let you die.”

Her mouth opened at that but she didn’t say anything.

“He told me, Morgana, that you were destined for darkness. I told him you had a good heart.”

Merlin stood up and approached her. She didn’t move. “It wasn’t only until you began to meet with Morgause that I suspected maybe he wasn’t wrong.”

Morgana glared at him. “Oh? I’m the evil one? It seems to me that I was just making your job easier. By killing Uther, Arthur could be king.”

Merlin shook his head. “If you killed Uther, Morgana, if you did it with magic… Arthur would never accept it. He would become just like his father. Arthur has made great strides but he’s not ready to become king yet.”

“So you’re just going to wait until Uther dies of old age? You’re going to let our people suffer for that long in order to preserve Arthur’s innocence? I thought you were a coward but it turns out you were just a fool. You went to a dragon for advice and listened. Like a puppy.”

“I listened to you, too,” he shrugged “whenever you had a vision, I acted on it.”

She was brought up short for a moment but brought it around to the offensive. “And yet you couldn’t tell me about your magic.”

“Don’t you think I wanted to Morgana?”

“Clearly not all that much if the fact that it took me raising an army of the undead is any indication.”

Merlin groaned. “Morgana I’ve been alone all of my life. Nobody to tell my secret to. Nobody to share myself with. I had Will, and my mother before, but they didn’t have magic they couldn’t understand. Gaius doesn’t practice anymore. And anybody else just...died. For my sake. Or because of a curse. Or because I had to stop them from hurting Arthur.”

He looked up at her. “But then there you were with your visions. I suspected, I hoped, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe. Until that night that you told me what you suspected. And suddenly I didn’t feel so alone anymore. Because you were my friend Morgana. You risked your life going to Ealdor to fight for me, a servant. And you had magic.”

There wasn’t any particular emotion on Morgana’s face, except for perhaps the shadow of a smile that flickered on her lips as she recalled the day she went to Ealdor.

“I wanted to tell you so badly, but… Well, my excuse was, is, that all my life I had been told not to tell anyone. Since I was a small child. I have always lived in fear. It’s...it’s not an easy thing to admit for me. And you’re the king’s ward, Morgana. Add that to the fact that the dragon insisted you were evil and I...”

He motioned to her. “I failed as a friend, and I chose not to tell you. And I’m sorry. But I’m telling you now. You’re the first person from Camelot I’ve willingly told.”

She stared at him evenly for a few moments. “So what now, Merlin? I can’t stop. I’m too far gone. And I don’t think you will stop protecting Arthur either.”

“No.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why would you tell me this?”

“Because you deserve it, Morgana. You’re still good. You trusted me and I hurt you. So now I’m trusting you.”

“You’re an idiot Merlin.” She bit. “If I tell Arthur, you will be executed or exiled. Do you think he will forgive you? You just gave me the key to winning Camelot. What will she do without its protector?”

“Arthur wouldn’t kill me. He would be hurt that I haven’t told him. Conflicted. But he wouldn’t kill me. Just know, Camelot will always have my protection.”

Morgana bristled, working herself up again. “What has this kingdom done for you that I haven’t? Why do they deserve your help anymore than I do?”

Merlin didn’t answer her question, choosing to answer the unaired one instead. “I told you about my magic because we could find another way, Morgana. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

She sheathed her sword. “They’ll be looking for me.”

Merlin nodded.

They assessed one another until Merlin spoke.”Will you tell Morgause?”

“I don’t know.” Morgana said.

Merlin nodded, and decided to grin, despite his rapidly beating heart. “Just remember, if Arthur banishes me, there will be no one to help him put on his night shift or keep his figure trim. The last time I was gone for more than twenty four hours he couldn’t even find his sock drawer.”

Morgana stared at him incredulously as he suddenly disappeared, taking the torchlight with him. She almost couldn’t help the giggle that came out of her mouth. She was horrified and confused, and very much in need of a nap.  But she did wonder just how much Merlin had given up for Camelot. What was his play? Why would he tell her about his magic?

Arthur burst into the catacombs in a panic with wild eyes, and she startled. When he saw her the relief on his face was somewhat… heartwarming.

“Morgana! You’re safe!” His eyes wandered around the room and landed on the rowan staff. Her heart leapt up in panic, but he came to a different assumption than what she feared. “Did… did you stop the undead? With… that?” His eyes went to her sword.

She couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Is it so surprising? I used to beat you in fights all the time when we were younger.”

He shook his head disbelievingly. “Okay, uh, we have to tell father about this.”

She nodded, clenching her jaw.

Arthur began to turn around towards the stairs but stopped and said something unexpected. “Morgana? Good job. I’m glad to have you back.”

Her face made a humble smile, and she felt a small rush of affection for her brother. “I’m glad to be back.”

Arthur cleared his throat. “Right, well, you wouldn’t have happened to have seen my idiot manservant would you? He’s always in the most unlikely of places after these sorts of things. Wouldn’t have been surprised if he had tripped his way down here.”

Morgana froze a little. She could have told him then and there Merlin’s secret. Even blamed the staff on him. But she couldn’t. Not yet. She had to strategize.

She laughed. “Not that I noticed.”

They began to head up the stairs. Morgana knew only one thing. She would be sharing some more words with Merlin.

For better or worse, this was far from over. But maybe… maybe they could find another way.

#mergana #merlin x morgana #bbcmerlin #katie mcgrath #merlin #colin morgan

[7wanderingpaws]

3. OCEAN'S DEPTH.

Genre: marine biologist AU

Pairing: Bambam x reader

Word count: 2.2K

0. Synopsis // 1. Whales // 2. Dolphins. // 3. Ocean's depth.

(( I apologise for the long wait, it was not planned at all. Uni is in full swing, I am in my final year so the thesis writing is giving me a little headache. I hope this part will still be somehow enjoyable! Please let me know your thoughts! ))

- - - OCEAN'S DEPTH - - - 

You were tapping your foot against the warm pavement the next day in the docks. The weather was still shiny, pleasant and ever so welcoming.

You were supposed to have a good mood, considering all of these aspects.

You felt like a piece of a rotten tuna tin.

Exactly like rotten tuna tin, whatever it was supposed to mean.

"Where is he?!" you shouted angrily to your two colleagues who were looking bored and kept murmuring among each other, snickering quietly.

"Calm down," said Jaebeom and pressed the side button on his iPhone to check the time. He pushed it back into his back pocket of his jeans. "His late just 15 minutes."

Jackson laughed in disbelief. "Just 15 minutes."

You glued your strict stare at the cheerful man and he just shook his head, not bothering to talk to you more.

"Well, if he isn't coming in five more minutes, we are leaving."

"But boss, even if we leave in five minutes we will still be there 30 minutes early," replied Jaebeom in a diplomatic tone.

Jackson snickered again.

You sighed, combing your hand through your already messy hair. "Are you making fun of me? Do you think this is funny?"

"No, not at all, " replied Jaebeom, coughing away his giggle.

"Look, " you started, holding your hand out." You can think whatever you want to, but the fact is that we should be there a little bit earlier to make sure everything goes smoothly. As you can see, this duck head is late anyway. This is why we have to be there a little bit earlier."

"A little bit, " mumbled Jackson to himself.

Jaebeom started to laugh loudly, not bothering to hold back anymore.

As much as you liked to see your forever cold and reserved colleagues laugh, you did not appreciate it one bit at the moment.

" Shut up, Jackson, " you snapped. " You don't let me breathe even for a little while right? You always have to push me down."

He looked at your hurt face and before he could argue in any possible way, from the distance you hear rushed steps and a very tired looking Bambam. He was trying to adjust his bag on his shoulder as his hair was a big mess.

"I'm here! I'm coming! Oh, thanks for waiting for me!" he breathed as he finally arrived.

"Good." You turned around and marched forward towards the kindergarten that you hated so much at the moment. Youngjae was going to pay a big price for letting his mouth talk so much.

If Jackson were a dog, he would have his ears pressed to the sides of his head, his tail between his legs and lowered head. There wasn't a minute when you wouldn't fight these days despite how hard and cold you both were to each other.

He still wouldn't tell you what was pissing him off so much about you and you certainly didn't want to ask about that kind of thing. This way you were aware you were annoying him and that was more than enough.

You all made your way to the kindergarten and to your pleasure, you were quickly ushered in, the kids already waiting.

"Soon is never soon enough, Dr Im," you muttered to Jaebeom. Before he could retort something too sophisticated for you, you turned quickly to your team, mostly focusing your attention to your two colleagues rather than Bambam who was smiling the whole time as he was observing the kids' drawings. "Alright, we literally have like five minutes to discuss whose gonna talk about what-"

"Y/N," you heard your name. Youngjae's mum was standing next to you, her frame tall and her facial features kind. "I'm afraid you will have to go in now. The kids are waiting and they are restless."

"Yes but-"

"Alright, then there is no time to waste!" shouted Bambam, suddenly paying attention and soon he was entering the little hall kids had there for their performances.

Jackson snickered as he followed Jaebeom and BamBam. "So much for authority, huh."

A tiny growl escaped your lips, startling you. Damn. Now the game was on. You would ruin Jackson for sure.

The kids greeted you politely, most of them curiously looking at the blonde haired Bam.

While Jaebeom looked uncomfortable and seemed like dying inside from the attention, Jacskon was also naturally swayed with the kids as he was smiling brightly, waving at them.

"Everyone, let me introduce you these marine biologists," started Youngjae's mother, her voice a pleasant baritone. "Dr Y/N is The leader of the marine research institute here in Mokpo and Dr Jackson and Dr Jaebeom are her colleagues, great experts. Dr Bambam is a world famous marine biologist from Thailand so make sure to treat him with respect."

"Are we considered trash next to him?" muttered Jackson as he had his bright smile plastered on his face.

You bumped your elbow into his ribs quite hardly which made him wince with surprise. He widened his eyes at you, but you had a stern look already focused on the wall opposite you.

"Now I will let our biologists take over the talking and please participate actively!"

Youngjae's mum nodded at you with a supportive smile and you made sure to thank kindly before reaching for the microphone. "Hello, everyone! I'm Y/N and I would like to start with a question for all of you. Please raise your hands if you want to talk, alright?" you asked with a thumb up but when you didn't get any feedback you laughed awkwardly. "Alright! So, what do you understand under marine biology or marine research?"

You had a weird feeling these questions were not exactly meant for such a young audience as these four-year-olds who barely knew their mother's name but you were serious about doing your job professionally.

One little boy in the front row raised his hand shyly. "I think you work with dolphins."

You swayed your head from side to side. "Yes, could be also."

"That's totally true!" exclaimed Bambam. "And you know what? Let me tell you something that I'm sure you didn't know about whales." The way he was talking made kids much more interested compared to the poker faces they were giving you.

"The whales are these veeery big animals, right?" asked Bambam, motioning with his hands. "We also call them mammals.They can be much bigger than this whole kindergarten! And the important thing to know about them is that their poop is needed for the ocean's ecosystem."

You snapped your head to Bambam, not liking the direction he was going. On the other side Jaebeom and Jackson were also listening as intently as the kids.

"So how exactly does this work, hm? Well, when the whales poop it's really big and can create a big mess." Kids started to laugh, supported by Bambam. "Their poop contains lots of important microscopic creatures that are beneficial for other fish! For instance, phytoplankton is a crucial part of the ocean's ecosystem and some underwater animals live off of it."

"Eeeeeeeeew," kids whined but laughed loudly, scrunching up their noses.

BamBam laughed too, extremely pleased with himself. Jackson and Jaebeom had a light grin, also liking the playful way Bam introduces whale's poop.

"Another thing we have to watch out for are coral reefs," started Jackson his part. The k god it was an appropriate topic. "Do you know what are coral reefs right?"

There was a lady sitting by with a laptop who screened pictures on the big wall so the kids could see. She typed quickly into Naver search engine the keywords and all of you were met with colourful fish and massive corals. It made you smile right away and Jackson went up to the picture and tried to simplify the information about the coral reefs.

“They are extremely endagered. You know Nemo, right? Well, he also lives in these coral reefs. However, Nemo cannot cope with warm water. That is what causes these reefs to die out - warmed up temperatures.”

All of you continued with your presentations, trying to engage children as much as possible and at the end having a nice little quiz (with a rewarding present too!).

Jaebeom was breaking jokes about sea horses that you tried not to cringe about but thanks to Bambam, he supported every idea. It almost seemed like he knew only the silly stuff and not the important information.

After you were finished, you stopped Bam on your way out, so that Jackson and Jaebeom wouldn't hear you.

"Can we go diving today?" you spilled.

If Bambam was surprised, he didn't show it. Instead a signature smile spread across his face. "Well of course , boss. But I made a reservation at this five star restaurant you have in this little town so I will go there first."

You sighed, trying not to show your frustration. "Look. You shouldn't eat before diving especially not with the depth of our diving. Secondly, I thought you came here to help, not try all these so call five star restaurants."

BamBam laughed, tapping your shoulder. "should I cancel because of you, Y/N?"

"Exactly my idea," you smiled, walking past him.

He was quick to grab your hand though. "How will you refund me this loss?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well, you know how important I hold my luxury living. Since I'm going to sacrifice it for you, I hope it will be rewarding at least." His hand trailed over your arm, teasing you.

By now you knew better than to take his ideas seriously. "Well, heated kissing under the water, how does that sound."

Bam laughed tapping you shoulder. "Good enough, girl, good enough."

You couldn’t believe your own words. Your own mouth. Your own tongue. heated kissing under the water?! There was a sudden urge for you to slap yourself as you were heading to the docks to meet Bambam. How on earth could be this cheesy?

You knew Bam was not serious half of the time and even though he did tell you some good things about the marine biology and how to lead this entire expedition, there was just something slightly off. Whenever someone had a really professional question, he would suddenly go quiet, dissing the question with a simple answer that didn’t really add to your knowledge.

When you entered the docks with all your equipment, you were surprised to find him already there. He seemed deep in thought, his uniform already on.

You paused for moment, thinking what to do.

Set your goals straight...

There was no doubt you needed this guy for you to find the creature. He had all the knowledge. Apparently...

“How was it when you found out people know you?” you walked towards him, a challenging smile on your burned face. “And why would you talk about whale poop anyway.”

Bambam smirked as he turned towards you, his full attention now on you. “How else do you want to get the kids attention if not with something silly.”

“Good for you it was a true fact what you said,” you replied, putting on your swimming gear.

“I only say things that are true,” he murmured, eyeing you up.

A blush creeped up into your cheeks as you zipped up the uniform on your back. You both checked whether the equipment you had was prepared for the dive. “I sure hope so.”

“So the kissing part,” he started.

You held out your hand quickly. “Stop right there. I didn’t mean any of that.”

“And here I thought you liked me.”

“I do,” you said without thinking and immediately closed your mouth in pure shock. What did you just say?!

“You do?” he asked, his eyes full of hope.

You blinked a few times, hiding behind one of the oxygen bombs. “What? I mean I like the weather today.”

Bambam burst out into fit of laughters. “You are actually super cute, you know that? You play all this hardly approached girl but you are such a softie.”

“That is some good load of whale poop,” a doubtful laughter was the only thing you could let out. “Anyway, let’s go already. It’s gonna be super dark in a few.”

“Yes, that’s the point of night diving.”

As you walked passed him, you turned sharply, facing him. “Listen, Bambam. Whatever it is you are thinking, stop it. And just so you know, I have my eyes on you.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you, obviously not taking you seriously but you just sighed and headed towards the little stairs leading into the water. It wasn’t until you reached the edge and you slipped on it that you felt his hands around your waist. You yelped feeling him pulling you backwards. It made him slip almost as well but he managed to keep a strong stance making sure you are steady.

You stayed like that for a few more seconds before your heart beat could simmer down to a normal rate. Slowly turning around, you saw Bambam’s gentle face. His eyes were already on you when you met his gaze. His hand reached out and slowly pushed your messy hair out of your face before his index finger slipped under your chin, sending goosebumps down your spine.

You didn’t realise you were holding your breath until his face was inching closer to yours.

Oh no.

What was he doing?!

 <3

#got7 au #got7 fanfic #got7 au fanfic #got7 fanfiction #got7 bambam #got7 bambam fanfic #got7 bambam soft #got7 bambam imagine #got7 bambam drabble #got7 bambam scenario #bambam #got7 scenario #got7 imagine #got7 drabble #kpop fanfic #kpop au #kpop soft #bambam imagine #bambam fic #bambam fanfic #bambam fluff #kpop fluff #got7 jb #got7 jackson #got7 youngjae #got7 yugyeom #my writings

[kanene-yaaay]

A night just as any other

 Sugar! /0/

Spice! \0\

And everything nice! \0/  

To create the perfect fluff

But Kanene accidentally (unless...)

Added an extra ingredients to the concoction--

Angst!!

*Explosion*

*Evil crackling*

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Thank you all very much for all the support, reblogs, heart and kinds words that you give to me. I can’t call this a christmas gift, but I really hope that you like it and this small oneshot is able to light up your day! ‘w’)s2

* This characters don’t belongs to me! Good Omens belongs to the incredible Neil Gaiman and  Terry Pratchett; Aaaand the characters of this fic (and AU) themselves belongs to @10yrsyart

* Read here to know the AU Ducks and Dolphins and click here to see everything cannon about the D+D. It’s  f a n t a s t i c! Reaaad!  ^w^)s2

* I didn’t really asked a permission by myself, but this post kind of give permission to write about the AU? (I really hope so xDDD), so, if you also want to write about them please don’t be ashamed ! (And give credits, pleaaaase! :D)

* Something around 1.200 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* This is not cannon. This idea just came because everytime I thought in a fluff, just appear plots of Az cheering up Crow, soooo I tried to challenge me a little and make the opposite. I hope I could demonstrate even a little bit of their personality (and don’t have misunderstanding them).

* Fanfic em português brasileiro (Portuguese Version) Thankys for reading, my lollipops! I hope you enjoy this, festive or not, day! Hug a demon, hug an angel and don’t forget to drink water!! Byeioo!~

                                      [~*~]

Aziraphale is calm, stoic, precise, bold, moralistic, firm, direct and ruthless if necessary. He is also sincere, generous, comprehensive, limpid and kind. He is as a pillar. A base. Something concrete, someone who you can lean on for support, trust, belief.

 He knows very well how separate his work from his personal life. His feelings from his mind. He is rational, leaded primary by his brain and not-

 And not ngk-

 (Come on. Control your breath. Control yourself. One… two…three…)

 In any way, under absolutely no circumstances by his feeli-

 (Focus. Focus on something, something, some- a book! Take one of the books. Right. Very well. Focus!)

 …

 Damn.

 His breath came out a little weaker, shaking. He tightened his grip in the fabric of his pants, closing his blue eyes and trying to focus on his own heartbeat, which seemed to reverberate in his dry throat,  attempting to correct his breathing with its.

Inhaled and exhaled. Inhaled and exhaled. Rested his head against the couch, sinking a little deeper into it. Some part of himself was thankful that it was already night, which meant the bookstore were closed and there was no danger of an incident.

 There was no danger.

 He settled back a little more on the furniture, held the book again, with a little firmer grip than needed as he readjusted it to a more comfortable position and so that there was no danger in his thick, warm tears researching its pages, eventually falling and blurring its words of the lovely sentences.

 At least it was night, a night just like any other night with a weather of every other nights, where there would be no incident.

 “Angel…?”

 … Damn.

 Crow approached closer from the upright and perfect pose, seeking his eyes and staring deeply into, the gold glittering in the night pitch, when found them. Az didn’t tried to hide these moments, at least not anymore, but neither did he show its when they became present. His voice came out a little faltering, yet in the calm and characteristic tune he always had.

 “Crow, dear, I thought you were already sleeping.”

 “I just woke up. I came for a cup of tea.”

 Both knew this was a lie, still none of them really mentioned such information when the one with dark hair as the ebony of the night, a night just as any other one, removed the book of his carefully manicured hands and held them for a moment, intertwining their fingers as he got closer enough to finally entwining him in a hug. Separated the hold for a brief second, only to position the angel’s head on his shoulder, and then tightly hug him. As if he tried to show that, nothing, on Earth, Hell or Heaven, would be able to hit him without going over him, first.

 It might seemed as any other previous hug, if it wasn’t for the fabric of his pajamas getting gradually wetter and the slight shivers and sniffles that let out the mouth of the one with blonde, almost white, hair. His cry was silently, and for a light of moment, Crow remembered his own cry, which could be described as any other, just a bit louder and with rumpled clothes.

 Shook lightly his head, focusing in the present, in the possibilities, the sentences and words that would say after the storm. His mind felt lethargic and yet running in full speed almost at the same time. Combing Az’s hair and gave small, but big in meaning, pecks in his neck without even noticing.

 The time lost meaning in this piece of time.

 A hand tapped softly his back and the head slightly lifted. It was the signal to break the touch, and it was promptly obeyed.

 “Do you want to talk about this?” His voice was a special whisper, packed, designated and delivered to just one being in the entire universe.

 “There is nothing to be said.” Even with everything, his voice still lacking major flaws or slips, it was of a calm, sad nature. “It is just…” And the owner of hundreds of books, reader for thousands years and maestro of words ended up losing himself in them.

 ‘It’s just…’  Crow wondered if even the humans, at some point of their existence, could understand all the feelings and sensations between the lines that this phrase could possess.

 Probably.

 Everyone does, in some way or another, doesn’t it?

 The black-haired never paid much attention to time, especially after such thing already fulfilled its basic function of lead him as far as possible from that particular century. However, this day, he almost could see the sand of hourglass pouring grain-by-grain as he let the angel running his fingers through his hair, pressing his back on the blonde’s sweater and stroking the back of the other’s hand with his thumb. His warmth and presence were the necessary reminders that Az needed to focus on the here, in the Bookstore rocked by this ordinary night, and now, with the best company he could ever wish to be.

 A piece more of time was spent. Maybe two, three, and perhaps a little more.

 …

 “We should go out.”

 “What are you rambling about, Crow love? We always go out.”

 “No. I mean… for something different! Not just a lunch.”

 “A day to wander, you mean?”

 “Maybe.” Shrugged, pondering, the tongue absently wriggling in the ar. Az tightened a bit more the touch, feeling lighter as allow his mind travel and dance between some possibilities for the future meaning of this conversation. “We should make a picnic!”

 “A picnic?’

 “Yes! In any place, nearby or far away! We could take the food or milacre there. I can give you a ride.”

 His head turned, his heart floating and expanding when he saw that the trail of tears had faded from his husband’s face, and now the red was also beginning to gradually leave his skin.

 Az pondered for a few minutes, eyes glomming.

 “I don’t think I’ve ever married at a picnic before.” Smiled, and part of his soul melted with the beauty in the other’s happy expression, along with the smile that also was painted in the demon’s face, he was absolutely sure.

 “Let me tempt you, then.” Crow hissed, carrying on their internal joke, since they, after their last wedding-lunch, decided that from now on there would be no more dates, only weddings.

 Az raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful disbelief look. Their foreheads met. The angel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling a light, which came neither from the stars, cars, poles and nor the living room lamp, little by little filling his being.

 “I love you, Aziraphale.” Their eyes met.

 “I love you, my husband.”

 Perhaps they had spent some time like this, in silence, enjoying themselves. Perhaps they had slowly moved away right after the talk, holding hands, a warm feeling in their chest. Who really knows? It is a moment only for them, so let it be.

“The preparations should be started, then!” The one with blue limpid eyes, now up, excitedly leaded to the kitchen. “Milacre a massive amount of food certainly would alert your side just as mine, so, I believe the best option we got is cook by our own.”

 Crow scowled, which evolved to as annoyed expression as received the lightly incisive and inquisitive look from the other, puffing up his cheeks and deviating the glare as he dispirited followed his steps into the other room.

 “Fffffffine.” Gave up of the dream to sleep that night. However, deep inside, he knew worth it just to watch the blonde-haired angel calmly, excited walking his eyes and fingers through the Recipe Books were under his care. Urg. The sacrifices that must be made. “But I’m not using a patterned apron!”

 And the cars drove through the streets, the stars hardly glowed in the sky and the worlds kept not an even bit silent during that sunless hours, just as any other night of any other day. Nevertheless, on that store, more specifically a Bookstore, at that moment and for those two, maybe this wasn’t a common night anymore, and would definitely lead to a day not even a little ordinary, either.

 A recipe book was open, some bright smiles (maybe trying to help the stars?) too.

 “Sure, my dear. I would never…” replied Az, trying to decide which color would most highlight Crow’s duck patterned pajamas.

#angst fluff #But just a little angst #I can't help it #Write Az crying broke my heart #Az #Crow #Good Omens #Good Omens AU #This is from Dolphins and Ducks AU #Aziraphale #Crowley #I think that when they're being really serious they call the other by his entire name #Short oneshot #KaneneFic #KaneneArt #Sorry any mistakes I'm so sleepy xD #They're so lovely I just can't- *sobbing* #I wanna hug #Picnic #I wanna write about Zira and AJ but I didn't watch the show yet aaaaa

[torentialtribute]

The Open 2019 preview: Rory McIlroy factor, big crowds and bad weather

How the hell do you follow that sporting Sunday? The unenviable task of taking up the slack in this breathless summer has fallen to the Open . Perhaps it is good that the 148th edition happens to be one of the most anticipated at the time.

In the next four days, in front of the largest crowd for every Open staged outside St Andrews, the best event in the game, heralds a new chapter with the introduction of a beautiful shade of green.

Scotland will always be the home of golf, but there is passion, respect and sheer exuberance for the game in Ireland, north and south, which is completely intoxicating. We all know the reasons why it has not been staged here in the north for 68 years, but it is a serious injustice that has now been blessedly made good.

<img id = "i-3609950f3c4266ea" src = "https://ift.tt/2xPIlm9 image-a-45_1563395525141.jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" <img id = "i-3609950f3c4266ea" src = "https://ift.tt/305gPND /17/21/16180468-0-image-a-45_1563395525141.jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" General view of the 13th hole in the Royal Portrush during a practice session before The Open General view of the 13th hole of Royal Portrush during a practice round for The Open

The first ball has not yet been hit, but the R & A are already planning the sequel. & # 39; Many more Opens in Portrush for the coming years & # 39 ;, Martin Slumbers, the director of R & A, radiated. & # 39;

From the moment the local boy with the misty eyes Darren Clarke the & # 39; I don't think we've ever been to a location before & gets

With some majors, such as the US PGA championship in May, it won't happen. , you could see the winner from a reasonable distance.

Adding the classic Open flavors of happiness and unpredictability is the fact that we are promised all kinds of weather conditions in the coming four days, from sometimes strengthening breezes to vicious showers and, yes

If the weather forecast for Thursday turns out to be accurate, it doesn't sound good news for Rory McIlroy and his home army of followers, with the wind to be picked up shortly after the pick up. start of his round. But it's just a prediction.

Rory McIlroy receives a lot of support from his army of fans in his native Northern Ireland "

Rory McIlroy receives a lot of support from his army of fans in his native Northern Ireland

Rory McIlroy receives a lot of support from his army of fans in his native Northern Ireland

[Portwest] is usually a job where long riders may deploy the driver no more than two or three times, but this year the fairways are green instead of brown and the muscle people may be tempted to shoulder their shoulders more than the norm In recent majors, the Americans have established a pattern of domination that has quickly reached the unprecedented stage since Europe became a power with the arrival of Seve Ballesteros in the late 1970s.

Nine of the last 10 majors have fallen to US golfers and while the Open is the one where they have been the least successful. t, they would certainly be pleased with the continuation of the winners trend over the past six years – in turn, these come from America, Europe, America, Europe, America, Europe.

If this continues, they will complete the first clean flight of all four majors by Americans in the same season since 1982.

Leading the American challenge is of course the man who did a lot of damage – Brooks Koepka, with his 1-2-1-2 run in the last four have played majors and four wins from the last nine.

nine majors he played in

Sir Nick Faldo has declared that we are the Koepka have entered, but he will have to do something about his mediocre Open record before he is considered the complete golfer.

Koepka led after the first round in 2017, but he has reached the age of 29 without a single top five finish.

If the run continues, he will be able to discover if he is in the right place.

After all the excitement of the first major, what the total had been is a total anti-climax for the man who won the Masters. It is nevertheless a consolation to enter the season. Last major knows that it will still be a great year, regardless of the outcome. Winning a green jacket does that for a man.

THREE TO WIN

Gone about his company, as always, without fuss or fanfare. Brooks Koepka

Mediocre Open record with not one top five finish – but one of the few golfers who has completed one of the few golfers to complete a successful golfer. How can you tolerate a man who has gone 1-2-1-2 in the last four majors? 19459002

Xander Schauffele

The type of golfer that Opens wins. Under the radar, straight off the T-piece, uniform temperament – and an embankment of a good putter

THREE EVERY ROAD BETS

Haotong Li

Eddie Pepperell

Nothing to shout from the rooftops on his recent record,

Flush it on the range on Wednesday and in its element when it is on a link. If not the captain of Ryder Cup next year (Padraig Harrington), why not the one (19459002)

Lee Westwood

? There is a chance that at least one of them will go well.

Who is the European who can break the trend? Of the two most obvious suspects, there is a terrible weight on Rory & # 39; s shoulders, while Justin Rose did not sound like a man convinced that he had his Openings good in this year of change in the majors.

Jon Rahm hardly had any confidence anymore and had just won an Irish Open two years after collecting another one later in Portstewart. This should also be a fertile area for artists such as Tommy Fleetwood, Danny Willett and Eddie Pepperell.

These were lean times for golfers from outside Europe and America when it comes to winning majors. , but the two sweet swingers, Adam Scott from Australia and the South African Louis Oosthuizen will be the silent imagination of many.

At 6:30 am on Thursdays at every Open you see the small grandstand at the first about half – full and a few friends and relatives of the players involved moved along the channel. With this, you just know that it will be radically different for the great moment of Clarke, and the start of a whole new ball game for the oldest event in golf.

No promises with a finish like the cricket or tennis last Sunday But this Open holds the promise of the unforgettable.

6.57: A Sullivan, C Bezuidenhout (SA), A Levy (F ).

6.46: E Grillo (Arg), Sung Kang (Kor), * T Thurloway. ] S (S), R Langasque (F), * M Schmid (G),

7.30: P Harrington, M Fitzpatrick, A Putnam (USA)

7.41: B Watson (US), E Pepperell, R Cabrera Bello: P Mickelson (US), S Lowry, B Grace (SA).

8.03: A Noren (Swe), M Lorenzo-Vera (F), S Locke. Simpson (USA), S Garcia (Sp), CT Pan (Tpe). 8.25: R Palmer (USA), A Pavan (It), D Frittelli (SA).

: K Stanley (US), R MacIntyre, Johnston.

8.47: M Korhonen (Fin), O Wilson, * C Knipes.

9.14: H Stenson (Swe), X Schauffele (US), McDowell G.

9.03: I Poulter, Sunjae Im (Kor), K Aphibarnrat (Tha). 9.25: Li Haotong (Chn), R Knox, B Wiesberger (Au).

9.36: J Kokrak (USA), C Syme, A Connelly (Can). Johnson (USA), D Duval (USA), C Conners (Can).

9.58: F Molinari (It), A Scott (A), B DeChambeau: R McIlroy, P Casey, G Woodland (USA)

10.20: H Matsuyama (Jpn), R Fowler (USA), K Kisner (USA)

10.31: J Furyk (19459005)

10.43: S-list (USA), A Bjork (Swe), P Waring. J Meyer, M Lashley (USA), B Hebert (Fra)

11.04: M Horikawa (Jpn), C Shinkwin, G Porteous

Baldwin, J Senior.

11.46: T Lehman (USA), J Niemann (Chl), MA Jimenez (19459002) 12.09pm: S Cink (A), CA (C) ( C) (C) (19459002)

11.58: J Dahmen US Arnaus Sp.

12.20: E Van Rooyen (SA), K Kitayama (USA), J McLeod (A), R Sabbatini (Svk), Innchoon Hwang

12.53: T (a), T Hatton, K Mitchell (USA), T Pieters (Bel), R Fox (NZ), S Norris (SA), Dongkyu Jang Fleetwood, J Thomas (USA), T Olesen (Den)

1.04: B Koepka (USA), L Oosthuizen (SA), S Sharma (19459002) 1.37: J Spieth (USA), M Leishman (A), D Willett

1.37: C Smith (USA), A Wise ( USA), J Janewattananond (Tha) A, A Hadwin (Can), D Lipsky (USA)

1.48: P Lawrie, C Reavie (USA), J Harding (SA).

2.15: L Glover (US), J Luiten (Hol), N Bertasio (It).

2.04: * T Kanaya (Jpn), T Lewis, B Stone

2.37: B Snedeker (US), L Westwood, B Harman (US).

2.19: E Els (SA), JB Holmes (US), A Ancer (Mex). 2.59: D Johnson (US), J Day (A), K Bradley (US)

2.48: T Finau (US), L Bjerregaard (Den), J Rose. 3.21: J Rahm (Sp), M Kuchar (US), P Cantlay (US).

3.10: T Woods (US), M Wallace, P Reed (US)

3.43: to Otaegui (Sp), Y Ikeda (Jpn), I Benitez (Mex).

3.32: K Streelman (US), D Redman (US), R Rock.

4.05: Y Fujimoto (Jpn), Doyeob Mun (Kor), A Wilson

GB and Ireland, unless otherwise stated.

All times BST –

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