#only pausing to take cheap shots at the poor guy

[luckydxy]

Ara : You can't tell me what to do!! Haskill : *silently rolls up a newspaper* Ara : Mercy!!  Please!! I didn’t mean it! I'll do anything you say!!  Haskill : *silently unrolls the newspaper*

#;;headcanon #;;ooc #;;shitposting #every day is haskill appreciation day #ara 'I'm a God now' loft vs has 'go to your fucking room this instant' kill #haskill : 2453366335528884 #ara : 0 #who's keeping track ? probably dyus #dyus begging for death while haskill & ara ignore him to bicker about something dumb & inconsequential #only pausing to take cheap shots at the poor guy #but everyday i wake up & think about how sheo essentially leaves ara to haskill w/ a lil bow on her head & a note reading 'pls feed' #haskill inherits this brat & most responsibility over her. #sure she's technically in charge. but he's the one stuck rearing up a young daedric prince per sheogorath's final wishes.

[youryanderedaddy]

Hello, do you accept order? If yes, you could make a single one shot of Yandere! Brat Spoiled, please...

What would it be like if Yandere were the son of wealthy parents who always have everything they want, when they don't always get what they like, always act like a spoiled brat (and also his parents are afraid of their son, as they have already seen what he is capable of when he gets angry)... that's where the reader comes in. She is a new student at school, a nice and kind person, so the yandere knows her and falls in love so strongly that she never felt that way in life, but the reader is always rejecting her advances for being a spoiled brat and the way he treats the people around you.

What happens next?

Title: Eat the poor

Tw: non - consensual touching, obsessive/possessive behavior, violence, low-key bullying, blackmail / coercion, reader is in university

Part 2

It had started during your very first year of college, back when you still felt motivated to go to school and meet new people. You had heard the rumors about him before ever meeting his gaze and oh, did they disappoint.

You met Gabrielle for the first time when the snowdrops bloomed and the birds returned home – in the early autumn, at night, in a small crowded room reeking of alcohol, sweat and cheap cologne which you quickly realized wasn’t his. The man smelt like the cigarettes he never got bored of and sweet caramel. He was wearing a big leather jacket and a pair of dark jeans, yet the simplicity of the outfit seemed to suit the expensive brands displayed on the clothing. In a way the student represented the typical youthful boyish beauty with his golden locks, eyes the color of the sky and frame tall and well – built. Yet his face remained motionless the whole night and his body stayed still despite the mass of bodies dancing around in rhythm. But then some poor unfortunate fool managed to bump into the male, spilling his drink all over him, and his pretty face quickly twisted into a mask of disgust and anger.

“You stupid piece of shit!” The male yelled shortly after as his fist connected with the stuttering boy’s stomach. His clear eyes were now two wild thunderstorms pouring rain and lightning over the tipsy guy who was nervously apologizing and promising to pay for the damages done. “Do you know how much this costs?” Gabrielle spat with venom and pushed the other onto the floor, bringing his black sneakers to that white shirt until there was a mark of dirt formed on the otherwise clean fabric. Everyone else in the room had stopped drinking now and all the eyes were pinned onto the two men yet no one had the courage to do anything. Your own heart was beating hard in your chest at the sudden display of unnecessary violence but you had always been a calm kid, a kind soul too scared of its own shadow to learn how to fight properly. So you had no idea what to do.

“My father can have you expelled, you know.” The blond man suddenly spoke out in a quiet eerie voice as he pressed his foot harder into the shorter boy’s stomach causing him to whimper and squirm. “Unless you are willing to beg for my forgiveness, that is.” The bully proposed with a sly smirk on his pink lips as he glared at the victim underneath. The student on the ground was clenching his eyes tight so no one could see the tears in them when he shook his head no. You finally decided you couldn’t let this inhumane scene go any further.

“Stop this madness right now!” You shouted manically, drawing all the attention to yourself as you made your way between the two men. Gabrielle immediately pinned his burning gaze on you in unhidden intrigue. “This is too cruel. He didn’t mean to bump into you. Please, leave him alone.” As much as you had wanted to curse at the spoiled rich boy there was this suffocating feeling in your lungs telling you to be careful and play the mediator. The others quickly started gasping and some were already gossiping at your reaction proving your point that the guy was indeed dangerous.

Then he looked you straight in the eyes with his deep blue ones. He chuckled softly before smacking his lips in an unpleasant way, his “tsk” sending shivers down your spine. You had fucked up. “Well, well, well… Looks like the new girl wants to play hero. How cliché.” The bully grinned as he let his gaze roam up and down your body, your cheeks turning red in return when having realized he was handsome even while doing something so vulgar. “But if you do want to help him so badly…” The golden – haired man paused for a moment pretending to be deep in thought. “Maybe we could have a little deal, bunny.” He moved his leg away from the sobbing boy and stepped in front of you. From this close you could feel the warmth of his skin and the sweet aroma of burnt sugar it radiated. Gabrielle tilted your chin up almost gently and whispered in your ear “Kiss me.”

You tried to break free from the uncomfortable pose but the student simply squeezed your jaw line harder, his eyes cold and calculating, following your every move. You mind went blank and foggy at the forced intimacy and you couldn’t think straight with his breath on your neck. It felt like the time had slowed down just so the sadistic snob could mess with you a little longer. You opened your mouth to voice your protests but fortunately you didn’t have to say anything because at the very same time the host of the party appeared, ready to stop the fight.

“Gabrielle, I’d have to ask you to leave.” The dark – haired junior growled enraged as he pushed the taller male away from you. You couldn’t help but smile at him in appreciation. He was the only one brave enough to help you after all. “You are ruining the party for everyone. ” The stranger continued. The blonde seemed irritated at the sudden interruptance yet it was obvious he was powerless against the owner of the house. Still he grit his teeth and signed in annoyance as he turned to face the host. “Fuck you, Jackson!” The man cursed but eventually moved towards the door, red with anger. “My father will hear about this.” He looked at you as he reached for the golden doorknob, his features softened. “See you around, bunny.”

This was the first time you met Gabrielle. You already wished it was the last.

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

After the incident the snob seemed interested in you, blatantly so. He would eye you up in the halls like you were a shiny new toy in a claw machine and try to strike a conversation no matter how much you ignored him. The man never once apologized for what happened at the party but at least he didn’t bring it up so you counted it as a small victory. You gradually understood just how much power and money the heir had. His father owned casinos, hotels, banks and apparently even the university you two were studying in received major monthly donations by the big businessman. This explained why everyone was so scared of the blonde, especially when he did nothing but flaunt his status at the slightest inconvenience. And now he wanted you.

In your eyes the boy was just an annoying brat who lived off daddy’s hard work, there really wasn’t much to him that intrigued you. The male was handsome, pretty even, but his grades were terrible and his interests were bland and shallow, mostly involving expensive brands and grand parties. But the worst thing about him was his personality. The snob treated his friends like servants and his enemies like dirt, but you he rather saw as a challenge. Gabrielle would ask you out every time you were unlucky enough to run into him. The first time the man gave you so many roses you couldn’t even count them, the second he demanded your affection with a silver necklace in hand ready to cover your neck in his mark of ownerships. You couldn’t recall all the other gifts the blonde used to try and court you with but you remembered refusing each and every one.

“Why can’t you just give me a chance?” He exclaimed one day after you had just returned the expensive bracelet you had found in your locker. It was a dark winter night and the heir seemed irritated with you for the first time, his eyes a deep electric blue just like the sky. The man had you cornered against the wall but you were used to his pathetic attempts at intimidation. Yet today there was something different in the air around him, some small voice at the back of your head wondered whether this time he wasn’t just joking around. “Are you still angry about that little wimp I expelled, bunny?” Gabrielle asked contemptuously yet his pupils remained cold and distant. Once again he was too close for your liking, too close for you to function properly, but that was probably exactly what he wanted. You to be compliant and obedient like all the others who crawled and kneeled at the very sight of him. “Or are you sulking because I beat up Jones after he asked you out, hmm?” What? The blonde man was the one who gave Tony the black eye? But he had told you it was just a street fight… Why had your friend covered for the bully you both hated?

“Why would you do that to him?” You whispered, staring at the twisted boy in front of you. Your heart was beating fast and your blood was boiling hot in your veins but you couldn’t let him win by showing him how much his actions affected you. Gabrielle reached out and cupped your cheek gently before smirking mischievously. “He was trying to take something that belonged to me.” The heir said casually as if he was talking about the weather. His fingers were cold against your warm skin and you fought the urge to vomit right then and there. “I am not yours.” You spat out with poison and pushed his hand away from your face. Next thing you know his knee was separating your thighs, lifting your short black skirt up, his breath lingering on your neck. “S-stop.” You stuttered and tried to squirm out of his hold but the man easily caught your wrists and brought them above your head, pinning you further into the wall. He was stronger than he looked and you felt so small and helpless in that moment you could have cried if your stubbornness hadn’t prevailed.

“What don’t you like about me?” The blonde suddenly spoke out, his voice unnaturally broken and needy, bordering on a whine, crying out in desperation. You weren’t sure whether he was trying to manipulate you now or if he actually wanted you to answer so you decided to be honest anyways. “I hate the way you treat other people. I could never love someone as cruel as you.” You inhaled deeply, ready to voice all the painful thoughts you had kept inside since the beginning of the semester. “You are spoilt rotten. Metaphorically and literally.” The man was breathing sharply like a wounded animal after hearing your words and as much as you wanted to sympathize with him, you couldn’t bring yourself to after everything he had done to you and your friends. He was irredeemable. “Let me go.” You finally demanded, hoping to use him weakened emotional state to your advantage.

Instead Gabrielle clenched his teeth and squeezed down harder on your already bruised wrists causing you to whimper in dull pain. His eyes were wet but the tears had finally stopped just like his willingness to show you his vulnerable side. The man had tried being nice and sweet to you, patient, then mean and patronizing, and neither worked. So obviously it was time to become the terrifying bratty monster everyone was so keen on believed he was.

“Have you noticed how many people seem to go missing after talking to you just once?” The heir whispered in your ear as his free hand traveled down to your waist, drawing you into his hard chest. You groaned at the sudden realization that the snob was actually right, less and less guys seemed to show up to your shared lectures in the last few months, but you had always assumed they just needed a break from school. University was stressful after all. “Did you…” You started off but couldn’t find the right words. Did you force your father to expel them? Did you harm them? Maybe a part of you didn’t want to know the answer. “I did.” Gabrielle responded before you could even finish the sentence. The sly smirk you knew way too well adorned his lips and it wasn’t hard to see he had already won. “And I will keep doing it until you agree to be mine and mine alone.” The man stated confidently as he sucked the sensitive skin of your neck until you arched your back in shock, your eyes rolling up to the ceiling. “N-nhgg.” You whimpered as you felt his teeth dig into your warm flesh leaving a scarlet mark for all to see. “Come on, baby, we both know you are too good to let them suffer because of your own selfishness.” He taunted you as he left a line of small wet kisses along your exposed collarbone. You wanted to argue, to yell at him how you weren’t the crazy, selfish one, but deep down you knew it was pointless. Gabrielle had power and you had nothing to bargain with. He could have anyone yet he wanted to torment you. “Give into me. I promise I can make you happy if you let me.” The blonde uttered softly as his lips brushed against yours, almost touching them, following your reaction with his clear eyes. Your own were puffy and red from the tears but he didn’t seem to care much about your misery and discomfort. The man wished to own, not to please, but you couldn’t do anything. And of course you wouldn’t let him ruin the lives of the innocent. Of course your stupid heart was too good and human for your own good. So you closed your eyes and slowly connected your lips with him even though they tasted almost metallic, like blood and defeat.

“I knew you would come around, bunny.”

#yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yancore #yandere oneshot #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere concepts

[deniigi]

So @petrichordiam and I are menaces and giggled over our ideal dinluke flower shop AU for like 4 hrs and then I wrote this.

Title: murderer next door

Summary: Din works as a florist and Luke works as a bookseller and they’re both assassins trying to keep the other off their turf.

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

Two times now, Luke had crashed past that flower shop, and two times now, the fucker inside had taken out his mark. Now all Luke had to say about the whole thing was that it was too bad that he was going to have to kill the guy.

Han told him not to turn back. The mark was dead; the mark was gone. They weren’t fast enough this time, but there would be others.

Luke just couldn’t let it go, though. He had rent to pay, and McFloristApron over there was smashing through all his targets and making that nigh impossible—regardless of how many marks there were in the area.

Luke waited until Han had closed up shop for the night and remained there in the dark with his arm slung over the back of the chair in the backroom, surrounded by books. He rolled his shot of whiskey in its tumbler. The sound against the old wood table offered no comfort.

He stood up and left the glass to get his laptop.

He wasn’t losing to some florist, Han, sorry. Only one family could take innocuous cover on this street, and it was them.

 ---

McFlorist’s name wasn’t listed on the florist’s staff page, but then again, none of the people on that page had names. In fact, the website’s whole vibe was all wedding-chic until you clicked on the ‘staff and contacts’ tab. Then, it may as well have been a line of mugshots.

Luke squinted along the row of increasingly involved headgear until he got to someone with a reasonably-sized neck with no tats. The ladies on either side of him appeared to have sapped all the ink out of McFloristApron. He wore a mask over the lower half of his face and gave a stoic thumbs up to the camera.

Under his picture was the number fifteen.

Damn.

Luke was only making eight per pop. Who the hell was this guy eating up all the feeder fish, huh? Them lower division folks had to eat too, you know.

Well.

‘Lower division’ in a sense of the word. Being two times undercover wasn’t super glamorous, Luke had to say. But when your dad fucked it up for the first family, sometimes you had to take what you could get.

Luke pointed at Fifteen on the screen.

“You and me, pal,” he said. “You and me.”

 --

 Step one was to get paid first.

Luke chased down three marks on the other side of town to pay the rent and the medical bills for now. His hand’s new sleeve felt like a dream. It didn’t overheat like the nylon black one did, and the hand was far less shiny now as a bonus. That had certainly reduced the number of people catching something move out of the corner of their eye.

Was it worth fifty grand?

No.

Was it worth the last nine that Luke had left to pay on it?

Yeah. It was definitely worth the nine.

 ------

 Step two was to go make it clear to Fifteen McFlorist that he and his folks needed to back down in the face of the established guard.

Luke put on his biggest sweater and the thickest glasses he could find. He stole Chewie’s messenger bag with all the pins on it. He slung it over his shoulder and rolled the hems of his jeans up just a smidge too much, then scurried over to the florist’s across the way.

Fifteen was off to the side of the register, fucking around with something in the refrigerator. Luke busily and noisily looked through the wall of foliage on the side of the shop nearest the window. He hummed. He hawed. He made anxious nerd-sounds until a voice asked, “Hi, can I help you?”

Luke glanced out of the corner of his eye and found that Fifteen was standing facing his way now. His mask was gray this time. His apron was orange. His boots were too heavy-looking for florist work.

“I’d love that,” Luke gushed breathlessly. “See, my mom just got engaged and I’m on the way to her house.”

Fifteen lifted his chin slightly.

“What’re her favorites?” he asked tonelessly.

Terrible customer service skills, dude.

“Roses,” Luke said.

“Ours are shit today,” Fifteen said. “How about dahlias?”

Luke didn’t know what those were but sure.

“That sounds great,” he said. “You have any in pink?”

 --------

 He watched Fifteen brutalize some pink, orange, and white flowers into a bouquet wrapped with a silver bow and was sure to smile every time the guy looked up.

“That’ll be $37.59.”

Sir, these are dead flowers. There is no need for that price.

“Can I put it on card?” Luke asked. “How long have you worked here, if you don’t mind me asking? I work just across the way is all.”

Fifteen’s dark gaze flicked up. His hair was covered by a gray beanie two shades darker than the mask.

“At the club?” he asked.

“The bookshop,” Luke corrected him with a shy, but widening smile.

Please be gay. Please be gay. Please be gay. Leia wasn’t going to want to cooperate. She thought it was beneath her to establish boundaries like this.

“Blue paint,” Fifteen said. “Yeah, that place. How long have you been there?”

“My brother-in-law’s place, actually,” Luke said. “I started there last year after I finished college.”

Or, you know, maybe even eight years ago when he’d finished college. No one had to know. Baby faces don’t kiss and tell after all.

“Huh. You must like it there,” Fifteen said.

“It’s fine,” Luke hummed. “You like it here?”

“The kid does.”

“Oh, you’re a father?” Luke asked. “How old?”

“He’s three,” Fifteen said. “Godson. His folks were in an accident; didn’t make it.”

“That’s terrible, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Luke said. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Fifteen handed him his card back. Luke’s hand didn’t close in time to catch it and it fell onto to the wooden counter.

“Sorry about that,” Luke said, reaching for it with the other hand. His knuckles bumped into Fifteen’s when he went for the card at the same time. They both paused and went for the card again with the same result. Luke laughed.

“Slippery, am I right?” he asked, flattening his fingers on top of the piece of plastic and snatching it away.

“Very,” Fifteen said. “I hope your mom likes them.”

“Me too,” Luke smiled. “I’ll see you around—What was your name?”

“You can call me Armando,” Fifteen said.

“Armando,” Luke sounded out. “It suits you.”

It was a falsie.

“And yours?”

“James.”

“It suits you.”

It didn’t.

“Bye now,” Luke said. “Thanks for your help.”

He let the door fall closed behind him with the tinkle of the bell.

 --------

 He informed Han that “Armando” had a toddler and received only a warning look and a scolding for all his effort. Han told him not to get jealous. If there was a kid in the balance, then Fifteen, for better or worse, was going to have to see each day after the next until there was no longer a kid in the balance.

Luke offered to call CPS and report “Armando” as an assassin.

“You do that and those folks across the street are gonna call the VA and tell them I’m an assassin,” Han said. “Lay low, Luke. Lay low.”

Never.

“Christ. At least until that thing’s yours then.”

Luke glared at his right hand.

“Gimme a double,” he told Han without looking away from it.

 ------------

 It was never easy to hunt in the daylight, but Luke wasn’t here to do easy things. He needed to get Mark No. 1 alone. The man took the train once a week to a gentleman’s club on his lunch break. Luke needed a change of clothes.

He had a rainbow windbreaker, white boots, and fishnets all ready to go.

He got on the same train as the mark and dropped his phone nearby. It clattered loudly and the case came off. Luke swore and squatted to drop it at the same time that two girls next to him decided to become good Samaritans. They crouched with him and one of them caught the phone first. They handed it back with a smile.

“I like your jacket,” she said.

Luke let his face struggle to find a smile at her kindness to him, a sweet little twink trying to find the pride parade that happened two weeks ago.

“Thanks,” he said. “I like your bracelet.”

He stood up. The girls were pleased with themselves. Luke glanced back to find Mark No. 1 turn his head abruptly away.

Come here, Markie.

Do you like what you see?

  Mark No. 1 didn’t make it out of his hotel room. A pity. Luke took the elevator down and huffed and puffed about a cheap date when he passed the front desk. He stopped abruptly and went back to ask the receptionist what the cross street was. She judged his go-go boots.

He told her she wasn’t his type. Her manager gave him the cross street.

Mark No. 2 had different parameters.

 ----------

 Mark No. 2’s parameters involved chasing him through a maze of boiler rooms and dumpsters. He was chump change towards a hand that Luke hadn’t wanted in the first place, but alas. The anger still roared.

Luke cornered him, still in go-go boots—no need to sacrifice style for speed—and watched those pale eyes look every which way as Mark No. 2 realized that there was no getting out of this.

“You got options, friend,” Luke said. “I can bring you in hot or I can bring you in—”

“—cold.”

His head snapped up and he lurched out of the way just as the crack of a bullet exploded in the alley. A car backfired around the corner in a sympathetic cough. Luke stared at the body then twisted around just in time for a thick glove to latch onto the back of his neck.

“Well, look who it is,” Fifteen drawled.

Luke glared out of the corner of his eye.

“Hands off, Armando,” he warned.

“I like your boots.”

“You’re gonna love ‘em when they’re on your dick,” Luke warned.

“Back off, Nayberry.”

Fucking hell, Han. This is why they should have set up boundaries weeks ago.

“I prefer ‘James,’” Luke said sweetly.

The glock levelled at his face didn’t care.

“You took my mark,” Fifteen said.

“Aw, poor baby,” Luke pouted. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you took mine.”

Fifteen’s orange apron was gone. He’d swapped it for an old leather jacket—something he could more easily wipe clean. He should’ve gone for patent leather. The brown really wasn’t working with his grey mask-beanie situation.

“Stay in your lane,” Fifteen warned.

“Only if you stay in yours,” Luke beamed.

Fifteen huffed.

“Bookstore,” he scoffed. “Who’d you give the flowers to?”

Luke tsked.

“Myself, jackass,” he said.

“Do you even have a mom?”

“What the fuck business is that of yours? You even got a kid?”

Fifteen’s stare was deadly—the cooling body before them notwithstanding.

“Take one step near him and we won’t be talkin’ so friendly, yeah?”

Mm. Yeah.

“You owe me four grand,” Luke informed Fifteen as the glock went down and Fifteen left him to go take a pulse.

The man’s back stiffened.

“Four?” he asked. “You took this job for four?”

Luke rolled his eyes.

“I got bills, Armando,” he drawled.

“How do you keep that shed open? Have you sold even one book?”

Rude. Luke was a great sales associate. If he actually cared to put his mind to it, he’d be worthy of a promotion to manager.

He pulled the rising legs of his shorts down and adjusted the weapon in his windbreaker. He couldn’t leave the alley the way he’d gone into it. Someone might have seen. He was going to have to take a side street. Hmmm, which one? Choices, choices.

“I’ll give you a Dad’s discount. Gimme two grand, and you can have him,” Luke negotiated as he thought.

“Two.”

Hey, no need for that tone. This was a great deal.

“What’re you gonna do with two?” Fifteen asked, already knelling down to heft the body over his shoulder as proof for payment.

“Buy some more tights,” Luke deadpanned. “Two, final offer.”

Fifteen stood up all the way and gave him a weird look. A long look. His beanie was pulled down low, but Luke got the impression that he was frowning at him.

“Take the four,” he said out of nowhere. “I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

Luke recoiled a step at first, then recoiled another when the reality of the situation hit him full in the chest.

“Forget it,” he snapped.

He spun around and started to leave.

“Wh—hey. HEY. Where are you goin’?”

“I don’t need your fuckin’ pity,” Luke called ahead of him as he set to climbing the chainlink fence separating him from the adjacent dead-end alley.

“You what?”

“You heard me,” Luke said.

He jumped down. His left hand found his right wrist and squeezed as he walked.

 -------

 The phantom pains kept him up all night, and it was definitely that and not the humiliation that made him call in sick. Han told him to answer his therapist’s emails. Luke told him to go do something useful and hung up. He rolled onto his back on his bed and focused on letting his body relax, his jaw unclench, his joints go limp.

There was sunlight finally streaming through his apartment windows again. It had been months.

Spring was almost here. He just had to hold out a little longer.

 --------

 He came in to work the next day and found an envelope on his chair in the backroom. It was thick.

“McFlorist dropped it off,” he said between aggravated sounds at his spreadsheets.

“Is it tax season already?” Luke asked him as he tried to burn a whole in the center of the envelope with his mind.

“Sure fuckin’ is.”

He stepped forward and snatched up the envelope, then deposited it squarely in Han’s lap. He made an unattractive noise of confusion and alarm.

“For the taxes,” Luke called as he went out to grab his lanyard and name tag. “Gotta keep this place open for another six months at least.”

 ------------

 There were new books in. A new shipment to shelve. Two kids’ displays to set up. And Luke was actually good at this stuff, thanks; he started stacking.

He got peace until he nearly got to the end of the second display, and then what he had was a heart attack. Two liquid brown eyes surrounded by an ocean of ringlets stared up at him from between his knees. The child curled a hand in and out in hello.

Luke jerked himself up to locate the thing’s parents immediately, and promptly found himself in deadly eye-contact with Fifteen.

Armando.

“You were gone yesterday,” Fifteen said flatly.

Luke looked between him and the kid. He was pinned between two enemy parties. How to escape, how to escape.

“Are you sick?”

How to escape. How to escape. How to escape.

“Are you hurt?”

H—what?

“I’m fine, stalker,” Luke snapped with more heat than this present cover allowed. He caught himself and pulled it back. “I’m fine,” he repeated. “Thank you for asking. Is this…?”

Fifteen blinked once. The child blinked once as well. It was creepy.

“He’s mine,” Fifteen said. “And apparently the only thing that will get us through the next two hours is a book.”

Dude.

“Kids are kids,” Fifteen said. “You got any books?”

Luke stared at him, then checked the shelves to make sure he hadn’t teleported into another dimension.

You always had to check.

“We’re in a bookstore,” he said.

“He can’t read,” Fifteen said, pointing.

The kid grinned. His teeth were gapped in that toddler sort of way. He was kind of cute.

“You can’t read?” Luke asked him.

“Hi,” Baby said.

Oh no.

Luke loved him.

“How much?” he asked Fifteen.

“Touch him and you’ll be permanently comatose,” Fifteen said.

“Not if I died out of spite,” Luke said.

There was a long pause. Then Fifteen started laughing? Kind of hard?

“Oh my god, that was so unprofessional. I am so sorry,” Luke blurted out.

Fifteen collected himself and shook his head. His little one giggled and reached for Luke’s fingers.

“Boo,” he said.

Luke couldn’t feel the hand, but he could feel all the heart.

“Book?” he asked, crouching down. “Do you want a story?”

“Mmmm.”

“I have the perfect one,” Luke told him. “It’s about a caterpillar. Do you know what a caterpillar is?”

He got a slow, exaggerated head shake back and forth, back and forth. He stood up straight.

“I’m conducting a temporary kidnapping,” he informed Fifteen. “Do I have consent?”

Fifteen looked from him towards the front entrance and mulled over the merits of leaving his kid with his rival assassin. Then he shrugged.

“Consent granted,” he said. “Luke.”

Luke’s heart stopped.

“James,” he said.

“Your name tag says ‘Luke.’”

Well, fuck.

“Luke Nayberry. It suits you.”

Hhhhhhh. This was karma, wasn’t it.

“Thanks,” he gritted out. “And yourself, Armando?”

“Din.”

Woah, look out. Mr. One-Syllable-Cool-Man had entered the building.

“Din, what?” Luke asked as his arm registered tension. Din’s kid had latched onto his fingers and started pulling incessantly with a chubby hand gesturing in the direction of the wall of children’s books.

“Don’t you worry about it,” Din said.

“Fine, go trip then,” Luke said.

He swore that there was a smile under that mask.

 ----------

#dinluke #luke skywalker #ficlet #fic #I can't take any trope seriously it turns out #perhaps I am simply too old now to appreciate them #the mandalorian

[moonlightchildz]

The art of broken love; K.T

writer: moonlightchildz

date published: 03/07/2020

pairings: taehyung x reader

warnings: smut: creampie, fingering, unprotected sex, oral f. receiving, uhh does dirty talk count??, use of drug (weed), & angst

description: you were utterly and irrevocably in love with kim taehyung. problem was that he was your best friend’s ex.

word count: 21.2k (whoops)

His lips are roaming the crook of your neck, tongue sweeping your skin. His hands are placed on the wall that you’re backed into, eyes watching you as you begin to lose yourself into his touch. You’re mewling at just the sensation of his mouth on your skin, hands beginning to tangle themselves into his long, wavy hair. His wet kisses start to trail up your neck, kissing the side of your mouth as you giggle, eyes opening to finally see him.

“Taehyung,” you pull him closer, noses nudging against each other’s. He hasn’t kissed you yet and you’re becoming a tad bit crazier as each second passes since you need to kiss him at this point.

“I love you,” he whispers it out against your mouth, fingers encasing your mouth to keep you close to him. Your eyes widen, fingers becoming numb. “I love you.”

And before you could utter those same words out to him, you woke up.

“Holy fuck,” you panted out heavily, hands trembling as you tried to get yourself together. You glanced around your bedroom, noting that it’s past three am and you feel those familiar tears paint your face once again.

You did not just have a wet dream of fucking your best friend’s ex.

                                                            ——

“What’s wrong with you this morning?”

Hyejin eyed you skeptically, innspecting your bodry from head to toe.

“I couldn’t sleep very well last night,” you partially admitted to your best friend. There was no way in hell you were going to tell your best friend you had a dream of being fucked thoroughly by her ex-boyfriend. Oh and let’s not forget the part where he told you he loved you.

“Yeah it looks like you had one fucked up night,” she mused out and you just ignored her for her sake. Instead you dragged your way to the fridge, trying to find something edible to have at four in the morning. Once you finally found your culprit, Frosted Flakes, you decided you needed some bananas in it as well. 

“Why are you still up?” You asked with a mouthful of cereal. Your best friend just kept analyzing you since you knew you probably looked quite sad and vulnerable right now in her eyes.

She immediately grabbed herself a bowl and joined you. “Joon left an hour ago and I just took a shower. I have today off so no worries.”

Regardless if she didn’t have today off, she still would be staying up until her shift started. She was that insanely chaotic.

“Anyway, Joon is coming over so—“

You were already groaning. Whenever Namjoon came over that meant you either slept with your headphones plugged in with all of the high volume on, or spending the night somewhere else that wouldn’t require you to throw yourself out your bedroom window. Namjoon and Hyejin were just so unnecessarily loud when fucking, it was irritating and ruining your much adored sleeping hours. Not to mention that Namjoon was also one of your best friends. In fact, you and that absolute clumsy moron were practically sibling soulmates. So it was definitely weird seeing both of your worlds just collide into one.

“I’m not in the mood to spend the night somewhere else.”

“Actually he’ll be spending the weekend next week so,” she paused, taking your reaction in. You didn’t know what kind of expression she saw on your face, but she hastily began to launch into an apologetic but semi aggressive rant. “Look, his water is gonna be out for the weekend cause he’s reconstructing his bathroom. He was already going to stay at this expensive ass hotel, but I’m not letting him when he can crash here with me.  Also, y/n, he’s your best friend.”

You never had a problem with your best friend’s lovers that is until she started dating the ever so artistically, beautifully, and charismatic man named Kim Taehyung, but that’s another story to tell. Namjoon was a great guy. He was sweet, poetic, and everything a man should be but he was also careless, clumsy, and a complete nimrod. Yeah he was your best friend, but it just weird it you out that these two suddenly started dating a year ago. You remember passing out with Namjoon on your bed after your little drinking session of cheap vodka had escalated. Namjoon was all wrapped up in your covers and you were thrown on him, mouth wide open with drool collecting on our pillow. Hyejin had stormed in and immediately raged. If you could color the way her face looked, it would be more along the lines of an angry, magenta red.

She was screaming ‘how could you do this to me?’ and ‘you know what I’ve been through’ but poor Namjoon was still knocked out, snoring his problems away. She tried coming at you and you just ran away screaming at her to fuck off. By the time she got you, Namjoon was widely awake and ripping her off from you, yelling at her to get away from you. The misunderstanding was cleared up, but you never really forgave her for thinking that you could ever betray her like that. Even when she was with Taehyung, you never once tried to get with him. Your friendship with him was just that, a heartbreaking and one side love that had turned into a beautiful friendship.

And then he left without a trace.

 Snapping out of your thoughts, you immediately launched into your list of do’s and don’ts. “He’s not touching my food, he has to pick up after himself, whatever the hell he breaks he’s paying for or I will drive my foot up his ass so far you’re going to be kissing it goodnight instead, okay?” You smiled rather sweetly at her, but she knew you meant business.

Hyejin was already nodding, launching off her chair to throw her arms around your neck in such excitement. Getting to agree to bring boyfriends over was a cautious decision ever since her last relationship. She was more secretive, more reserved, and wouldn’t overshare anymore. That still didn’t change the fact that you both loved each other so much despite everything. However, Namjoon was your best friend first, so any stupid ideas that she got were immediately shot down by Namjoon and you. Which brings you back to this predicament.

“Thank you, thank you, and thank you!” She squealed in your ear and as much as you loved her, having her scream in your ear at nearing five in the morning wasn’t something you wanted to endure anymore.

“Uh huh,” you sighed and gently pried her off you. With that, you finished your bowl, threw it inside the sink, and bid her a goodnight before you dragged yourself back to bed. You figured tomorrow was going to be a long day at work.

And it was.

 It was filled with reports, your dickhead of a boss assigning you the worse people to work on a proposal that was due next week, and honestly you couldn’t believe you chose this field instead of something you would genuinely like to do. Society had its way of bending you over and fucking you over completely. Thinking about that, you then realized you hadn’t actually fucked anyone in over a year again. It reminded you just how lonely and saddened life had become for you. It only reminded you of him and how much you missed him wholeheartedly. It was honestly pathetic. Stop, you told yourself. Just stop it already.

 If live was a canvas, everything would be shaded in with the grayest and darkest of colors. Splattered paint would angrily cover it, and to soothe the pain it would be with gentle strokes of the softest of white. There were moments in life that you knew the soft white color would turn into a variety of others, it’s just the timing wasn’t right now. And as you wandered aimlessly around the museum, you started noticing your surroundings once you turned the corner and saw a more colorful perspective of art being displayed on the wall. Every single painting looked the same in a sense, but you knew in your eyes that it wasn’t.

 Each stroke, each color, each scheme represented something that the artist itself was trying to portray to themselves, or anyone feeling the same as them. It differed from love, anger, fervor passion, and distinguishable sadness that welcomed you so warmly. It wasn’t until you reached the last painting, when you slowly came to a stop. Everything about it screamed at you, demanding your utmost attention. Because even as the brightest of colors covered the canvas, the picture itself contrasted it. There was two figures. You presumed it was a male and female. One was in the middle shinning as brightly as they can, and the other remained in the shadows. But as you inspected it closer, you realized that it hid in the shadows of her colors, watching her. A hand was spread out and you could see on the palm of his hand was split with her colors, and the other with what seemed to be his.

It was breathtakingly beautiful. And it reminded you of someone so much that you felt something spill from your cheeks. Your hand was trembling as you tried to stop the drops that were falling and you claimed it was just raining. It was.

 It was severely raining inside your soul.

 And then your eyes glanced over at the artist’s name: Silly by Vante

You blinked once, then twice, and then finally you had to lean against the wall to sustain yourself properly. There was no way in hell this could be happening to you right now. There was no way in hell that life could be this cruel to you in this instant. But the shaking in your fingers, the quivering in your lips, and the sobs that were lodged in your throat begged to differ. All you wanted was a distraction, not a wakening alarm. So before you lost your shit, you tried gathering the last remaining bits and pieces of yourself before you lost those too since it had taken ages to collect those when he had left.

You felt a presence behind you and you just wanted to get out of there and breathe. Time felt as if it was slowing down, the ticking began to commence.

A painting by him? Here? Here?

“y/n?”

Your bags slipped from your fingertips. 

You didn’t turn around.

By the sound of just their voice you already knew who it was and honestly you felt your heart and mind were just playing tricks on you. Your mind knew what your heart needed and it was simply giving it to you in a sense of a vague memory of him. You were going batshit crazy.

“I know it’s you,” he spoke up after a moment and that confirmed it.

He was actually here. He was actually here.

You hadn’t seen him, or even spoken to him after your best friend broke up with him. He had vanished out of your life the second they were done and even though you told yourself several of times that he wasn’t yours to even yearn for, your heart didn’t give a fuck. In the wake of an ending relationship, a friendship had blossomed between you and him. So in a way it was like a break up to you too. You had lost someone special in your life and you didn’t even get to say goodbye. You didn’t get to say goodbye to him, or your pending feelings for him.

No matter how hard you tried to sustain yourself, you didn’t want to turn around. Because once you turned, you’d have to face reality and you weren’t exactly prepared for that in that instant. Your eyes were set on the wall, tears prickling. Don’t cry you weak little bitch. Suck it up and breathe. It was the beating of your heart and the jitters that reminded you that you were indeed alive and still breathing despite everything. And it was screaming, ‘he’s back’ with such intensity. With a deep breath, you slowly turned around.

He was carrying shopping bags in both hands. His hair was matted up as usual, but there was now a gleam in his eyes like never before. You noticed his hair had gotten longer, strands of dark brown hair covered his eyes. His beige cotton sweater complimented his skin so well and fit so loosely on him. Not to mention those brown plaid pajama pants that he would wear every day because he claimed ‘it’s fashionable these days’ and ‘look! It matches everything I wear’. But despite his physical exterior changing, the way his eyes shone immediately whispered to your aching heart that he hadn’t.

Taehyung. My Taehyung.

Out of all the days he could show up, it just happened to be that same day he had surprised you in your dreams. It happened to be the day you had wandered inside the museum you had met him in two years ago.

 “Beautiful isn’t it?”

 You were utterly speechless. “I’ve always loved the concept of the sun, moon, and the stars. It’s sort of a love triangle between them. You know the story of how the sun died every night just to let her breathe? Well, the stars make the essence of the sky. It unifies them, ties them together and makes them even more beautiful. But people think of stars separately. They don’t see the stars with the sun and the moon even though they should be.”

 The stranger turned to look at you. “Have you ever considered that the stars alone don’t need the sun and the moon? They are their own separate entity. They shine brightly with, or without them.”

 “They are uniquely beautiful. And the whole romance between the sun and the moon is bittersweet since yeah they were once together in a sense, but they don’t complement each other. The stars do.”

   You had missed him so dearly and now he was just a few feet away from you, looking toned and practically glowing. In that second, you felt your body go numb and haywire simultaneously. All of these thoughts whirled inside your mind as your body stay put in its place because he was right there. All you wanted to do was cry and be welcomed back into his arms. Your heart yearned for it as all of the memories that you created with him overwhelmed you once again.

  It was summer again.

You were laying on his lap, babbling away some nonsense since you were drunk. Taehyung on the other hand was just amusingly watching you, responding back to you and even questioning you more. Your best friend had already fallen asleep on his bed, leaving you both alone in the dark as you both softly whispered to each other. Empty glasses of wine stood on the outdoor table along with a jar of weed, and there was your bong sitting beside it.

“You’re so cute,” he bopped your nose and you rolled your eyes. You tried swatting his hand away but instead he just pinched the bridge of your nose softly.

“If I’m so cute, then why am I still single,” you whined out and Taehyung just softly chuckled. “You know, whenever I see you and Hyejin I get a little sad.”

“I’m sorry.” He immediately responded, but you hadn’t caught that.

“But it’s because I’m reminded that I don’t have anyone to kiss, or hug, or even share something with. I mean for fucks sake, I haven’t fucked anyone since—” you counted your fingers and whined some more upon realizing just how long you’ve been dry. “Oh my god it’s been a year.”

Taehyung quirked an eyebrow. “I find that very hard to believe.”

“Me too.” You agreed and Taehyung remained silent. Curious upon his silence, you glanced up to see him intently gazing down at you. It was as if he was caught in his own thoughts. His finger delicately traced the underside of your chin rather gently and as you both continued to speak in hush whispers to each other, you wondered what went on that pretty head of his when it came to you. Deep in your heart you knew the reason why you hadn’t let another person touch you intimately. They just weren’t him.

  The way you both greeted each other had become a routine even.

“Hey there, silly.” He greeted you quite enthusiastically, arm slinging over your shoulders. He pulled you towards his side and you made yourself comfortable, a smile already laced on your lips.

“Hey there you twat,” you happily chirped out but Taehyung had another set of plans since he teasingly ruffled your hair and you whined, hitting his chest rather harshly. 

“Oh no, no!” He was quick in stopping the both of you. From behind, you could feel his warm hands slide over your sides before wrapping his arms around you, spinning you around as you began laughing and telling him to stop.

 The feeling of his hands on your skin kept you wide awake for nights.

   “What are we doing tonight by the way?”

You glanced over at Taehyung who was already awaiting your answer. The both of you were on the couch side by side. There was a respective amount of distance between the two of you in the beginning, but then a fighting footsie battle had initiated and you were leaning on his shoulder now, watching him play on your Playstation 4.

“You sir,” you tapped his nose to try and gain his attention. “Have a date with Hyejin tonight, remember?”

He squinted, tilted his head back, and made a motion of opening his mouth to bite your finger rather than answering. You just shoved him back by the push of your hand on his forehead. It was after a couple of minutes later that he decided to say, “That doesn’t mean we can meet later? I wanna show you my new playstation.” He then pouted as you started shaking your head.

“Can’t. She told me she had a special surprise for you so,” you smiled, though it didn’t exactly meet your eyes this time. “I’ll be staying at Namjoon’s tonight.”

“Oh,” His movements on the controller suddenly slowed down, attention span lost. “Namjoon? You mean that dorky professor who everyone has a crush on?”

“You mean the dweeb that is my best friend?” you corrected him, finding it amusing that everyone around you did in fact have a crush on Namjoon. “Yeah.”

“Right.” He drawled out, clearly not buying it. 

“Anyways, I have to get ready for work soooo,” You ruffled his hair and quickly ran past him because you knew he would follow you and tickle you endlessly. From behind your closed door, you heard him whine in return.

“MY HAIR.”

“Have fun on your date!” You shouted instead, softly giggling to yourself like a school girl.

“I’ll try.” He quipped and you were left there wondering if he meant it, or if he was genuinely playing around.

 And then, there was that one night that changed everything around you.

Hyejin had been pestering you about your love life, trying to interrogate you as to why you were always so single and lonely. It did aggravate you at times. It felt as if she was pouring salt and lime all over your wound, but there was one night where she had set up a blind date with someone who you were definitely not interested in knowing at all. She wanted you to tag along to her and Taehyung’s date. You obviously declined, but it’s not like she ever listened in the first place.

“I don’t wanna go,” you told her, but she was not having it.

“I worked hard for this night and you Miss are not going to ruin it.”

“Dude, just go without me. I’m sure you rather not spend time alone with Tae.”

She stopped swirling the batter she was keen on making for pancakes. Something about the way she glanced over you, as if something was at the tip of her tongue should have raised concerned. Slowly, she prompted, “Tae?”

You on the other hand were carelessly flipping over your notebook, trying to review your notes for exam season that was quickly approaching. “Your boyfriend?” you told her, pouting once you realized your head was hurting beyond belief.

“I never knew you and him were that close,” she noted, eyebrows furrowing a bit.

“Well, that’s what happens when you’re a third wheel in your best friend’s relationship,” you carelessly joked, but she didn’t laugh. She just stayed silent.

You figured it was the nerves since she always tended to get very easily irritated whenever something important was coming up. Her anniversary with Taehyung was just weeks away and she was racking her brain for ideas. And since you were her best friend, you obviously had to hear it and even voice your opinions. It was definitely some cruel and twisted joke. However, after that day she never spoke to you about Taehyung anymore.

Then the date night came.

“Tae is here,” you notified Hyejin once you received his text to open the door.  She was prancing around the room, trying to make sure she looked like perfection when in reality she already was. Your best friend was honestly beautiful inside and out, no wonder Taehyung was so in love with her.

You were about to step out to let Taehyung in to let her continue getting ready when Hyejin spread out her arm, stopping you from walking out of your room. You blinked twice, trying to understand what was happening.

“My boyfriend is here so I go first,” she tried joking, passing past you before you could walk out into the living room. You simply stepped aside and signaled her to walk before you. You figured it was just the nerves.

“You look gorgeous,” you overheard Taehyung tell Hyejin. She giggled quite loudly and you glanced over your phone, definitely not having it tonight. Maybe you could pretend you were sick?

“Where’s y/n?” Taehyung suddenly asked, his deep voice making its way into your heart.

At the sound of your name slipping past his lips, your nerves simmered down. You could do it. It was just one night that you had to endure. Everything would be okay. Without a much glance at yourself, you began walking into the living room to accompany them. You were texting Wheein and Yongsun, trying to find their encouragement words as motivation for tonight.

“Wow,” was what made you look up from your phone as soon as you stepped foot inside the living room. Wow indeed. Taehyung was so insanely handsome in rendered you speechless. His short hair had been permed like he had told you he would do it and you wondered how it would feel like against your fingers. He wore a light grey long overcoat that covered the creamy-white dress shirt that molded to his body like second skin. His dress pants made his ass stand out and you noted the rings that decorated his hand so prettily. His pretty dark brown eyes was all that you could think of in that moment.

“We’re matching,” Taehyung grinned, eyes firmly set on your eyes now.

You glanced down at yourself and laughed, because yes, you both were matching. A creamy white champagne high low dress complimented your body. The straps hung loose on your arms where you decided to put a bracelet and to compliment it you wore rings on your fingers. The jacket that you had on was a light grey color and your curly hair had been pinned up by the sides.

Taehyung’s grin was endless that it made your heart flutter.

“You look really beautiful,” he said and you wondered if the smile you instantly let on your face screamed the evident feelings you had for him.

“She would have looked better in another dress.” Hyejin spoke up, eyes raking your body from head to toe. “Also those heels are old and worn out. You wanna wear some of mine instead?  You know the ones that Taehyung gave to me?”

“No,” you shook your head, still smiling. “I wouldn’t want them to get dirty, or worse trip and break them.”

Taehyung’s grin slowly morphed into a disappointed frown. He glanced over at his girlfriend, eyebrow quirked. In return you glanced her way and then back at Taehyung who seemed to be getting irritated as each minute passed.

“So, are we just gonna stare at each other, or can we leave already? Your date is already waiting for you over there, y/n.” She said, eagerly signaling you to walk out before them.

Taehyung began coughing, hands turning an awful white from how hard he was curling his fist. And Hyejin immediately started spluttering out, “Babe, are you okay? Would a kiss make it better?”

And that was your cue for you to let them be. You grabbed Taehyung’s keys from the couch and then you simply told them you would wait in the car, leaving them inside. They took quite a while to come down, but once they joined you inside you noticed there was a certain tension between them, and it was starting to suffocate you.

“Oh, fuck I forgot my purse in my apartment. y/n, go get it.”

“No,” you flatly responded. “You go get it. It’s cold and I’m being dragged out to this, remember?”

“Boo,” she pouted and then sighed heavily. “I guess we’re not going anywhere then.”

“Hyejin,” Taehyung suddenly spoke out, his patience wearing thin. “Are you good? Why are you acting so bratty lately? If y/n doesn’t wanna go then—”

“Leave her out of this,” she gritted out, surprising you momentarily. “She is fine. I’m the one who is not. I’m fucking cold, you know, your girlfriend? So can you go get my purse and my jacket?”

Taehyung inhaled deeply, face remaining stoic before he calmly exited out of the car. She watched him slowly walk back up the stairs and you remained silent for a bit, trying to figure it out how to approach your best friend without pissing her off furthermore.

“Hyejin, what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, y/n.” She snapped and you bit down on your lip, restraining yourself from provoking her. The last thing you needed was a fight between the two of you. He came back after ten minutes and once he started driving, you sighed. Hyejin started talking to him then, animatedly telling him how the guy was a perfect for you and she couldn’t wait for you to meet him. She even joked about getting rid of you finally.

“Now Taehyung will be able to finally spend the night again.”

Except her plans backfired for that night since your blind date didn’t have the nerve to cancel last minute. Though that didn’t hurt you as much as watching them together in front of you. Hyejin clung on to Taehyung, seductively muttering nonsense into his ear but his eyes were set on you. Yeah having to endure them together was something you had to put up with since that was your best friend, but just the realization that he’ll never be yours to love wholeheartedly did the trick that night.

You remember excusing yourself and rushing into the bathroom stall where your tears were hidden from everyone in that moment. You clung on to your dress, eyes blurry as you felt your heart break further more. Your back was against the stall and you were huddled into your own bitter demise because why? Out of everyone in this goddamn world did you have to fall for someone who belonged to someone else? 

“Get yourself together, bitch.” You sniffled out, trembling hands beginning to wipe away your tears. “You’re no pussy, hoe.” 

Once you repeatedly told yourself that mantra, you gathered your shit together temporarily. You hastily splashed water on your face, trying to erase evidence of your downfall since you couldn’t handle looking at yourself anymore. After a couple of minutes of just resting your forearms on the sink, head between your arms, you reminded yourself that you could just go home. You would excuse yourself from their date, leave in an Uber, and go to Namjoon’s since you didn’t want to handle Hyejin. Not whenever you were so close to breaking.

The moment you stepped foot outside though, you spotted Taehyung pacing back and forth, talking to himself. He was running his fingers through his hair, tugging at it insistently.

“Tae?”

He stopped at the sound of your voice, hands falling to his sides as he turned to face you.

“Hey there silly,” he softly spoke upon seeing you. He was quick to approach you and you allowed him to pull you close into his arms, inhaling his sweet scent. You allowed yourself the comfort as his hands caressed your back. “I’m sorry she put you up to this. I told her you weren’t comfortable.”

You allowed yourself to curl up further into his embrace, hands sliding underneath his arms, digging into his shoulder blades. You felt as if you were crumbling and he was here collecting your pieces, helping you remain intact for a little longer.

“It’s okay, I’m just tired really.” You croaked out, genuinely feeling drained in that moment. “I’m just tired of constantly having to fight myself for something that is out of my control.”

“We’re leaving okay? I’m going to take you to that stupid noodle place you love so much and play that dumb board game that you’ve been wanting us to play. I think we have some left over face masks, too. And of course your favorite thing in the world?”

“Weed?” you hopefully asked and Taehyung just laughed.

“On a serious note,” he began murmuring it out, “I’m sorry you had to deal with that unsympathetic asshole, but in reality I’m sorry for him. He missed out on an amazing woman who lights up her surroundings with just a glance of her eyes.”

“You’re too kind sometimes, Kim Taehyung,” you softly told him. Please stop.

He slowly bent down, eyes set on you now. His hands framed your face so tenderly and you swore fate was cruel to you. “I’m being 100 percent honest with you right now. You are such an amazing person and I—”

He suddenly halted. You could feel the way his hands curled around your face, fingertips slowly tracing your skin. The way he was gazing at you and tenderly touching you made your heart flutter. It made forgetting him ridiculously harder than it already was.

“If I were an artist, I wouldn’t hesitate to make as many portraits as it takes to make you realize just how beautiful you are.”

“But you are an artist,” you immediately interject, not having it. Taehyung was an incredible artist, but he always claimed he was the contrary. He didn’t really see the talent that he possessed, but in your eyes he was the next Van Gogh. After all, he had painted your world in a variety of colors.

He laughed softly to himself, and instead of saying more, he simply pulled you back into his arms. The moment you felt his lips trace your head something strange had happened. As he held you in his embrace, your fingers curled into his shirt, the desire to kiss him becoming incredibly stronger than remembering that he wasn’t yours. But as he reassured you with the sweetest of words, you realized you were utterly and irrevocably in love with Kim Taehyung.

 It was a few weeks later after the date night when Taehyung had called you at exactly seven in the afternoon. You weren’t alone in the apartment since Hyejin was preparing herself for the ‘happiest night of her life’ as she claimed. She was bragging and constantly telling you about it to the point where your heart and mind connected to tuning her out whenever she did. Instead, your thoughts rewind it back to that night. That night when you realized just how deeply your feelings for him were coursing through your veins. Ever since then, you hadn’t seen him.

Then as soon as you were tucked inside your covers, heartbroken, and ready for bed, his unexpected call came through. You didn’t even say hello before he was sputtering out, “Can you come over? Please? I-I need, um, it’s an emergency.”

He hung up after that. All kinds of scenarios formed in your mind in that instant. Was he hurt? Did he finally realized he no longer wanted you in his life? Maybe he needed help in picking out his outfit for the perfect night tonight. So with your pjs on, you slid on a hoodie and secretly left without telling your best friend anything. Either way she didn’t notice.

“You actually came,” Taehyung spoke up, sounding weak and even relieved in a sense.

You mustered up a tiny, but genuine closed lip smile. “Of course, dummy.”

“I thought you were ignoring me,” he said, pausing afterwards to see you. His eyes trailed your body from head to toe, a tiny grin replacing the worried frown he had earlier.

“Shut it,” you immediately told him, huffing. Yes, you were wearing mickey mouse pajama pants, and yes Taehyung was grinning widely now.

“This isn’t even about me so—” you stopped talking once you realized just how distraught he really seemed. “Tae, what the hell happened to you?”

His hair was everywhere, dark heavy bags underlined his eyes, and all over his clothes was splattered paint. Without even intending so, you quickly approached him. Your hands were framing his face before you could detain yourself, eyes roaming his features. He had purple, green, pink, gold, and blue paint adorning his handsome face.

“Hey,” with a soft whisper, you demanded, “talk to me.”

He simply responded back with his beautiful, signature, boxy smile. “I rather show you instead.”

Confused, you glanced up at him and he just pulled you closer to him. His hand pressed against the back of your head, hugging you fully now. And you just complied with your hearts desires and inhaled deeply his scent. Your hands tentatively wrapped around his sides, ear placed directly against his beating heart.

“Thank you for coming,” he softly spoke to you and you hummed in peace. “You made me realize what I finally need to do now.”

Of course, after all, you were in love with him. You would do anything in order to retain that beautiful smile of his, even if it meant breaking your own heart in the process. Because the person who was responsible for his happiness, for that smile, and for his heart was someone else.

“Come,” his voice rumbled throughout his chest and you nodded, your heart sighing. He was pulling away from you, slowly, and you found yourself not wanting to let go. You found yourself wishing you didn’t feel this way about your friend, about your confidant, and about your best friend’s boyfriend but the heart wants what it wants.

“Someone missed me,” Taehyung mused out, glancing down at you. His arms immediately went back around your body, wrapping you up so warmly against him in a way that made your heart stammer beyond control.

“As much as I love this,” he chuckled, his deep, honey like voice sounding like a melody in your ears. “I’ve been working on this for weeks and it’s really important.”

“Okay.” You let go of him, reminding yourself where your place should be. You shyly glanced up at him and found him already looking at you. He didn’t say anything else, instead, his fingers tentatively interlocked with yours.

The feeling of his hand sliding and interlacing with your own, only enhanced everything around you. You felt dizzy and lightheaded from just being near him, but now he was holding your hand as he led you through his apartment.

Taehyung unlocked a door that had always been secured. He didn’t even allow Hyejin to see what was in there, much less go into the said room. You slowly followed behind, curious eyes taking in every detail. All around the three walls, paintings were hung. The only light that was being portrayed was by the wall to wall sliding doors. The room was painted with beige colors, and next to the doors you could see pillows and blankets strewn. Alongside stood bottles of water, wine, and his color palette that had been heavily used judging by the colors that were grimy and mixed together.

“Okay but these paintings are beautiful as fuck, holy shit.” You were in absolute awe that you let go of his hand first. “Can I?” you whispered out, unsure if it was okay to taint his pretty art with your touch.

He simply smiled.

So you went around the room, curious eyes taking in every detail because Taehyung had taken seconds, minutes, hours, days, or even weeks out of his life to pour his soul into these canvases and convert them into his own art. You gazed in fascination since he managed to mix every color together, creating these contracting meshes into one. It depicted him so well, and you felt an overwhelming pride upon seeing these because he finally painted.

It was the last painting that made you stop and really take time and depth into analyzing it.

“Do they remind you of something?” He was behind you, probably just a couple of inches away from you since you could feel his warm breath fan the back of your neck.

You tilted your head, trying to decipher what it meant. The painting was eccentric from the start. In the background the colors were shaded in dark monotone colors but in the center of the painting there was a figure that resembled a woman that was outlined with soulful colors. Hues of pinks, blues, yellow, green, and everything in between surrounded the figure that happened to have their eyes closed with a smile. As you sank to your knees to get a closer view, you traced the stars in the background with your fingertips. Something about it reminded you of something but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it yet. Stars? The moon and the sun were parallel to each other. The stars were everywhere though, outshining them both in a sense. An overwhelming emotion clouded your senses once seeing the painting as a whole. The woman was painted beautifully.

“It was the first time we met,” he quietly explained and you felt the air in your lungs rapidly leave your body. “At the art exhibit. I remember you telling me about how you’re stupidly obsessed with the concept of stars, the moon, and the sun.”

“Is that...” you swallowed thickly, hysteria bubbling up inside of you. No, no, it couldn’t be what you were thinking.

“Read the back of it,” he softly spoke behind you.  

“I-I,” you started blubbering out, your eyesight momentarily blurring for a second. As your finger traced the stars, you felt the sob lodged in your throat threatening to spill out.

Silly.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung was quick to pick up on your mannerisms. He seemed concerned upon seeing the tears in your eyes once you turned around to face him.

“You idiot,” you simply muttered out before launching yourself at him. Arms winded around his neck and Taehyung softly chuckled before wrapping his strong arms around you. You inhaled his scent, finding comfort in his arms and just him overall.

“Thank you,” your voice was muffled out by his clothing. “Thank you.”

“It’s yours, if you want it.” He softly spoke out, chin on top of your head. His thumb was rubbing soothing circles on to your exposed skin, humming along to whatever song was on his mind in that moment.

You simply nodded, afraid if you spoke something else would end up happening in that moment. Your quivering lips ghosted over his exposed skin, hot breath fanning against his chest. His movements stopped suddenly, and you could feel him inhale sharply. Your fingers were digging into his sides, tears beginning to stain his shirt now.

“I—” you choked out, not really finding the right words to say to him.  

“Please don’t cry,” he begged you, his hands cupping your cheeks. You could feel his hot breath fan against your lips. His nose nudged against yours and you felt a dizzying spell overwhelm your soul upon being so close. He was tantalizing you without even meaning to. Just by the way his breath ghosted your face, your mind had wiped clean your conscious. He was so close. He was just there. His fingers were tangling into your hair, unspoken words being desperately told with just a flickering of eyes between the two of you.

“You are so undeniably, bewitchingly, ethereally beautiful.” He softly confessed against your mouth. You felt the murmur of his lips against yours and it just enhanced his lovely words into your heart. The pad of his finger softly ghosted over your bottom lip and you didn’t realize how utterly close the both of you were until you felt the erratic beating of his heart. Your fingers wandered up his arms, suddenly stopping once they were around his neck.

“y/n, I—” he breathed out, his lips slowly and just inches away from finally meeting yours. Your eyes were fluttering to a close, almost allowing yourself to finally dive head into what was Kim Taehyung, but just as your heart almost gave up on you, your mind thought of something immediately.

“Hyejin,” you threw out, eyes widening. Hyejin. Images of your best friend flickered in your brain, the red warning flags finally slapping you back to reality. A reality where Kim Taehyung was not yours and will never be yours. His heart belonged to someone else.

“Oh fuck,” he suddenly blurted out as you were pushing him away from you. The both of you instantly fell apart in that moment. Shame quickly took a whole of you now and the mortification and guilt was just eating you away as you tried to avoid Taehyung’s gaze.

“I think it’s time for me to go,” you shakily said, your heart breaking with each word you uttered out.

Taehyung had his eyes screwed shut, his hands hastily tugging at the roots of his hair in what seemed desperation. “I, uh, I actually have to meet up with her.” He said as an afterthought, and then his eyes widened. “Oh fuck, I have to go pick her up in twenty minutes.”

He glanced your way and you simply did not look at him at all. After all, you were just seconds away from kissing him and rendering straight into his arms. Your feelings had begun to control you and that had become incredibly dangerous now. You knew deep in your heart that you needed to get away from him because you were sure the next time you wouldn’t remember Hyejin. But that’s what happens when you’re trapped with the person you’re in love with. Feelings tend to tangle you up, choking you up until you’re forced to breathe because you’re suffocating on the inside from all the kept up emotions.

Despite everything, you were already demanding him, “Taehyung, go get showered and dressed.” You didn’t even spare him a glance as you walked past him. Your hands were trembling, head whirling, and broken pieces leading from Taehyung’s hands to wherever you were heading into now.

“Hey, wait.” He was trailing after you, hand encasing your arm to stop you. He held you back, managing to spin you halfway from the sudden momentum. His eyes were pleading, feet unconsciously nearing you. “Please, look at me. We need to talk abo—”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hold you back like that.” You blurted out, your trembling fingers taking off his hand from your skin. It was too much. You wouldn’t even dare to look him straight in the eye because you knew you were bound to cry and spill everything that your heart was just aching you to at this point.

“What?” he sounded incredulous, eyebrows furrowing as he slowly said the following words, “Don’t you ever apologize for spending time with me. I love being around you.”

Despite everything, you meekly wondered, “Really?”

His fingertips were already marking their way into your skin, comforting you without him meaning to. “So much that you make me forget life altogether.”

It was so messy. You wondered when everything in your life had become such havoc. How everything had spiraled out of control and you no longer were in reign over your emotions. The moment Kim Taehyung pranced into your life, you knew you were bound to be fucked. You didn’t expect to fall so in love with your best friend’s boyfriend. You just didn’t expect such heartbreak in return after this moment.

“Taehyung,” you croaked out, tears slipping past your cheeks. “I—”

“What is it?” He tried nearing you, but with each step he took you backtracked. “Just tell me already. I know you fee—”

“Hyejin,” was all you could muster out. You couldn’t do that to her. No way.

I love you, but you are not mine to love Kim Taehyung. At least, not in this lifetime.

You flung his hand away from you, already walking away from him, muttering out, “I’ll see you around.”  

 That same night you trailed your broken hearted soul back to Namjoon’s penthouse. His keys dangled on your fingers, mocking you with each step you took towards your own demise. He wasn’t there so that made it even worse. Namjoon had been your comfort, best friend, and soulmate since the first time you both met. In fact, your friendship was stronger than yours and Hyejin’s combined. Unfortunately though, he wouldn’t be there to hold you tonight and you decided it was okay. You figured you’d cook for the both of you whenever he decided to come back from girlfriend number four.

You knew going back to your place was a big, fat, fucking no. After all, Taehyung and Hyejin were probably celebrating their first grand anniversary together and you didn’t want to be there. No one wanted to witness who they were irrevocably in love with be someone else. It just reminded you of the heartbreak, sadness, and tears all over again. Sighing, you made your way inside, going into Namjoon’s room to retrieve your left over clothes from last time to change into. You didn’t want to be in clothes where Taehyung had left his mark on.

Fortunately for you though, Namjoon had arrived quite early from his date.

“I thought you weren’t going to be here.” You said with a mouth full of mint chocolate ice cream. Even though Namjoon despised that flavor with all the fiber in his body, he still always went out to retrieve some from you.

“I had a feeling you’d be a mess tonight so I brought this,” he said, lifting a recycling bag. His dimples were showcasing, eyes slightly squinted from how cutely he was smiling. “I went grocery shopping so we can make pasta!”

“Oh, well I made your favorite a while ago as well. How about you roll up this—” you brought up the baggy that was filled with weed. “And serves us some wine while I cook the pasta?”

He sighed, hand over heart as he melodramatically said, “Sounds like utter heaven.”

And that’s exactly what happened. He sat across from you, legs crossed with a blunt in his hand as he waited for his pasta to slightly cool down. You were already gone, loving the hazy effect it had on you. Soft music was playing and you were doing okay, but then a particular song came on that made you remember him all over again.

“I don’t know the situation between you and him, but it has you fucked over so badly. I’ve never seen you so head over heels over someone, much less a man.” Namjoon suddenly spoke up after watching you. There were tears already brimming in your eyes as you tried to blink them back.

“If I told you who it was you wouldn’t be this nice to me.” You quietly muttered out, avoiding his curious gaze. But you kept on forgetting who you were talking to after all. Namjoon was always one step ahead of you, he was only giving you space.

“You are my best friend, you idiot.” He fiercely reminded you, arms wrapping around you. “I know you like the back of my hand so whoever it is I know you’re not doing it on purpose to hurt yourself, or anyone else.”

“He’s just different. I don’t know what made me just fall into oblivion for him, but he makes me feel safe, secured, and at home.”

“But?”

You glanced down at your hands, heart aching to the point where you just wanted it to stop. “But he’s not mine, Namjoon. He belongs to someone else, and they are just so in love with each other.”

“It’s Taehyung isn’t it.” He didn’t ask, rather he stated it. At this point you weren’t going to deny it. After all, you were hell bent on not seeing him anymore after today. It was for the best. Your silence however spoke rather than your own words could. Tears were staining your cheeks, a choked up sob escaping from your lips. You hastily covered your mouth with your hands to prevent anymore, eyes screwing shut as the pain coursed through your body.

“C’mere,” Namjoon gestured you towards him and you instantly wrapped yourself around him like a koala. You leaned your head against his chest, your eyes fluttering to a close as he began to rock you in his arms, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.  You wondered how you had lucked out with finding Namjoon. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t feel and be this safe in his arms. This love you felt for him reminded you of how strong your bond was with him. He’d do anything to protect you just as you would as well. And right now seeing you sob against his chest broke your soulmate apart.

“Love is a bitch, y/n. But one thing I know is that if it’s meant to be, then it’s worth fighting for…the right way that is. Right now I know you feel this intense fervor of love you have for him won’t go away anytime soon, but I promise you it is.  Put some distance between you and him. If you find yourself going back to him, then all I can tell you is to talk to him. Talking does wonders, baby. ”

“It’s easier said than done. Also, Hyejin is my best friend and are you forgetting that Taehyung is still in love with her?”

He remained quiet. If Namjoon voiced out his real thoughts, he was sure he would just ignite the fire within your heart. So he sufficed with just holding you in his arms because this was the support you needed in this moment. You needed someone who could hold you and see through you. He figured Taehyung had dug deep beneath the depths of your secured heart and he wanted nothing than to go and ruin their precious little celebration. Regardless, he just hoped Taehyung was taken out of your life so you could get a whole of yourself again.

After midnight, your phone had begun to ring insistently. You were deep asleep, curled up in his covers as Namjoon stared at your phone. ‘Taehyungieee’ was the name flashing on the screen. Namjoon wondered what he wanted from you. No sane boyfriend would be calling their girlfriend’s best friend this late. He wondered just how you had developed these feelings for him and the answer was staring at him right on the face. The picture it flashed along with his name was you and him. You were on Taehyung’s back, arms lazily wrapped around him as you did bunny ears on him. His eyes were closed, but the huge grin plastered on his face made it evident that he was incredibly happy around you.  

So Namjoon grabbed a hold of your phone and answered the call.

He was already sputtering out nonsense as soon as he answered the call. “I know it’s late, but I need to tell you something. I—I, I did something tonight and the only person who I only want to see in this moment is you. I don’t know what I was thinking, but today just reassured me that you—”

Namjoon was having none of it. “She’s with me, Taehyung.” He sharply cut him off, anger evident in his voice. “So I suggest you to stop playing with her feelings before I personally go over to your place and beat the fuck out of you. I don’t wanna hear any of your bullshit when all you’ve done is hurt her recklessly. Leave her the fuck alone, you don’t deserve her.”

Namjoon hung up. Your phone was tossed somewhere behind him after he deleted the call. He sighed into his hands. Now he knew why. He wondered if Hyejin knew too. He wondered if she was okay because you surely weren’t and you weren’t even his girlfriend. He glanced over at you, wondering when your heartbreak would end.

 A week later, Taehyung had packed up everything and left. And in his wake, he had taken your heart with him too, the red string of your love attached to it, tangling until it was just a huge ball of sorrow.

  And it goes back to now.

It’s him who breaks the silence. You watched as he calmly bent down to drop his bags on the ground and once he stood up again, his dark brown eyes met yours. He seemed hesitant in approaching you at first, but you felt yourself take a step closer to him involuntarily. You honestly could not believe it.

“Taehyung,” you finally acknowledged him, eyes meeting his. The way he gazed at you reminded you of the time in the hallway where he was declaring to you so many beautiful words and you had realized you were fucking in love with him.

He slowly inched closer, his hands twitching at his sides. It was him who took the final step, his arms slowly raising rather tentatively. A flicker of eyes was exchanged between the two of you, almost fleeting. Your fingers were already raising, yearning to touch him because you just had to make sure that this was real. However, the second his hands met your skin, reality had set in. Eyes widened, breathing had halted, and Taehyung’s arms were pulling you into his embrace so desperately. You practically lunged yourself at him, all teary eyed and with quivering lips spilling his name.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” he breathed out, his hot breath raising goosebumps all over your body. “And I missed you so much.” He whispered it out, but you heard it so loud and fucking clear. You dug your face into the crook of his neck, hands inches away from the nape of his hair that had gotten longer. Your side was curled up into his, eyes closed to keep the feeling of this moment engraved in your heart.

His hand was placed at the back of your head, keeping you in place in his arms. Your fingers dug into his skin, your mind trying to wrap around the idea that he was indeed here. He was here, and you were finally in his arms once again. His arms were strongly wrapped around your body, pulling you flush against him. His scent was everywhere. It was invading your senses, your way of thinking, and reigniting those feelings that you tried to burn away. Everything was just bubbling up inside and now you had to worry about waiting for it to burst once again.

Your Taehyung was back.

You felt his hand slowly travel down your spine, his fingers tracing every curve of your body before enveloping you in such a tight, vice grip. You could hardly breathe and you didn’t know if it was due to the excitement, or because he was just holding you so close to him so tightly. The beating of his heart was erratic against your chest and you inhaled his scent, not fully believing that he was finally back after such a long period of time.

“You have no idea just how much I wanted to come back every time you came into my mind.”

And then your clouded, foggy mind soon returned all the sorrow, heartbreak, and tears you had suffered all at once. That brief happiness of seeing him, of being reunited with him, and having him hold you like this would never fill up the hole he had dug out of your heart.

“I’m sure you did,” you bitterly bit out at him, remembering the shit he had put you through. No matter how comfortable you felt being in his arms again, you were already pulling away from him. “That definitely seemed like it when you just left and didn’t say anything to me, or anyone for a fact.”

It was too much. Just two years ago he had walked into your life, made you feel butterflies and heartbreak all at once. Two years ago, he had begun dating your best friend and all you could do was play along, pushing a side your own feelings. A year ago, he broke your best friend’s heart and yours simultaneously. And now, he’s back.

“I’m sorry,” his eyes were deeply filled with concern. Those hands gently framed your face, his thumb wiping away a tear that had fallen. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”

You just shook your head and laughed a little at the situation you were in. He was pulling you back into his embrace but you just removed his hands from you. He wasn’t allowing you think again. Snapping out of your trance you snarled out, “Just stop! Stop touching me and let me go.”

Taehyung seemed as he had been punched. His grip on you weakened automatically, eyes shining with turmoil trapped in them.

“I’m leaving,” you mustered out, avoiding his gaze once again. You knew if you glanced into those eyes you were going to turn into putty and run back to him like nothing. That was something you didn’t need right now. He couldn’t just prance back into your life without facing the consequences.

“Hey,” he started, his voice filled with despair and urgency. “Please wait, please,” he pleaded and you shook your head, trying to clear his voice from your mind. His hand intertwined with yours, tugging you back to him.

Your eyes widened at the feeling of his fingers interlocking with yours. If you could kiss him right now, you would. Every inch of your body was yearning to pull him and just kiss him because no amount of words would ever put it through your heart just how much you adored this man.

“I’m sorry I left like that, but I’m back now and I want to make things right, okay?” He tried resonating with you, but you figured moving on was the only way to keep you and your poor, fragile heart safe. “Here isn’t the place to talk, but please give me a chance to come back into your life again and explain why I left like that.”

You slowly disentangled your fingers from him and Taehyung faltered. You just grabbed your bags and said, “I can’t let you back into my life, not when it was so hard to let you go when you left me behind so easily.”

 And with that said, Taehyung let you go.

 —-

 Tears spilled down your cheeks, and you knew your eyes were red and swollen, but you hadn’t felt any sort of emotion since he pranced into your life minutes ago. You were a blank canvas, but somehow Taehyung always managed to get you so beautifully painted with the brightest and warmest colors you could ever think of. Streaks of blues, purple, pinkish, orange and yellows hues adorned and blossomed from your soul, evolving as each day passed. All of these colors reminded you of how it felt to be around his presence. Of how it felt to slowly and all at once fall in love with a person.

“What’s wrong with you?” Hyejin murmured out, her arms were wrapped around you. She was leaning her head on your shoulder, eyes curiously gazing at you with worry. “I haven’t seen you this sad since last year.”

A bittersweet smile edged your lips. Of course destiny was cruel. To fall for a man who wasn’t, couldn’t, and still wouldn’t be yours. To be fair, falling for Taehyung came unexpectedly, but yet again everything with him was unexpected and beautiful in a sense that reminded you that you were alive and could feel.

“I’m fine, just tired,” you mumbled out, trying to not let your emotions get the better of you. How could you explain to her that the reason you were crumbling once again was due to the man who broke her heart on the day of their anniversary? 

The day they broke up Hyejin was enthusiastically telling you about how passionate and fulfilling that night was going to be so you spent the night at Namjoon’s again, trying to drown yourself with weed and food. The next day you found your best friend on the couch with makeup stains and the smell of alcohol oozing from her. She never really told you what went down that night but for a while your relationship with her had been strained. There were days where it was just silent. She wouldn’t face you, or even talk to you until a couple weeks passed by. The mentioning of Kim Taehyung was forbidden in the household you both shared together. That unspoken rule was what made everything okay between the two of you again.

“I’ll be back later if Namjoon cancels—”

“No,” you waved her off. “Go and enjoy your weird date with him. I just saw this stupid drama and it has me in my feelings. I’ll be fine. I’ll call Wheein later and see if she wants to get drunk together.”

“Yeah,” She said, grabbing a hold of her purse with a semi disgusted look on her face. “I definitely don’t wanna be here to see that go down like last time.”

“Have fun with Joonie! Tell that moron that I found my Nintendo 64 the other day!”

“He’s going to feel relieved that he didn’t actually break it, or misplaced it as you accused him of.” She narrowed her eyes at you and you simply glanced down at your phone, feeling attacked right now.

“To be fair it wouldn’t be the first time so leaveee me aloneee,” you whined out and Hyejin just shook her head.

“I’ll be back for dinner tomorrow so don’t go anywhere! I’m buying Chinese takeout tomorrow.”

“I’ll be here as long as you buy me food.” You dryly replied, being genuinely honest.

She smiled cutely, waving her finger at you quite adoringly in response. “Done.”

You felt like a proud mother watching her child go into her first day of school since Hyejin was enthusiastically waving at you. She was quick to tell you she loved you before she skipped out the door. A tiny smile managed to make its way on your face. You figured she’d be back in less than five minutes though since she tended to be forgetful at times. As in cue, the doorbell rang and you sighed.

“I asked you if you had your fucking keys and you—” your eyes met with the figure who was not in fact your best friend.

You almost screamed, but conformed to a whisper. “Taehyung?”

Upon seeing him, you immediately stumbled over your feet as you tried to close the door again. Taehyung’s response seemed out of reflex. His arms were already wrapping around you, catching you in seconds before your face could connect with the lovely ground. He held you protectively against his side, his eyes taking in your expression as you glanced up at him in shock.

“I see you haven’t changed one bit.” He retorteed, his voice echoing throughout the hallway corridor. You had forgotten the sound of his voice until you saw him again, and now he was standing outside of your apartment…with his arms around you.

“Hyejin isn’t here.” Your mouth automatically told him. It was always that fucking sentence. Every time he would come over Hyejin would already be at work, or out with her friends, or even going to his place. Taehyung was always at your place though, with or without her in the apartment.

He scoffed, and then began to softly laugh upon seeing your confused expression. “I’m not here for her.”

Oh. Your eyes widened at that. Oh.  His arms had gotten bulkier, his frame broader and you hated that you noticed that within the seconds that he was holding you. You gained footing again and pushed yourself out of his arms, backtracking into your apartment to refrain your dumb self from saying anything stupid.

“I went over to your old apartment last night, but instead I got met with an eccentric Chinese couple.”

You snorted, biting back a venomous retort. “I’m sure you had fun being introduced to their classic rock collection, eh?”

He was watching you, taking your reaction towards him as he carefully spoke. “That and they invited me over to dinner tomorrow since I was so charming in their eyes.”

Your mouth was set on a thin line, expression impassive. “You won’t look so charming once my fist connects with your face if you don’t tell me what you’re doing here.”

Despite that threatening comment, he grinned. “You’ve always been all bark so I highly doubt you’ll do that.”

He was right on that, but the anger you had stored inside you would beg to differ in this case. 

“I’m not here to fight though,” he quickly spoke, noting how you were seconds away from slamming the door on his face right now. “I’m here to say that no amount of words will ever take back what I did to you. I know what I did was unfair to you in every way and I’ll understand if you don’t want me back in your life. But let me tell you something y/n, during that time that I was gone I did a lot of self-thinking and it all led me back to you. The first thing I did once I stepped foot in this country was look for you, which is why I’m here. I’m sorry for leaving like that, for not explaining myself, and for hurting you the way I did.”

“You idiot,” you quietly uttered out before becoming more vocal once the anger seeped in. “I-I, how dare you try to prance into my life like nothing and think that an apology is going to fix everything? You were my person, Taehyung. You broke my heart once I realized that you had left and you weren’t coming back. For a year, I wondered what happened that made you leave me like that and—and—”

You felt your throat begin to burn as tears blurred your eyesight. Damn it. Hold yourself together.

“y/n...”

“You know what?” you sucked in air and blinked back the tears. “I wish you the best in life, but what you did I will never forgive you for.”

You slammed the door in his face with all the force in your body, causing the door to shake. It echoed through your apartment and you couldn’t hear him over the roaring waves of anger that clouded your senses overall. Despite you being so livid, the other part of you wanted nothing more than to open the door and let him inside once again. You knew what side could overpower the other one the moment you could clearly hear him once again.

“y/n, I’m sorry,” his voice cracked and you screwed your eyes shut, fingers curling into the palm of your hand. “Please,” he continued, twisting your heart more. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I just don’t want to lose you. It was a hell of a year without having you constantly by my side.”

“Liar,” you instantly called his bluff.

You slowly approached the door, hand outstretched towards the door handle. Taehyung was outside your door, it wasn’t a dream anymore that you could wake up from. He was just a few feet away with a barrier between the two of you once again. And then your hand went limp besides your body, eyes screwing to a shut as you tried to allow your brain to do the thinking instead of your heart. Sighing, you simply leaned your forehead against the wooden floor, wanting nothing more than to have his arms around you.

Silence.

You wondered if he had given up and left.

“I’m going to wait here until you decide to open the door.” Nope, he hadn’t.

“I’ll call security.” You immediately bit out and all you heard was a quiet chuckled.

Out of gnawing curiosity, you watched through the peephole as he slid down and sat criss crossed facing your door. His phone sat next to him, faced down. He was simply gazing at your door now, not moving an inch.

“I’ll be waiting.”

You deliberately screamed at yourself to leave him there. You pried your fingers from the door handle, reprimanding yourself over being so incredibly stupid. So instead you occupied yourself with trying to clean, organize, and even fucking cook. But everywhere you went was full of memories of you and him. Despite you moving away from your old apartment, you still had the same couch where you both sat across each other, throwing popcorn, gummy bears, and m&m’s at each other’s mouths. The bed sheets where he had accidentally fallen asleep while you were running your fingers through his hair, listening to him talk about his shitty day at work. The pillows you both had initiated a pillow fight with at three am in the morning. The wine glasses of that summer night where you and he spent hours talking about everything and anything. Even now as you filled up a glass of water to pour it into the pot reminded you of how he would volunteer to help you cook.

“Here, let me just—” he leaned over you, his shirt raising above his belly button as he reached over to grab the glasses for sweet tea. Your eyes flickered over to his exposed skin and the urge to trace your fingers down his abdomen was so immensely strong that it frightened you completely. You felt heat warm up your cheeks as you decided to glance away from his glowing skin and rather turn your eyes towards him. But Taehyung’s gaze was already on you, glasses already in hand.

The proximity between the two of you was numbing to the heart and brain. He was so incredibly close, to the point where you could see the color of his irises. In that moment, your favorite color had gone from yellow to brown in seconds. He was trapping you in, body touching yours. His warmth envelope you and you swore you could count those pretty lashes on his eyes and you would not get tired of it. His eyes flickered down to your lips and you knew you weren’t breathing at this point.

“Strange,” he suddenly cleared his throat, and took a step away from you. He turned away from you and you took in a deep and necessary breath.

“What?” you uttered out, slightly ashamed. He caught you staring and was probably disgusted by you now. Even you were bemused at your sudden urge that hadn’t been there before. What the fuck was going on?

He turned to face you, seeming a bit struck himself. “I suddenly have the urge to paint.”

“Really?” you broke out into a smile, forgetting the moment all together. “Dude, that’s great!”

His awe was transparent as he warmly smiled back at you. “It really is.”

That night you realized Taehyung had begun to sneak his way into your heart. The first ever color to be tentatively painted on the canvas of your heart was the color brown.

 “Can you believe Taehyung has been ignoring me for the past few days?” Hyejin began to ramble on quite angrily. “So you know what I did the other day? I went over his place and he was inside this weird room, locked inside. He came out with paint all over him and proceeded to kick me out of his apartment, claiming he was too tired and busy.”

You continued writing down your notes, trying to stay focus on your assignment.

“…something about finally getting his fucking muse and whatnot. He was telling me about his drought the other night, but I think I fell asleep on him. However, what the fuck? It’s been almost a week now and he’s not even answering my c—”

She suddenly got a phone call and you thanked your lucky stars. Judging from the disappointed look in her face, it was clearly not Taehyung. She still answered the call and finally left you alone in peace.

From: Taehyungieee

I just finished my first ever painting since two years ago

   The cup of water suddenly slipped from your numb fingers and crashed all over the floor. It was a rude and uncalled awakening call for sure.

“Shit,” you said, immediately grabbing a hold of the broom to clean the mess up.

“Are you okay?”

And there he was: the rude, uncalled awakening call. It was startling you awake again, but did you really want to wake up? You’ve been asleep all this time, waiting with your broken heart at the palm of your hands. Did you really want to wake up just to have it punched, twisted, and hell bent over again?

“y/n, I need to know if you’re okay or—”

“I’m fine,” you croaked out, eyes watering. You were obviously not fine. And you weren’t going to be as long as he sat outside your fucking door. The anxiety of Hyejin coming back and seeing him suddenly struck a nerve. How would she react to him coming back after so long? You were barely hanging on right now. You even sat down beside the pile of broken glass, head leaning back against the cabinet. You ignored the pile you had amounted, waiting to be pricked by now.

As long as you were in love with him, you knew it was going to stir everything up in your life once again. You knew him coming back was something that you did not plan for. You weren’t the slightest prepared and it frightened you. The last time you were unprepared you fell deeply in love with a man who was not yours to keep.

It was past midnight when you decided to just see if he was still outside. The temptation of sliding him a plate of food was incredibly strong, but you held out. Now as you peered out the peephole you realized he was cold. He had his arms wrapped around his body and was slightly shivering. The best of part of you grabbed a hold of you and you grabbed a hold of your favorite blanket and rather quietly and slowly you opened the door. You found him resting against the edge of the door frame, sleeping. With light steps, you approached his sleeping figure before taking a seat next to him. You wrapped your blanket around him and yourself. With a poke to his cheek, you secured yourself that he was indeed passed out since he didn’t even flinch or stir. The silence welcomed you, bringing you so much peace as you quietly heard Taehyung’s breathing. It was in that moment of weakness that you momentarily allowed yourself to lean your head against his shoulder. 

He was back.

Taehyung.

Your mouth was already spilling your contained secrets.

“The only reason why I’m here is because I still love you, Taehyung.” You whispered it out, your fingers tenderly brushing away the bangs from his eyes. “I don’t think I ever stopped, or will if I’m being honest.”

You figured he was dead asleep so it wouldn’t matter.

And he was sound asleep. But as you glanced up at him, gathering each and every detail from his pretty face, you realized just how much you had missed him. There were nights where you would scribble away your heart out on a piece of paper in search for him. Tears were documented on those pages and your feelings were a mesh of words that only he could bring out of you. Kim Taehyung had definitely left a wound in your heart and now here he was beside you sound asleep, quickly patching it up and healing it with just his mere presence. God, you were an absolute idiot.

You stayed there with him for who knows long until he started moving. It was then that you instantly ripped yourself away from him and stood up in time for him to flutter his eyes open. A loud ass yawn emitted from his lips and he looked disoriented before his brown eyes landed on you.

“y/n,” he rasped out, immediately sitting up once again. His legs were wrapped up in your blanket and you watched how he realized he even had it in the first place. His fingers tentatively curled around it, tugging it closer to his body.

He wasn’t looking at you as he spoke up, sounding incredibly tired. “Do you want me to leave?”

Yes. Yes, was what you meant to fucking say.

You were gazing ahead of you, not turning towards him as you replied heavily, “No.”

Taehyung was immensely surprised and shocked. You were sure he was expecting you to kick him out for good once and for all like you should, but then he softly replied, “Okay.”

“It’s cold.” You quietly told him, already beginning to walk inside your apartment again. “Come inside.”

He trudged in behind you rather quietly, hands still curled around the blanket. You led him into the kitchen, pouring him a hot cup of green tea so he could drink. Alongside stood a plate full of food that had been obviously warmed up. Whatever he was thinking though, he didn’t utter a word out. His eyes didn’t meet yours. They were too focused on the steaming mug of tea and food.

“Drink this,” you said as you passed him the mug, your eyes flickering away from his intense gaze now. “You’re more than welcome to take the couch. My bathroom is down the hall to the right if you need it. And I want you out of here before 10 in the morning the latest.”

The way you spoke was monotone, firm, and was nothing compared to the sweet, kind hearted person Taehyung knew so well.

“Noted.”

You both finally met each other’s eyes. You held his gaze, hoping that in some way all your pain, tears, and heartbreak could be transferred so he would know how you felt for so long. Maybe then he would know the damaged he had done to you inside and out. However, that did not happen. Instead you felt your gaze blur, hands beginning to tremble from just how hurt you were so inside. You glanced away, shoving past him.

You didn’t turn around to notice the way his saddened gaze followed you all the way until you trapped yourself between another set of four walls, away from him.

It was four am.

You couldn’t fall asleep.

Your bed sheets were just not lulling you to sleep at this point. You were curled up on one side of your bed, hugging your pillow into your body for comfort. You laid there, feeling so empty and with so much emotion all at once. Your brain couldn’t exactly grasp it. Taehyung was literally down the fucking hall from you. He was just a few steps away from you. A few steps from wrapping his arms around you and making you feel like home once again.

A soft but rather small smile appeared on your face. At least he was safe and healthy. He looked so much better, glowing even. You then wondered how you looked. Did you look as you felt? Did he not hurt the way you did? Probably not.You sat up, legs already swinging off your bed. You were bound to drink some medicine so it could knock you out to the point where you’d wish you’d wake up with him already gone. You were already opening the door, ready to step out when you met Taehyung already outside your door, hand curled into a fist midair. 

“I—I fuck,” He sputtered out, hand falling beside his side. “I didn’t know you were awake.“

“Did you expect me to sleep soundly, Taehyung?” you genuinely prompted, the anger quickly igniting inside of you. Your voice was incredibly sweet, but dripping of venom. “Did you expect me to fall asleep so easily? Is that how you slept while you were away this time? Without a care in this fucking world? Liberated and running away like the coward you were and still are?”

Taehyung did not respond. His eyes had become watery as he barely spoke up, “I know what I did was shitty. I know what I did hurt you beyond believe. I can’t express just how much I was hurting too, okay? You think leaving was easy? You think being away from you was ever easy?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you finally spat out, causing him to flinch. “Don’t you fucking compare your pain to mine. You left without saying anything to me. You left nothing, nothing. Not even a single note, letter, or anything. And you left me wondering, stupidly worrying over you, but you obviously didn’t give a fuck. Instead you were living life in Venice ever so graciously.”

He was shaking his head to every word you were saying, disbelief written all over his features. “What do you mean, I didn’t give a fuck? Are you fucking blind, y/n? Did you honestly not know just how much you meant to me, and still do? For fucks sakes, I’m standing here, trying to apologize to you when I could be fucking other bitches, or even forgetting completely about you. So what the fuck do you mean by me not giving a fuck about you? And you’re pulling up Venice?”

His eyebrows were furrowing, trying to follow along. “You knew about me all this time? And you didn’t even try to at least contact me?””

“A friend of mine bought your painting and I recognized it the moment I saw it. And how could I after what she told me?” you bitted out, boring holes into him by now. “The world renowned artist, Kim Taehyung, an indie artist who lives in Venice. Happily living his life away with fucking bitches and enjoying his newfound wealth.” You recited the exact same thing Wheein had told you in her precise words.

She had burned the painting in front of you afterwards.

Taehyung simply scoffed and then began shaking his head in annoyance. “The Venice part is true, but in no moment did I ever touch anyone else that wasn’t you.”

“Stop,” you instantly warned him, his words becoming more of a blow that for some reason instead of consoling you it just kept adding to the flame inside your soul. “Stop saying things like that to me.”

“It’s true though,” he desperately urged out, sounding frustrated now. He ran his hands down his face, groaning as you seemed to be distancing yourself each time he opened his mouth. “Never once did I fuck anyone while I was over there. You wanna know why? Because my certain muse was waiting back home for me.”

“Fuck you!” you finally snapped, shoving him away from your entrance. “You don’t get to say shit like that when your actions prove you otherwise. Do you not see how you left me? I am here standing in front of you crying because I am a pathetic ass person who cared too much over someone who didn’t give a single fuck about me!”

His jaw ticked, seeming impassive and you fucking detested that. He never once showed an ounce of emotion and it always made you feel incredibly stupid. This time however, Taehyung finally snapped. “Don’t you fucking dare say I never gave a shit about you when I did. I showed you countless of times just how much you meant to me. For fucks sakes, I painted you so many times!”

He finally exploded, yelling back at you now. “Could you not fucking see it? How insane I was when you came into my life? You want prove?”

“No, what I want—”

“What?” He barked out and you bit the inside of your cheek, restraining yourself from physically assaulting him.

So you resonated with hurting him verbally instead. “I want you out of my life.” You decided, trying to convince yourself with that too.

“You sure you want that?” He challenged you and you were taken back by his assertiveness. It only infuriated you even more. Your fingers were curling up inside your palm, nails digging into your skin. The pain felt numbing compared to the bubbling hatred you were feeling inside. “If so, just say it straight to my face.”

Before you could control yourself, your fingers were fisting his shirt, crumpling it up as you brought him closer to you. He stumbled over, hand flying over to hold on to the doorway entry to stop himself from crushing you. You slowly gritted out with such defiance, “I. Want. You. Out. Of. My. Life.

By the time you were done uttering the last word out, your voice had begun to shake. Your fingers had loosen a hold of him and you felt utterly defenseless.

He leaned into you, getting on eye level, and lowly bit out, “And actually mean it.”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Sev—

“Get out and never fucking come back into my life!” you exploded, yelling at him now. You were quick in releasing him and shoving him away from you. “Get out!”

He stood there, without saying a single word. 

“Get out of my fucking apartment, out of my life, and out of my existence.”

“But I don’t want to,” his voice cracked and you halted, your throat feeling on fire from how hard it was to not cry in front of him. “I don’t want you to give up on me when I am standing right here, ready to give you everything and much more. I am standing here, and I am not leaving until your hatred for me goes away.”

What did he mean by that? What the hell was going on?

His hair was a mess from letting his fingers tug at it and just the sound of his broken and desperate voice was making you crumble all over again. “I don’t want to leave when it’s been a hell of a fucking year not having you around me, not seeing you smile over the dumbest of things, and not being able to hold you. It’s killing me, y/n.”

Tears were already spilling down your cheeks before you could stop them. With the sleeve of your shirt, you hastily wiped them away from your face since you were not going to let him see you cry. But he was right there, and he was back. He was back after such a long time and he was right there.

“I hate you for making me feel this way,” you sobbed out, finally breaking. Your shaking hands tugged at the strands of your hair in utter devastation. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I fucking hate you. I hate you so much Kim Taehyung. I hate you. I HATE YOU!”

Each word felt like a needle pricking into his heart, but seeing you break down like that? Taehyung wanted nothing but to beat the fuck out of himself as well.

“I am so sorry.” Tears were streaming down his face, he seemed at lost for words. “I am so fucking sorry.”

You both were unconsciously edging closer. As you were screaming at him how much you hated him, he was nearing you, his cries of  ‘I am so sorry’ contradicting yours. His hands tentatively framed your face, foreheads pressed against each other’s as you sobbed.  He was so careful in touching you. You felt his fingertips ghost your face so gently, the pad of his fingers wiping your tears away as he brokenly croaked out, “I hate myself for making you cry. I hate myself for leaving you like that, and I will continue to hate myself as long as you cry over me because I don’t deserve your tears, y/n.”

“Just—” you hiccupped, hands encasing over his. Your grip on him tightened, eyesight blurred and throat burning. “Just hold me, Taehyung.”

“Please, j-just hold me,” you sobbed out and Taehyung was wrapping his arms around you before you could finish that sentence. His hands were encasing your head, his mouth on your hair as he tried his best to mend you back into the person you were before he came into your life.

All your pain, hurt, and heartbreak had seeped into his veins. His own feelings had intensified and seeing you break down like that was enough to render him straight down on to his knees.  Being in Venice was hell. He was alone and his thoughts were constantly full of you and only you. There were times where he impulsively would try and run back into your arms, but he stubbornly reminded himself that you were better off without him. Seeing you now with your face dug into the crook of his neck, fingers digging into his clothes, he realized just how fucking wrong he had been.

Your feelings were as evident as ever and he blamed fate for separating you both like that.

“I’m sorry,” he held you close to him, whispering it until it was engraved in your mind. “Please forgive me, I’m so sorry. Give me a chance, give me a chance to prove just how much you mean to me. Please, just one. And if that doesn’t work, then I’ll let you go.”

You sighed, you were too drained. You felt completely exhausted, but Taehyung was running his fingers through your hair, still apologizing to you with tears in his eyes. At one point the both of you had slid down against the wall together. His hold on you would not loosen and by now you were resting your head against his chest, his breathing luring you to sleep as each minute passed. You were sitting in between his legs, eyes fluttering to a close.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he continued, sniffling. “I never meant to hurt you, please know that. Please, please know that none of this was intentional. I—, I, lo—”

“Okay,” you mumbled out, tilting your head back against his chest to glance at him. He glanced down, lips centimeters away from yours but you didn’t falter. “One chance. One chance to prove to me that all of what you’re saying is true. Actions tend to speak louder than words, Taehyung.”

“Okay, okay,” he was quick to agree. “One chance is all I need. And I’ll prove it to you, okay? Not for me, but for you.”

You returned back to your original position. You made yourself comfortable in his arms, eyes finally closing. A soft plead left your lips, “Are you going to leave in the morning?”

“Not unless you kick me out.”

You were out like a light after that.

 Hours later with the sun peeking in through the window sliding doors, you slowly stirred yourself awake. As you began to blink yourself fully awake, you realized you were no longer on the hallway floor, but on your bed. And Taehyung was beside you, hot breathing fanning the back of your neck. His arms were not only wrapped around you, curling you further into his own warmth, but his fingers had intertwined with yours as well. Never in your dreams, would you have imagined the day you’d wake up and realize you were still in Taehyung’s arms.

He didn’t leave.

He didn’t, but you needed to. It was almost noon and you knew your best friend would come barging in through that door in an hour or so. You heard him softly exhale, fingers twitching in your hold. He was waking up. You immediately closed your eyes, relaxed more into him, and evened out your breathing.

“I won’t fail you again.” He whispered out, fingers slowly pulling away from yours. You had your heart lodged in your throat, feeling him pull away. It was seconds later when you felt his fingers tracing yours, trailing up your arm, and then going back down. His touch must work wonders since you were lulled back to sleep in seconds. The second time you woke, he was gone. A note was messily written on your night stand and just as you were about to read it, Hyejin barged into your room.

“You deadass just woke up now? It’s two in the afternoon!”

You curled the note underneath your hand, your eyes zooming in on the jacket behind her. It was Taehyung’s jacket. Did he leave it behind? Will Hyejin turn around and recognize it?

“Y-Yeah,” you stammered out, screwing your eyes shut at being so damn obvious. “I- I think I smoked a little bit too much last night.”

“Well, hydrate yourself then.” She reprimanded, seeming worried now. “I’ll serve you some water, okay? Also, Joonie is out there and he brought us lunch!”

Oh fuck. Not only was she here, but Namjoon as well? You waited for her to leave your room until you uncurled the note.

‘I’m in your closet’

“Taehyung,” you gasped out and quickly ran over to your closet. You pulled the door open and saw him sitting there, playing Overwatch on his damn phone.

“I was going to wake you when I heard them, but then I heard her calling your name so I had a few seconds before I could write that and get in here,” he  sheepishly admitted and you found yourself grinning like an idiot at him despite everything.

He hadn’t left.

“I can give you a five minute window for you to make it out through the door. You’re going to have to be really fucking quick.”

“Damn it, y/n.” He began to then crawl out of the closet, mumbling nonsense into the air. “Okay, but before we do all of this, can you come over to my place tonight?” He was standing down, towering over you slightly.

“That quick?” you dryly humored out and Taehyung bit down on his bottom lip.

His next sentence was what did it for you. “You said I have one chance. It’s been 393 days since we’ve last seen each other and I’m not going to waste any more time between us.”

Your gaze met his. “I’ll text you when I’m there.”

Getting him out of there wasn’t exactly easy. You gathered Namjoon and Hyejin into her room, slamming the door shut behind you. How did you even manage to get them in the same room? Well you accused Namjoon of stealing your favorite chips and went over to complain to Hyejin who was already in her room.

“I did not touch your fucking chips,” he continued to defend himself, eyes narrowing. “This is called defamation and I will sue you, you nimrod.”

“This is called defamation and I will sue you,” you openly mocked him, knowing this would grate his nerves.

“You little—”

“You see!” you extended your arm, wiggling your finger at Namjoon as Hyejin seemed utterly done with the both of you. “He called me a bitch! Tell your boyfriend to stop stealing my food and calling me degrading names.”

“I did not call you a bitch.”

“Whatever,” you waved him off.

“Did smoking too much bud suddenly shorten the two brain cells you still had left?” He retorted, his index finger tapping the side of your head. “Hellooo, I know you’re already working hard, but can you try a little bit more?”

With slit eyes you slowly began approaching him. “I will castrate you in your sleep and choke you with your own—”

“Hey, hey!” Hyejin tried cutting in between the two of you.

“You’re on your period, right? That’s why you’re acting bitchier than usual.”

“Woah, woah!” Hyejin interrupted, a scowl placed on her lips. “Did you just pull that fucking card with two women in the room?”

Namjoon sighed, seeming utterly irritated, “I forgot what happens when thing number one joins thing number two.”

“You’re on fucking time out, Kim Namjoon.”

The five minute mark had passed.

“It’s okay.” You waved at them, but they were too busy debating between the two of them now. “I just remembered I ate them last night while I was high as fuck, whoops!”

It’s not like they heard you since they had begun bickering. Namjoon was actually sitting in the corner, face against the wall as they both tried to throw their opinions at each other. Without saying anything, you tiptoed your way out of there. Now all you needed was time to get ready for what was about happen tonight.

  -------

On the way to his new apartment, you wondered what would be the end of this story. Would you finally move on and leave? Would you finally be able to forget Kim Taehyung? You entered his penthouse, eyeing the place wearily as you made your way inside the low dimmed place. You then came to a slow stop once you came into view of the living room.

Paintings. You were surrounded by paintings of you.

From portraits, to abstract paintings, and even old sketches. El Museum de Amor was what it was written so intricately right on the center of his new wall. Judging by the new glamorous penthouse, you knew that it was him who wrote it. Your eyes brimmed with tears, an incredulous laugh emitting from your lips. Your trembling hand cupped your mouth in awe and utter shock. You were in utter disbelief since there was no way Taehyung had kept these hidden for so long. Each painting differed from one another, but one thing for sure was that his colors never did. He painted you with purples, pinks, blues, yellows, and a mixture of brown colors, enhancing you with the most beautiful, pastel colors.

Paintings of you doing daily, tribal things surrounded you, and you could tell they were old. Some included you with delicately made flowers surrounding you, enhancing the beauty that you never knew he saw in you. You traced the portrait, his emotions coming to life in your eyes after so long of waiting. It was as if you were seeing yourself through his eyes and all you saw was love. One thing that you noticed was how Taehyung had managed to beautifully shade in the stars in every single one of his paintings of you.

You are you’re own entity. You shine so brightly, silly. 

“I not only fell in love with you,” Taehyung spoke up, coming into view now. “But I fell irrevocably in love with painting you.”

You flipped a painting over, hands still shaking.

My muse, Silly.

It reminded you of the interview Wheein had showed you and Hyejin, which then proceeded by them two burning the painting together. Watching them set it on fire, tore you completely apart. Wheein was holding the painting as Hyejin held the lighter in her hand. You felt like an outsider just awaiting for the destruction that was about to commence. Hyejin lividly poured gasoline on it, screaming at an inanimate object until the tank was completely empty. Then she set it on fire and you could see the glimmer in her eyes as she watched it crumble beneath her fingertips.

 “Who is this mystery person?”

“Someone who I’ve tried to forget.”

“She must be very special then, since you know, to have the famous Vante painting her so intimately and beautifully.”

Taehyung was turned towards the screen, a saddened spark in his eyes.

“She is indeed. She was and still is my only muse and inspiration.”

 “I hated you for leaving me like that,” you suddenly told him, turning to face him. He was already behind you and you were ready to step into what was Kim Taehyung as a person. But first, there were still some questions unanswered. “Hyejin told me you both broke up and then when I went to see how you were doing you had packed up your bags and left.”

He was frowning now, eyes blazed. “I went to say goodbye to you but Hyejin told me you had gone out of town.”

“Well yeah,” you frowned, finding it all weird. “I left Sunday.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I went Friday.”

“We weren’t exactly on speaking terms when you left.” You clarified, still finding everything so uncorrelated and coming to terms at the same time.

“Fuck,” he swore underneath his breath. “Did you receive what I left there for you?”

“No?”

“It was the painting you left that day. I got it back the next day, you know, after Namjoon answered your phone that night.”

It was your turn to look in disbelief, “What?”

“The night that I broke up with Hyejin I called you and Namjoon answered.”

You began shaking your head, finding everything so confusing. “But, but there was no call from you that n—”

“I called you that night to tell you that I was in love with you.”

Oh fuck.

“The reason we broke up that same night was not necessarily because I wasn’t the same person when we met, but I had fallen in love with someone else.”

Staring at all the delicate and intricate paintings, you began to feel all of your questions being answered. The timing between the two of you was just incredibly fucked up.

“And rather than leading this relationship on, I was honest with her and that’s that. I broke up with her because the thought of not being with you was suffocating me so fucking much.”

You were blinking back tears, feeling so distraught by how much shit you both had been through because of the timing and uncertain events.

“So tell me why it took us this long to get to here then?” you said, sounding so heartbroken. “Tell me why in my dreams was the only way I could get to hear you say that you loved me?”

Everything was a mess, but here you both were. Taehyung was standing here in front of you, asking for another chance and here you were ready to give it to him. You were ready to dive back into him, hoping that this time you wouldn’t end up with a heart broken into bits of pieces. You were ready to fall even more in love with him. You knew it was possible.

“I love you,” he breathed out against your mouth, hands becoming firm on your hips now. There it was, the confirmation you’ve been desperately waiting for. His whole body was pressed against yours and your mind was racing as his eyes met yours.

“I am so stupidly and blindingly in love with you. It’s you who I’ve been trying to forget, but I can’t. No matter how hard I try to forget you, to forget the way you smiled at me, how your body was made for me, and how incredibly beautiful you are inside and out. I just fucking can’t.”

I love you.

“The reason why I left? I left because I was in love with you, y/n. I was in love with someone who I didn’t deserve. Someone who I have hurt so much in the process while I was with someone who I never truly loved. And I figured disappearing from your life would be better, but I didn’t mean to hurt you the way I did. I thought that doing this was going to be good for you and you’d be able to finally be happy.”

“Why?” you demanded, pushing him away from you. “Why couldn’t you have just talked to me like a normal human being instead of leaving this country and erasing yourself from my life like that? What the fuck were you thinking Taehyung?” your voice cracked, but the anger inside of you was finally dripping from your fingertips. 

“Do you have any idea how it felt to be in love with someone who wasn’t mine? To watch you with my best friend wishing that it was me in your arms instead of her? And then you leaving like that? Make me happy?” you scoffed. “Taehyung I was lost for so long and it’s not fair. You don’t get to decide what’s good for me. I get to decide that and if I strongly believe that it’s you, then it’s going to be fucking you.”

“You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long.” He slowly breathed out, inching closer to you now. “To—” he paused, tentative hands slowly inching closer to your face.

The pad of his fingers softly graced your face, awaiting your reaction before softly whispering, “To touch you like this.”

“Then do it Tae,” you whispered it out, hands cupping his face to have him closer to you. You softly brushed your lips against his, eyes fluttering to a close. “Please.”

His eyes glanced into yours before slowly fluttering to a close. Mouth softly molded against yours, his lips being tentative at first. But as Taehyung slowly kissed you, his hands wandered down your sides, carefully beginning to touch every curve of your body. Your heart soared as your lips heaved a gentle sigh into his mouth. You hadn’t felt so much emotion being put into a kiss, but yet again this was the man you were so in love with. His lips were tender and rendering you down so quickly, making your legs turn to mush and jelly all at once. It was slow and gentle, everything you ever hoped it would be with him. And then he abruptly pulled away from you, touch and sensation leaving with him.

There was a pause between the both of you as you both struggled to get a grip of one another. Something about the air was different as fleeting glances passed between the two of you. All you could do was stare intensely back at him as you both breathed in each other’s air from the proximity. And then as Taehyung gazed into your eyes with such fervor intensity, something clicked between the two of you.  Soul, heart, and passion vibrated throughout your body at the sensation of his touch because he was everywhere all at once. His fingers were already tangling themselves into your hair, tugging insistently as his mouth roughly met yours. Mouths clashed and pants began to emit from the both of you. A moan slipped past your lips at the sensation of his soft lips because it was finally happening. His cologne invaded your senses, making you even more stupid dizzy for this man.

His mouth missed yours from the excitement and his hot breath fanned against your skin as he nudged his knee between your legs, hoisting you up on his thigh, and pressing you further into him. Your skirt managed to ride up your thigh and Taehyung definitely did not miss the red, lacy thong adorning you so well.

“Much better,” he lowly breathed out against your mouth. You could feel his boxy grin against your lips and then you were kissing him again, melting and molding to his sync in just a few seconds. Soft moans emitted from you, body reacting before your already brain dead self could. You managed to wind up your arms around his neck, fingers pulling at the nape of his hair so desperately. His tongue was already slipping past, mouth sensually sucking down on your bottom lip.

Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.

Fingers left his hair and instead wandered down his chest, hastily beginning to rip his shirt apart since you needed to feel him. And Taehyung didn’t seem to mind it one bit since his lips never detached from yours as he aided you in those fleeting moments.

“Here, silly,” he mumbled it out against your lips, eyes fluttering to an open. A laugh emitted from his lips upon realizing just how utterly impatient you were in that moment.

He was just so undeniably hot. With his curly hair matted up, swollen pretty lips, white dress shirt ruffled and almost off his body, and the tone of his tan skin glowing under the dim lighting by his candles. This man was effortlessly so beautiful and he just confessed to you about being his fucking muse. You eyed his button up shirt was and hurriedly tugged it down without wasting any more time. You wanted to get to the part where he was pinning you against his mattress and fucking your insides out.

“When you left,” you began and he was nearing you again. Hands framed your face ever so delicately with his pretty adorned silver ring hands. “I wanted to go after you, but you weren’t mine to yearn for.”

“But I was,” he lowly admitted to you with earnest sincerity. He was breathing into you as his lips met yours. “Since the moment I met you, I was already yours.”

His gaze was enough to set your whole soul on fire. Hands felt all tingly, head was dizzy but not from the buzz, and all you wanted at the moment was him. In your mind all that echoed was his name, Taehyung. You felt bewitched as he nudged your nose with his, hot breath fanning your face. You felt his fingers twitch, and with one last glance you simply stood on the tip of your toes, and softly pressed your mouth against his.

You felt him smile against your mouth and that immediately made your heart blossomed. As your hands slowly began to wander up his chest, you felt a soft pink hue being gently stroked against the canvas of your heart. It was light and sincere and tentative. And as Taehyung deepened the kiss, that soft pink darkened.

All thoughts were wiped free from your mind as his lips began to trail down the side of your neck, sucking and marking to his liking. It was then Taehyung’s hands grasped the back of your thighs, swiftly lifting you up. With a knee nudged between your thighs, he backed you up against the wall, pressing himself against you. A soft gasp emitted from your lips since he was right there again, lips barely brushing yours so tentatively and slowly. Hot air fanned your face, and the way he was gazing at you made your insides quiver in delight and your poor heart stutter.

“I can feel how wet you are for me, baby,” he purred out, fingers mischievously dancing up your thigh. You were watching his teasing movements like a fucking hawk, just waiting for him to do something you already.

“y/n.”

You glanced up and Taehyung was just gazing into you so intensely, halting you.

His fingers caressed your body, slowly wandering up before encasing your face in his large, veiny, and pretty hands. With a clear and low voice, he said, “Do you want me as bad as I want you?”

You happily wrapped your arms around his neck, a dazed smiled plastered all over your face. Taehyung definitely didn’t miss that since he was kissing you all over again. Taehyung hadn’t moved a muscle though and it dawned upon you that he was waiting for confirmation once he quirked an eyebrow, eyes telling it all. You almost laughed since here you were, practically kissing the crook of his neck and eagerly waiting for him to bend you over and do his worse.

“Yes,” you spilled it into his mouth without hesitation. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Okay.”

A moment of realization dawned upon the both of you, but you figured you’d deal with this later. Right now, what you wanted was standing right in front of you and you were bound to get it once and for all.

“Lead the way,” you breathed out against his lips.

“Okay then,” he confirmed, beginning to lead the both of you into his bedroom. One hand was placed along your back while the other was set on your ass, gently squeezing. He groaned upon feeling the lace that was barely covering you, and you could feel him harden underneath you.

With a kick to the door, he swung it open and gave you a last peck on the mouth before gently laying you down on his king sized bed. He didn’t turn on the light, but you propped yourself up, watching as he roamed around his room, fingers running through his long hair. His back was facing you and you could feel your heart accelerate since even in the dim lighting, you could still make out his broad shoulders and defined back. He had definitely changed physically.

He arched an eyebrow, a smirk making its way already. “You want me to fuck you with your clothes on, baby?”

“I preferred if you take them off.”

“Oh?” He boyishly grinned. “Is that so?”

You simply let yourself fall back against the covers, teasingly spreading your legs for him. You heard a sharp inhale, followed by a guttural moan. You were beginning to shimmy out of your shirt when suddenly Taehyung was already climbing on the bed, hovering over you. Hands firmly encased yours, pinning them above your head.

“You’re killing me,” he whispered it out against your lips, eyes slightly darker. “I’ll strip you naked, then. If that’s what my baby wants, then I’ll give it to her.”

My baby.

His hands ripped your shirt open and you gasped in surprise. Taehyung watched as your expression went from instant shock to what seemed to be a slightly frightening pissed off one in just seconds. Your hands were already beginning to shove him away, since that shirt happened to be a favorite and he just ripped it like nothing. “Dude, why?” your eyes had turned to slits and Taehyung knew he had fucked up.

So naturally, he quickly began to spill out, “I’m sorry, fuck. I’ll buy you another one, shit, I’ll buy you whatever the hell you want tomorrow, okay? My wallet is yours.”

Your pissed expression suddenly wavered into a tiny pout and he knew he was in the clear now. “Okay,” you slowly relented, rolling your eyes. “You’re definitely buying me this exact same shirt.”

“Deal.”

“Okay now undress me,” you whined out suddenly and he definitely had no problem in complying with that. You watched as Taehyung practically moaned at the sight of you in just a maroon coated corset. He didn’t even need to take off your skirt to notice the matching set, nor the garters that complimented you so fucking well.

The corset tied around your body, almost like a present to him.

“My little present, huh? Can I unwrap you now?”

“Please,” you impatiently whined out.  

He bent down where the end of the red silky string ended. With his teeth, he grazed your skin as he teasingly dragged it down, slowly unraveling you to him with such ease. You could feel his hot breath fan against your skin. He stopped suddenly, his gaze just wandering your body from head to toe in such awe. His attention to detail was definitely there since his artistic eyes were just brushing and tentatively painting your body with his gaze alone. It was when your hands were coming around to cover yourself when he snapped out of his stupor.

“Nope,” he kissed you, pinning your hands away from your body. “My art.”

“I—” you began, stunned.  

“So beautiful,” his lips were kissing your thoughts away. And then they were marking  away down the base of your throat, licking down on your collarbones, and then his lips immediately went to your nipple, tongue swirling momentarily around it. You squeezed your thighs, trying to find some kind of release as he puckered his lips and sucked. He was definitely enjoying himself since you found him humming along to whatever song was playing. Your brain was muffled by the sensation of his lips to recognize the song he was so keen on singing along to.

“So pretty,” he languidly purred out, a teasing grin laced on his pretty face. He was watching you, tongue swirling around your bud as you both gazed into each other’s eyes. You softly moaned, hands desperately beginning to search for his body. You just wanted to hold him, to feel him against your body, and to feel his lips grace yours so hotly and animalistic simply because you craved for him.

You’ve been yearning for him for so long that all you wanted was to feel him move inside of you.

“Taehyung, I need you to fuck me already,” you heaved out, your impatience getting the better of you.

However, Taehyung was quick to hover over you, pinning your arms against the bed as his lips grazed yours. He was dizzying you again, causing your head to spin from the proximity.  “I am appreciating my art. So you’re going to wait until I am fucking done, understand?”

You thickly swallowed, nodding. He didn’t take that as an answer though. “I didn’t hear you, love.”

“Yes,” you whimpered out and Taehyung’s grin just made your thighs a dripping mess.

He was already in between your legs again, tongue lapping up every single drop. Hands were firmly splayed against your hips, keeping you still as his puckered lips sucked on your clit without pausing. Oh, oh my fucking god. Taehyung was quick to catch on your mannerisms, figuring out the way your body worked with such ease simply because he already knew you inside and out.  Watching as you propped yourself on your elbows, mouth opening and closing frantically. These loud ass moans could rival a pornstar and Taehyung couldn’t breathe just from how hard his dick was.  

“Oh God,” you softly gasped out, your body jerking slightly at the movement of his fingers. Slick covered your ass and thighs as Taehyung pumped in two digits inside of you. He curled them inside of you and you knew his hands were more than capable of making you cum with such ease. You loved his hands and watching his fingers disappear inside of you so harshly, as if you were being used to his liking excited you more than you could think of.

“Oh fuck!” you choked out, fingers fisting the sheets beneath you. “Tae, I’m so close, so close, soclosesoclose.” You screwed your eyes shut, crying out as he replaced his fingers with his tongue. With a few strokes and a mild slap to your cunt, you jerked forward and came without a warning.

Oh fuck, so this is what you’ve been missing. Your breathing was in pants, legs shaking, and head spinning. Taehyung definitely knew what the fuck he was doing. And that fucker just laughed, hands massaging your thighs.

“You done for the night?” he teased you, boxy smile growing. “Wanna take a shower and go to bed, Grandma?”

“Fuck you,” you laughed as you managed to sit up. Your body was practically yearning for more at this rate. You just didn’t want to boost his goddamn ego. He was good, great even if he could make you see stars with just his hands and mouth. You wondered if you would pass out if he fucked you now.

“That’s the plan, baby,” he cheekily replied, winking at you even. You didn’t know what to do besides smacking your hand on his forehead and trying to push him away from between your legs.

“Oh no, no.” He tilted his head to make your hand slip down his face instead. He bit your palm and rasped out, “I gotta clean all of my mess first.”

With his hand, he motioned for you to lay down and you did as you were told.

“Tae,” you tugged at his hair, trying to get him on top of you instead, but Taehyung was busy kitty licking you clean, softly singing, “If you want it, you can have it.”

His mouth hovered over your sensitive bud, slightly nudging it with his tongue. You dug your heels into his bed, getting worked up all over again. Then he proceeded to challenge you, “You think I can make you cum again, baby?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded without thinking, chest beginning to raise and fall. His grin was wicked, yet charming. His mouth though kept slurping away the mess he had made out of you. He hummed against your hole and your legs quivered at the sensation.

“Tae, please,” you began, pushing him away with your hands.

He raised an eyebrow, tongue sweeping his bottom lip.  “Yeah?”

“I want you to fuck me already, goddamn it.” You exasperatedly told him.

“I think, I’ll fuck you with these on,” he smirked, fingers hooking underneath your red garter. Just the sensation of his fingers on your skin, ignited the anticipation inside of you.

Do whatever you please, just fuck me already.

His hands were already unbuckling his belt, whipping out before throwing it behind him. His gaze alone made you swallow thickly since the way he just looked at you told you what he was planning to do to you. Once his pants and underwear were gone, you were already meeting him on the edge of his bed, hands sliding up his arms.  You stood before him, smiling so widely.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” you sincerely uttered it out, finding yourself breathless once meeting his eyes.

He caressed your cheek, arm winding around your body to pull you flush against him. “If I could capture the essence of how beautiful you are, I wouldn’t share it to the world. Call me selfish for wanting you all for myself, but it took us three years to get here where I can finally call you mine.”

He was lifting you up once again, gently placing you down on his mattress. You could feel his cock press against your stomach and you simply welcomed him between your legs so naturally.

“You sure?” He asked once again, trying to reaffirm himself in a sense.

“Make me yours,” you said without hesitation, games and teasing falling off the table now. Your heart, mind, and body were in unison as you kissed him immediately to reassure him that it was okay.

As your mouth deliciously met his, he slowly slid into you. He swallowed your moan in his mouth, hips bottoming down against your body. A grunt emitted from his mouth as you squeezed around him, starting to milk his cock. His hands had gotten busy with your hair, fingers tangling themselves as he slowly began to push himself into you. All you could do was muffle your moans by biting down on his shoulder, nails digging into his side. He was in between your legs, hips sensually moving against your body. Finally. You could feel his cock move against you and your toes were curling at the sensation of having him finally fuck you dizzy like you always wanted. Your mind was whirling and your body sighed in contentment. His weight on top of yours, his hands roaming down your body, and the feeling of his soft pants emitting on to your lips was just too much. Taehyung was praying nonsense into air, he too was getting senseless and lost inside of you.

“Oh god,” you whimpered out softly, hot pants heavily emitting from your lips. His cock pulsed against your tight hole, driving shameless whimpers from you over and over until he was the only thing engraved in your mind.

His big hands were splayed against your thigh, fingertips slowly dragging down your skin, squeezing and marking to his liking. His mouth ghosted across your neck, sucking and grazing his teeth between your breasts.

“Yes, yes, fuck,” you moaned out, practically shivering against him. He was a quiet lover, except for an occasional grunt and soft moans that vibrated against your warm skin.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned out, his hips grinding against yours. He was gripping on to your thigh, fingers tugging at your garter so harshly that it started to slide down.

“I—Ah, ngh, Taehyung,” you were practically mewling. And Taehyung was relentless as he kissed you suddenly to swallow the whimpers emitting from your lips because he felt he was going to cum at the sounds you were making just for him.

“You’re so loud for me baby,” he cooed out, shamelessly praising you. “My baby is so responsive for me, so fucking hot.”

“Mhm,” you ate it all up, hands greedily marking his back as he slammed inside of you. His hips were rolling down, practically grinding against your pubic bone.

“Paint your pretty body with my hands,” he hotly sucked the tip of your earlobe, earning a sharp inhale from you as your response. “With my lips,” he continued, his lips softly ghosting your skin. “mark you and brand you with my name written all over you skin.”

“Yes, yes, do whatever you want,” you whimpered out, legs beginning to tremble.

He suddenly cupped you’re face rather firmly, momentarily slowing down his movements. As he slowly panted out each word, he rolled his hips, hitting your sensitive spot over and over again. “You’re mine, you hear me? No one can touch you but me.”

Done.

“I’m yours,” you shameless repeated it to him, eating up everything that was leaving his pretty mouth. “Ah, I, ah always been.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” you instantly moaned out. Taehyung’s fingers were tracing your lips, watching as he fucked you silly and you responded to his demands so easily.

“Suck,” he demanded, and you happily obliged. With puckered lips, you swirled your tongue around his finger before sucking briefly.

“I know my baby can take more,” he cooed out, slowly deep throating his fingers down your throat. You gagged around his long, slender fingers, soon hollowing out your cheeks to fully take them in rather happily. He was quick in sliding them in and out, letting you do all the dirty work. And you happily obliged to his bidding, coating his pretty and delicate fingers with your saliva.

“Such a pretty, messy baby,” he groaned out at the sight of you. He removed his fingers from your mouth and with his pretty tongue, he licked and sucked to your echoing moans.

He used your headrest as leverage, hips grinding against yours as low, guttural moans left his pink lips. His eyes were screwed shut and you clenched so deliciously around him that he let out a small ‘oh fuckohfuckohfuck’ in return.

“I’m so close,” you cried out, legs wrapping around his waist. Your heels were digging into his skin, fingers pressing into every curve of his body. He moved your body against the bed, chest pressed against yours, hands beginning to intertwine with yours. Foreheads were pressed against each other’s and you both were breathing in the same heated, desperate for release of air into each other’s mouths.

“Yeah?” He panted out against your mouth, hips stuttering as you felt your body jerk. “Is my baby close?”

“Mhm,” you whimpered out again, back beginning to arch off the bed. Your heels were digging into his ass and tears began to prick your eyes from the intensity.

“Taehyung,” you cried out, eyes squeezing to a close. Legs had begun to tremble, toes were curling, and then your body stuttered and all you could feel was a hot blazing white overwhelming you.

Taehyung came with your name in his mouth and lips desperately finding yours. Your fingers instantly lost themselves into his hair, body melting and molding with his. He was still in between your legs, arms encasing you whole. His arms slid beneath yours, hands still tugging at your hair as you breathlessly continued to kiss him.

“I am so love with you, you know?” he suddenly sprung up on you, voice laced with so much emotion. His voice was breathy, and low. 

You simply gazed at him, happiness overwhelming you wholeheartedly.

“Taehyung, I am so in love with you,” you softly told him, your fingers tenderly caressing his face. “Since the moment you walked into my life, I have been in love with you.”

As he gazed at you with stars in his eyes, you remembered what he had told you the first day you had met him. How he had contradicted your viewing of how the stars seemed like background. In a sense, you felt as if you were the stars, sometimes covered by clouds, dying with time, and overlooked because you were always there. And then he came into your life and showed you that the stars were magnificently beautiful in every way. 

“Have you ever considered that the stars alone don’t need the sun and the moon? They are their own separate entity. They shine brightly with, or without them.”

“They are uniquely beautiful. And the whole romance between the sun and the moon is bittersweet since yeah they were once together in a sense, but they don’t complement each other. The stars do.”

“I love you, silly.” He softly reminded you once again, nose nudging yours so sweetly.

You brought him down towards you, kissing him as you confessed into his lips, “And I love you.”

It was during the time where the sun started peeking in through his blinds that you laid wide awake. Taehyung was sound asleep, arms around your body, lips on the crook of his neck, and you could feel his even breathing on your skin. His hair was all matted up from running your fingers through it and you were so fucking happy. A variety of colors painted your heart and you couldn’t wait until you got to see the masterpiece he had created inside of you. There was one thing standing in the way though, something that wasn’t exactly letting you fall asleep in his arms. You wondered if your best friend would set on fire that masterpiece that you called your heart once she found out you were with Taehyung.

#bts smut #bts bangtan boys #bts imagines #bangtan #bts jhope #bts jungkook #jimin smut #smut #bts #kim taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyungsmut #tae smut #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #hoseok smut #seokjin smut

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

Remember Me (4/???)

I AM SO FUCKING SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO FINISH. Honestly I lost a lot of motivation to write after Bloodbound because PB has greatly decreased in the quality of their books. I am still trying to find the time and motivation to write and am forcing myself to finish my series at the very least but if I am being completely honest I feel like the Kamilah fandom has died, PB’s books mostly suck and I don’t even really play choices anymore. Who knows, I’m trying to learn to write the code for episode so maybe I’ll start posting my own stories and choices on that platform with better plot, smut and less diamond focus since it would be a hobby. This chapter is ASS and mostly just moves the plot along - so if you want action I would wait for a different series or later chapter - okay bye!

Pairing: Adrian x MC x Kamilah (Amy)

Tags: I paused the tag list since it’s been so fucking long but if you want a tag please let me know because I’m pretty sure most people think this series died with me :)

Words: ~1500 (Short because I needed to finish a chapter to motivate me to finish the next)

Kamilah took a deep breath as she knelt on the floor beside Adrian, carefully wrapping her arms around her brother, her heart sinking with every sob that left his lips. She didn’t speak, she knew her words would come off too harshly and she couldn’t blame Adrian for feeling that way, after all she knew how much he loved Amy. 

“Adrian, I’m sorry. I...I truly don’t know what to say.” As their eyes met Kamilah saw exactly how devastated he was, and even in her two thousand years of life, she had never been in his situation. 

“Kamilah, do you think she’ll...well she says we’re just friends but do you think she’ll fall in love with me again?” His lips trembled, his hands shaking and his eyes glistened with tears. 

“I don’t know. As much as I believe love is a silly mortal affair, and a simple chemical reaction, it can’t be forced but I’m sure if you just be yourself and do your best to be her friend that any romantic feelings will follow.” Kamilah moved away as Adrian calmed himself, both of them passing a nod of agreement as he wiped his face clean with tissues. 

“Your wisdom has always guided me well Kamilah.” 

“I suppose that is two thousand sixty three years of experience speaking.” 

“Heh, I guess my two hundred years don’t nearly compare...” 

“You’re still a simple child in my eyes, I just took a liking to you.”

“Well, thank you Kamilah. It seems I owe you quite a bit.”

They both stood from the floor and took seats on Adrian’s office couch, Kamilah folding her legs and crossing her arms and Adrian crossing his ankles and folding his arms. 

“We’re practically siblings - you don’t owe me anything. Just try to take care of yourself and well...don’t expect anything from Amy. I’m sure this is difficult for her, difficult is an understatement. I can’t imagine what she’s experiencing.”

“Maybe I’ve been too selfish Kamilah...I’ve been thinking more about what I want from her instead of focusing on if she’s okay or what she wants.” 

“Sometimes it’s alright to be selfish, and I can understand why you felt that way but you are correct, we need to focus on what Amy wants now, not what she wanted before the accident.”

“You’re absolutely right. I can only hope for the best...I just really...I really wanted...I believed she was the one.” 

“I know you did. I wanted her to be the one for you as well, I still hope she comes back to you Adrian.”

“Me too.” 

Adrian’s phone buzzed at the same time Kamilah’s did, Lily having texted both of them to rendezvous with her and Jax at Amy’s old apartment to talk about the recent events. 

“We should go, but do you feel okay?” Kamilah patted Adrian’s shoulder as they both stood from the couch.

“Yes I think so.” They hurried to the elevator and got into Adrian’s black Mercedes as they navigated towards Lily’s apartment. Once they arrived Lily greeted them before guiding them up to the apartment where Jax waited on the couch with a beer in hand.

“Hey guys...how ya doin?” His words were slurred and he was obviously under the influence to a decent extent. 

“Tell me you have something other than beer Lily.” Kamilah grimaced as Jax took another swig of the beer. She had no problem with beer but she hated that brand and would rather remain sober than allow herself to drink that brand. 

“Yeah, vodka or wine?”

“Vodka.” Kamilah spoke without hesitation while Adrian grabbed a beer from the fridge and took a seat next to Jax on the couch. Lily began to pour Kamilah a shot, and once the glass was full Kamilah took the bottle from her and took two large gulps before sitting on the leather chair and holding the bottle with one hand. 

“So we’re here to get drunk? I thought we were supposed to talk about Amy?” Kamilah’s voice broke the deathly silence that filled the room. Adrian leaned in the door before removing his tie, unbuttoning his shirt and, grabbing three bottles of the cheap beer and sinking into the recliner opposite of Lily and Jax. 

“I didn’t want to drink...well grieve...alone. I mean I can’t do this with Amy anymore...well I could but it wouldn’t be the same... and I have my friend back but it’s really just...it’s not the same. I don’t know I just didn’t...you can leave if you want but I didn’t want to grieve alone…” Lily began to sob, her tears falling into her glass of wine as Jax and Adrian frowned. Kamilah held her stoic expression, but even the alcohol could not erase the ache she felt in her chest.

“I see, well I guess we all process grief differently…” Kamilah spoke calmly, but deep down she felt her own sense of grief. As she gazed around she realized how messy Jax’s hair and clothes were, and how exhausted and drained Lily was. “You guys look a mess…”

“Thanks Kamilah.” Jax drunkenly snickered and Lily sniffled. Adrian remained quiet, taking a long drink from the bottle in his hand before switching to the other glass and downing it just as quickly. 

“Does this not fucking hurt you?” Lily drunkenly scolded as Kamilah flinched ever so slightly. None of them had ever heard Lily so fragile, so devastated. She had every reason to be - she had lost her best friend - even though Amy had survived the accident, the memories were all gone and everything they had once shared was gone. 

“It...does...I was just remarking on-”

“I don’t care about your remarks, at least not now. Don’t you fucking get it? I lost my fucking best friend and I have to watch her find everything again! Do you know how that fucking feels Kamilah? I’m sure you do from all your time as a vampire, but please, for the love of god and for the sake of our friendship just shut the fuck up. I can’t handle this.” Lily’s hand gripped on her bottle as it shattered against her palm, the beer pouring onto the tile floor and seeping into the edges of the carpet. 

“I...apologize Lily…”

“It’s fine! It’s fine! Everything is fine I guess. I don’t know I just...I’m not coping well...and I feel guilty for saying that because Amy has it the hardest of us all and yet here I am getting wasted to be in her position - to forget everything while also being the person who put her in this position in the first fucking place. I don’t think it’ll ever be the same as it was before…”

“Maybe that’s for the best…” Adrian finally joined the conversation. Kamilah, Lily and Jax turned to face him as he swirled the bottle around in his hand - his brown eyes shiny from the tears that had built up. “...we all lost someone...Amy was a different person to each of us...but maybe we have to lose that person for some reason…”

“Adrian, do not try to give me that ‘it’s for the best’ bullshit.” Lily took a deep breath as Adrian shrugged. 

“I’m not. I guess it’s just the alcohol talking, but I was going to propose to Amy that night and maybe it was a sign I shouldn’t have, or maybe the world is punishing me for my sins...but fuck all of that...it’s...it’s a forgotten memory and we need to forget just like Amy...”  

---------------- Amy’s POV ------------------

It was a weird feeling that I couldn’t describe. Having people who seemed like strangers tell me all about the things we’ve done together gave me such comfort and anxiety at the same time. I wanted to believe and trust each of them but at the same time, it would be so easy to lie about it. Maybe I’m just being paranoid about the situation - nobody would really benefit from creating an elaborate story just to mess with my mind. 

God this IV really stings...and now that I’m thinking about it, my ribs really hurt too. I should call the doctor or nurse but it’s nearly midnight. I mean it’s their job but they’re humans and I don’t want to be that super needy patient…

At least that Lily girl seems genuine, I can see why I was her best friend. I appreciate her sincerity more than I can verbalize to her. I’m still wary of Jax though - that man looks like he could kill in an instant and I don’t want to get on his bad side. I’m glad they’re friends with each other though - they seem to get along really well and...Adrian. Poor bastard. I broke his heart. I broke his heart and I can’t even help it. How am I supposed to even really process that whole fucking mess. He’s so sweet and gentle and genuine and I can’t even reciprocate it back to him...but maybe with time I could…? But Kamilah...she makes my heart skip a beat too...but she’s so unlike anyone I’ve even taken interest in - callous and stoic most of the time with very few soft spots. It wouldn’t be any type of understatement to claim my heart is as confused as my head. 

#kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #kamilah the bloodqueen post

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 23

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~~~

She pouted. “Ew. What’s with the ultimatum?”

“I have two younger brothers. I’m not stupid.”

"Fine. Whatever. I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Please.”

She gave him a small shove. “I was going to make cookies after, but I guess you don’t want any.”

His eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

A grin spread across her face as she got up and started grabbing herself some pajamas. “No cookies for you... unless you learn to grovel in the twenty minutes I’ll be in the shower.”

“Twenty minutes? Why do girls always take so long?”

“Not starting off well, are we?” She hummed, before slipping into her bathroom.

When she came out, her hair in a towel, he immediately wrapped her in a hug. “Ladybuuuuug, light of my liiiiiife --.”

Her nose scrunched up as she shoved his face away. “Ugh. I’d rather be insulted.”

“I can arrange that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Surprisingly, I’d prefer if you didn’t do either. What type of cookies do you want?”

“Macarons?”

She sighed. Well, at least she could give some to Tikki, she supposed. The kwami certainly deserved at least a cookie. “Fiiiine. The neighbors are going to hate me.”

“What? Why?”

“You’ll see,” she said cryptically as she started to pull out ingredients.

He waited until she had started whipping the eggs to insult her: “For a designer, your place is suuuuper boring.”

She opened her mouth to defend herself, then paused. “Wait, how’d you know I was a designer?”

The man’s eyes widened and he seemed to be mulling over how to answer, but he was saved from making up an excuse by a rapping on the window. They looked over to find a glaring Red Robin.

Marinette raised her eyebrows and turned off her mixer. Then she opened the window for him. “Hey.”

He was looking right past her, though, the offended expression on his face clear as day. “I cannot believe you came to visit Marinette without all of us! That’s not allowed!”

Red Hood frowned. “But isn’t that what you were doing?”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“But I’m not! I’m just saying that --.”

She left the brothers to bicker as she went to work on the macarons. She smiled to herself as she piped the little circles, then glanced back at the pair, who were pretty much arguing the same points over and over. She considered giving a warning, then decided it would be more fun if she didn’t.

She banged the baking tray on the counter to get the air bubbles out. Red Hood screeched. Red Robin’s head hit the ceiling.

She grinned as she set down her tray.

“Why would you do that?” Whispered Red Hood.

She gave a small shrug. “Needed to.”

She ignored their protests as she walked to her coffee maker, then glanced at Red Robin. “Want any?”

“The good stuff, right?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m not going to cheap out on a vigilante. The way some of you guys are you’d probably shoot me.”

Red Hood huffed. “You shoot one person, ninety times and suddenly it’s your thing.”

She blinked. “Is that a joke?”

“Yeah.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

“I’ve actually shot ninety people, one time each.”

She didn’t know if that was much better.

Red Robin frowned. “I only know of around eighty.”

“Don’t tell Bats.”

Before either of them could respond, they heard someone knock on the window again. She glanced up to see Nightwing and…

Oh, come on! Why did he have to bring him along?

Red Hood let the others in with a small smile. “Hey.”

Marinette could feel Nightwing watching her carefully as she walked over. She knew he was looking for any sign she was injured, so she attempted to mimic her normal walking pattern.

“You’re walking a little weird, are you alright?” The oldest said, a smug grin on his face.

She was saved from thinking of an excuse as Red Robin walked over and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Maybe if you weren’t watching her walk she wouldn’t be overthinking it so much.”

She blinked in surprise, looking up at him. Had he not noticed her walking weird earlier? Or did he have a reason for lying? She didn’t think he did, so her limp must not be all that noticeable.

She looked at Robin. ‘Marinette’ had no problems with the vigilante, they’d never met before. She would have to be nice to him to keep her identity. She beamed and held a hand out. “It’s nice to meet you!” She chirped.

He blinked once. Then slowly, hesitantly, shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”

The coffee machine beeped and the two addicts’ eyes lit up instantly. They walked over as a pair, both eager to drink some caffeine (Marinette’s withdrawal was killing her), but then a realization struct them. They eyed each other warily. They’d made only one pot of coffee. Sharing it would be...

She sighed and pulled away from him. He looked a bit apologetic but Red Robin was never one to turn down coffee.

She sighed. Fine. She’s got to drink something. She reached under her cupboard and pulled out some wine. “You guys can all have this, right?”

Before anyone could respond, Nightwing had snatched the drink from her hands. “It doesn’t matter because you can’t drink!”

Marinette raised her eyebrows. “It’s legal in my country.”

“But not in ours! Where you are currently staying! How did you even get your hands on this?”

She couldn’t tell him that she had gotten it as Ladybug because she knew the clerk wouldn’t ask for her ID, so she just shrugged innocently and tried to change the subject: “You’re more uptight than my actual mom.”

Nightwing scoffed. “Whatever.”

A grin tugged at her lips as she got an idea. “How about a bet? I call my mom and ask her. If she says I can have it, you have to let me drink. If she says no, I’ll give you all the wine in my apartment.”

“THIS ISNT YOUR ONLY ONE?”

“Obviously not.”

His eyes narrowed. “Fine! Call her!”

She grinned and pulled out her phone. She hid the screen with the illusion of hiding her password when really she was just getting rid of the thousands of notifications she’d gotten while she was out. She searched for a bit before facetiming her mom.

The boys clustered around her curiously. Red Robin rested his elbow on her shoulder, sipping at the coffee. Red Hood sat on her other side, his cheek pressed against hers despite her halfhearted protests. Nightwing was forced to stand on the tips of his toes to see and confirm that she was actually calling her mom. Robin stood behind the phone, peeking over to see.

“Maman!” She cheered as Sabine’s face appeared on the screen.

The woman blinked in surprise at all the vigilantes around her, then apparently just chose to accept it as a fact. “You haven’t called in ages!”

Her face reddened slightly. “Maman! Not in front of my friends!”

Sabine huffed. “Fine. We’ll talk about it later.”

Marinette gulped and nodded. The bat kids all gave her sympathetic looks. The feeling of ‘oh crap I missed to many of my parent’s calls’ is almost universal.

“Hi, Mrs. Cheng!” Chirped Red Hood, beaming. “We’re adopting your daughter!”

The poor girl squeezed her eyes shut. “No. No you’re not.”

“Right, right, of course.” He nodded, then leaned forward conspiratorially. “It’s supposed to be a surprise. We’re adopting her. Don’t tell her.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and shoved his face away. “Don’t mind him. He’s stupid.”

“Hey!”

She decided that she should get this call over with before either side could embarrass her. “This is Nightwing.” She pointed him out. “He thinks you won’t let me drink.”

Her mother laughed, rolling her eyes. “This is all you called for? Of course you can.”

Nightwing’s face reddened. “It’s illegal to drink underage!”

“We’re French,” said Marinette with a sigh. She smiled. “Thanks! I’ll call you back when they’re not here! Bye, I love you!”

“Love you, too!”

She hung up quickly, despite everyone’s protests, and set her phone down. She gave Nightwing a cheeky grin. “Told you.”

The man scowled. “I can’t believe this. You’re a child.”

She grinned and pulled away from everyone. She brought down some glasses and glanced back at Red Robin. “Hey, you drinking or are you good with just coffee?”

He mulled it over, then shrugged. “I’ll take some, I guess. It sucks to be the only sober one of the group.”

She gave a small nod. “Makes sense. Someone put the cookies in the oven. Someone else set a timer for, I don’t know, eight minutes and we’ll check on it.”

Robin ended up popping the macarons in because he was closest. Red Hood took out a phone (dang it, it didn’t even have any cool features for her distinguish, it was just a black phone case) and set a timer.

She poured out five glasses, much to Nightwing’s dismay. She waited for him to complain about giving Robin any, which would give a pretty good confirmation that they were the Waynes as he was still underage, but he didn’t. She was left to wonder if she was wrong about her assumption or if he knew what she was trying.

The tiny pout on her face disappeared as they clinked glasses. She plopped herself down on the counter and watched them drink. For the French, drinking was mostly a social thing that you did at a slow pace. For Americans...

Dang, are they even tasting it?

She rolled her eyes. “The wine will still be here in a few minutes.”

Red Robin grinned. “Not at this rate it won’t.”

She had to give him that. He really wasn’t wrong.

“Wanna play a drinking game?” Asked Red Hood.

Nightwing scowled. “No.”

“You don’t have to join in. I’d love to,” said Robin.

Hm. Maybe he was Damian Wayne. At the very least, he was definitely underage, if that look on his face was anything to go by.

Well, then he’d definitely be a lightweight. She suppressed a snicker at seeing the normally uptight vigilante without inhibitions, vaguely wondered if he would be just as annoying when drunk. Also, maybe, she wanted to spite Nightwing a bit for trying to keep her away from alcohol.

“Sure, I’d love to see what you Americans do for drinking games.”

She smiled ‘innocently’ at the glare Nightwing sent her.

They sat in a circle and she sighed as she tipped her head back to rest on the couch. “Really? I thought people only did Never Have I Ever in movies.”

“It’s fun!” Defended Red Hood. “And a good way to get to know each other, since you and Robin haven’t met.”

The pair in question gave each other wary looks from across the circle.

She sighed. “Fine. Never have I ever been a vigilante.”

Red Hood raised an eyebrow at her and she grinned at him, daring him to call her out on her lies right in front of Nightwing; he lost, obviously, and took a drink. Red Robin grinned as he tipped his head back to drink. Robin beamed at the excuse and downed his drink with only a little bit of coughing afterwards. Nightwing glared at her over the rim of his glass.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get us drunk.”

She rolled her eyes. “The minute I brought out the wine it was going to happen anyways. Thought I’d speed it up.”

He gave her a suspicious look but complied with the rules of the game.

She poured them all new glasses.

“Fine. My turn.” Nightwing gave her a cutting look. “Never have I ever designed an outfit.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “So bitter.”

“You’re one to talk.”

She could only laugh in response. She downed her glass and smiled as she poured herself another.

Robin grinned. “My turn, I guess.” He tapped his finger on his chin. “Never have I ever... attempted murder.” He took a drink. As did every single vigilante in the room.

Marinette blinked. “Is that allowed?”

“Who cares?” Said Robin brightly.

Fair enough.

Red Hood crossed his legs. “Never have I ever...” He  smirked. “Surrogate son-ed my own brothers.”

The oldest cursed and took a drink. “This isn’t how this game is supposed to work.”

“We’re ‘getting to know each other’,” said Red Robin with a small wink.

Marinette grinned and got up to pull the cookies out of the oven, setting them out to cool and narrowing her eyes when she saw Nightwing hadn’t refilled his drink. She stared him down until he did.

She pulled out some more glasses of wine. At this rate, they’d get through her whole supply within the hour.

The moment she saw his face she knew Red Robin was going to get her. “Never have I ever... lived in France!”

She scoffed and took a drink. “Too easy.” She tipped her head to the side. Who hadn’t had any in a while? Damian was going to get himself to drink, so he wasn’t a problem... Her eyes zeroed in on Red Hood, who paled a little. “Never have I ever dropped by my house with the intention of hanging out with me alone.”

Red Hood and Red Robin both drank. Oh yeah. He’d done it, too. Whatever, he needed to drink again anyways.

Nightwing looked affronted. “That’s no fair! We come as a team or not at all! Never have I ever died!”

Marinette was horrified as she watched everyone except for Red Robin and Nightwing take a drink. “You what?!”

“Long story,” Robin waved her off vaguely. “It’s a Robin thing.”

She frowned. Then she remembered Desperada. She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly and took a drink.

“YOU WHAT?!” Yelled Red Hood.

“Long story,” she said with a small grin. “It’s a Paris thing.”

Robin laughed and shook his head slowly. “Great. I love her,” he said.

She snickered. “Man, how much of a lightweight are you?”

He only shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out. Never have I ever...”

And so, they continued on like that. Calling each other out on stupid things they’d done in stupidly specific ways, telling each other stories. It was fun, and she actually did find herself enjoying it, even if they were exposing the hell out of her.

Red Hood was conscious, but only barely. He laid next to Robin, practically screaming the words to Six in his ear.

Lucky for said vigilante, he had passed out a few drinks in and now laid in the middle of the circle, a few empty bottles were perched precariously on his stomach, wobbling unsteadily with every breath.

Nightwing stared at the ceiling with a mostly blank look on his face. He was mumbling to himself. She swore he was talking about the meaning of life.

Red Robin almost seemed sober, which was shocking because he’d easily drank the most. He smiled calmly as he sipped at his now-cold coffee, seeming content to just relax with his family.

Marinette, the least drunk because she hadn’t been known as long, smiled as she slowly pushed herself to her feet. She walked over to the macarons and looked at them for a few seconds. She’d thought she would get them done that night, but she was realizing that a pattern was emerging: she’d never finish baking anything if the vigilantes came by.

She set the cookies in the freezer to preserve them and hummed to herself as she set a blanket over Red Hood. “Sleepy time!” She chirped.

The grown man pouted at her. “I don’t wannaaaaa!”

She laughed and shook her head. “Well, you gotta. Sleep. And you’re sharing a blanket with Robin, I don’t have a lot.”

He pouted but did what he was told.

She smiled and set a blanket over Nightwing next. He barely even seemed to register the action.

That done, she sat down next to Red Robin and wrapped a blanket around them both. “You think you can carry these three home?” She asked, even though she knew for a fact that he wasn’t going to. She wouldn’t have bothered with blankets if she thought there was a chance of it. Still, she thought she’d ask.

“I don’t even think I can get myself home right now,” he admitted with a shrug.

She snickered and rested her head on his shoulder. “What’s your dad going to say?”

He grinned and put his hands up by his ears to mimic Batman’s costume: “‘How could you be so irresponsible as to let your brother get drunk?! You couldn’t even come home! Don’t you know your own limits?!’”

She blinked.

He coughed into his hand awkwardly. “Not that I’d know, of course. This is my first time doing this.”

“Riiiiight.”

Red Robin was silent for a little bit, then he laughed. “Did you really memorize your crush’s entire schedule?”

She blushed. “I was a dumb kid in ‘love’! Leave me alone!” Then she remembered something. “Wait a minute! You did it too!”

He snickered and rested his head on top of hers. “Yeah, but mine wasn’t a crush, really. I was just a paranoid, nosy little crap as a kid.”

She grinned. “I believe it.”

He huffed and rested his arm around her. “Rude.”

“Mmm,” she said vaguely. She closed her eyes. “Good night.”

“Good night, Marinette.”

~~~

Two updates in a day because I am a benevolent god and not at all because I’m procrastinating studying for my economics test tomorrow

~

“Is [Jason] really not going to tell the rest of the bats her identity?”

Yep. It’s a secret. Both for plot reasons (it’s more fun if they all find out individually) and for personal reasons I’ve given the characters (i.e. Jason not wanting to give Dick the satisfaction of being right)

~

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood

#maribat #satisfied #timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake

[moldisgoodforyou]

james and julia

this is for u james anon :) also let’s hope the tags work this time lmao 

___

“What’s up with the boys lately?” Julia asked Sophie after a stall in their conversation over ice cream. The six of them hung out occasionally, mainly when they went out, and Sophie loved the way they all fit together so seamlessly. She easily fit in with the boys and Rafe could hold his own hanging with the girls (probably thanks to his sisters), so it was no surprise that all of them together was always a fun time.

“Hmm. Nothing special, really...oh, James is getting back to dating. I did a complete overhaul of his Tinder the other day.” Sophie told her.

“Back to dating?” Julia cocked her head.

“Yeah, and his girlfriend broke up after three years a few months ago. Something about her not being able to handle long distance anymore, I don’t know. He took it pretty hard. Obviously.”

“Poor guy.” She commented, sitting back in her seat, thinking.

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and my idiot boyfriend suggested he needed to get over her by getting laid.”

Julia snorted. “Lovely.”

“Right? Anyways, James went on a date after like a month and I’m pretty sure he came home and was miserable for a straight week, so I’m glad he’s kind of moving on. I don’t think the guys ever really liked her, but you know how stubborn people can be about high school relationships.”

______

After that conversation, Julia swiped through her Tinder that night, more purposeful than ever. It didn’t take long for James�� profile to pop up, and they two matched right away. She sent him a teasing message - funny seeing you here - then immediately cringed at her choice of words. James replied with an equally teasing tone, and the two texted for a while that night - and two nights following.

The group all went out that weekend and there was an awkward tension between Julia and James, but Sophie couldn’t quite place why. Instead of being the class clowns of the group like normal, they were both unusually quiet, not really contributing to conversations. When Sophie leaned over to Rafe, whispering her observation, he furrowed his brow, not having noticed a single thing.

“I’m gonna go get another drink, anyone want something?” Julia asked at the end of the night, raising her empty cup. “Yeah, I’ll come with you.” James stepped up, following her through the crowd to the bar. After they both ordered their drinks, standing shoulder-to-shoulder so they could fit in the tightly packed space, he broke the silence first. “So.”

“So.” Julia echoed, raising her eyebrows.

“Can I take you out?”

“That’s awfully forward of you.” She commented, smirking.

“Sorry, out of practice.” He offered a cheeky grin back. “Dinner tomorrow night? At that Mexican place on ninth, I’ll pick you up.”

“Sophie’s gonna kill me.”

“That’s not an answer.” James nudged her arm with his elbow playfully, sliding cash across the bar to pay for both their drinks. “And Rafe will probably kill me too, but hey, at least we’ll go down together.”

Julia hid her smile in her cup as she took a quick gulp, more for confidence than anything. “Or we could get out of here now. It’d probably take them a while to notice...”  

“Now who’s being forward?” He smirked, then glanced over to where their friends were, blissfully unaware. “We’ll have to -”

“Go out the front, I know. Yours or mine?” She grinned, taking another long drink and willing herself not to shudder at the cheap vodka.

“Mine, I’m closer.” He knocked back the rest of his beer, then offered his hand. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” Julia nodded, accepting his hand. “I still want that date though.”

He laughed as he leaned closer, making her shiver as his lips brushed against her ear. “You got it.”

Meanwhile, Rafe and Sophie were starting to get suspicious. “What do you think they’re so held up for?” She asked, pulling out her phone to text both of them separately. Rafe shrugged. “Friday night, we know it’s always packed here.”

“Ahh.” Sophie nodded in recognition, showing the group her phone with individual texts from each of them with a half-assed reply about meeting someone. Allie grinned. “You think it was that guy on Tinder she keeps texting?”

“Maybe. Wait, is this the first time -?”

“Hell yeah it is.” Rafe grinned, high-fiving Colin and Sophie rolled her eyes. “Well, good for him, I guess. Hope it’s a nice girl.”

_____

The next night, both Julia and James were getting ready for their date at their respective houses. Julia had refused to spill any details, claiming ‘a lady doesn’t kiss and tell’ when Sophie begged for the story. Colin and Rafe had snagged a few cupcakes and spare gel icing from the house chef, eloquently writing Congarts on the Sex - misspelling and all - as a present for James. He had laughed and snapped a photo, but didn’t tell much, just that it was a fun night and she left right after.

“Skirt or the jeans?” Julia held up both options with her turtleneck sweater, glancing in her closet for shoe choices.

“Depends on what sweater you’re going to wear.” Sophie stood and started rifling through her closet, shaking her head as she pushed multiple hangers over.

“What do you mean! This sweater is fine!”  

“Yeah, for church, not a date with someone who’s already seen you naked!” She retorted, pulling out a v-neck sweater instead and a sleek leather skirt. “You want this, with the white boots. Trust me.”

“You’re the worst.” Julia grumbled, but took the clothes and changed anyways. “Should I curl my hair?”

“Hm...no. Not worth the effort. Are you planning on hooking up with this mystery man again tonight, do I have to go to Rafe’s?” Sophie handed her a lipstick to match the outfit.

“Um - uh, probably not -” Julia stuttered, racking her brain for a solution. “You know, when was the last time you two went out?”

“We went out last night.” She raised her eyebrows. “Are you nervous?”

“Going out with all of us doesn’t count. I meant on a date.” Julia took a breath, pleased with her distraction, and smoothed the color over her lips.

“Um...” Sophie trailed off, thinking. “A couple weeks, I guess, I’ve been busy. Where are you going, Rafe and I will go and stake out the date for you.” She grinned. “We’ll be subtle, I promise.”

“You and Rafe have like half an ounce of subtlety between you two, combined.” Julia snorted. “Make him take you to that new restaurant, the one that was in the student paper.”

Sophie thought it over for a moment, her smile faltering. “It’s kind of expensive.”

“Your ability to forget your boyfriend is rich is impressive.”

“Jules.”

“I’m serious! Plus he gets so excited when he can take you out, it’s kind of adorable.” She pressed. “It’s not like you’re doing anything else tonight.”

“Yeah, he kind of does.” Sophie agreed - Rafe loved spoiling her as often as possible, even though she was still getting used to it. “Can I at least get his name?”

Julia had prepared for this question, at least. “It’s Jack, and no, you don’t know him.”

“Ugh, a J name.” Sophie shuddered jokingly, shooting a text to Rafe.

“Yeah, his only downfall.” Julia laughed, albeit a little forced as she thought of the main reason the two of them were probably doomed.

___

Meanwhile, Rafe was hyping James up for his date, blasting rap music way too loud as he ironed his clothes for him. (“Because no one fucking appreciates a well-pressed pant around here,” Rafe had argued, snatching James’ wrinkled clothes out of his hands.) “You kind of did things backward with all this.”

James shrugged. “Guess so. It was her idea.”

“The date or hooking up?”

James grinned as he accepted his freshly ironed shirt from Rafe. “Hooking up.”

“You should be careful though, you know? I mean, you shouldn’t launch into all this so quickly, take it easy.” Rafe told him a little warily, just wanting the best for his friend.

“I know, I know, it’s casual.” James reassured him.

“So...are you gonna need the room? It’s kind of early for dinner.”

“Uh...I mean, I’m not sure...”

Rafe’s face lit up as he received a text from Sophie and he eagerly shot back a reply. “Never mind, looks like I have a date night tonight too. Where are you taking this girl? If you’re going to that new place, I’ll see you there.”

“No, just the Mexican restaurant on ninth. Not pulling out all the stops.” James laughed, shaking his head at Rafe’s sudden mood switch. “Sophie’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

“I...yeah, probably.” He decided against a rebuttal. “But she’s finally letting me take her out on a nice date, for the first time in ages, so I’ll take it.”

“Didn’t you go to the art museum downtown a couple weeks ago?” James asked, grateful for the conversation topic changing.

“Yeah, and it turned out she had to go for one of her classes and do a few sketches. I swear she can’t go three seconds without being productive.” Rafe shook his head, though he smiled fondly as he talked about her.

“Fucking simp.”

“C’mon, you’re the romantic, you know it’s love.” Rafe grinned and James rolled his eyes as he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. “I’m leaving, have fun.”

“You too! Text me if I have to go to Soph’s!” Rafe called after him.

_____

After Rafe and Sophie’s dinner, Rafe insisted on taking her to a swankier bar downtown by the restaurant instead of their normal college spot. When she paused, calculating in her head and reaching for her phone to check her budget app to see if she could swing expensive cocktails, he grabbed her purse and slung it over his shoulder. “On me, angel.”

“Everything has been on you lately.” She protested, holding her hand out expectantly for her purse.

“Good, so it’s how it should be.” Rafe shot her a grin and took her hand as they walked down the street. “You should have brought the navy purse instead, the black kind of clashes with my outfit.”

Sophie snorted, giving in. “Didn’t think you’d be wearing my accessories tonight, my bad.”

“Ah, but you should never assume.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, glancing in the window as they walked to the door - and did a double-take, spotting James. “Hold on, is that -”

She turned and followed his gaze, seeing Julia opposite James at a dimly-lit back table through the bar. “Holy shit.”

“Do you still want to go in?”

“Yes, we’re going to go interrogate -” She tugged on his hand, pulling him into the bar as Rafe leaned back. “Soph, maybe we shouldn’t -” He hissed, but she ignored him, walking right past the hostess’s stand.

“Ma’am, all our tables are reserved -” The hostess called toward Sophie, but Sophie turned on her heel and shot her a sweet smile. “That’s alright, we’re meeting friends.” She tugged her hand out of Rafe’s and strode over purposefully as he followed quickly behind. Once she made it to their table, she just stopped short of slamming her hands on it, both the drinks rattling a little.

James glanced up with nothing but fear in his eyes. “Oh, Sophie, nice to see you here -”

“What the hell is going on here?” She demanded, shooting glares at both James and Julia. James slunk back a little in his seat, while Julia just winced.

“Actually, yeah, I’d like to know too.” Rafe chimed in, sliding into the booth next to James as Sophie did the same.

“I told you they’re both off limits, James.” Sophie pointed an accusing finger at him. “Did you somehow forget my one rule? Literally just one?”  

“To be fair, you don’t speak for me -” Julia started, only for Sophie to whirl on her. “You! You were being so sneaky when you normally spill every detail - I should not know how big every single dude you’ve hooked up with is -”  

“Wait, you two hooked up? Julia’s the mystery girl?” Rafe made the connection a moment too late, then threw his hands up in exasperation. “Dude!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” James apologized quickly. “But if we’re pointing fingers, it was her idea -”  

“James!” Julia sighed, shaking her head. “Oh my god, I knew this wouldn’t work.”

“You said we could keep it a secret!”

“Not from fucking Sherlock over here!” Julia snapped, jamming her thumb toward Sophie.

“Was it worth it?” Rafe interrupted the argument, stepping on Sophie’s toe gently to hopefully put out some of the flames in her eyes. She only kicked him in the shin in response.

Both James and Julia shared a glance, debating their answers. “Honestly?” She asked.

“Yes, honestly.” Rafe nodded, sending a warning look to Sophie to keep her quiet.

James hesitated, not wanting to hurt Julia’s feelings. “I mean, I think you’re really nice -”

“Yeah, and the sex wasn’t bad -”

“Oh my god, please don’t even start there.” Sophie mumbled, her face twisting at the thought of her friends together like that.

“And I think you’re pretty -” James started again.

“But there’s nothing there.” Julia finished for him, offering him a quick smile. “I think we’re perfectly fine as friends, but that’s it.”

James nodded in agreement, relieved she felt the same. “Yeah, exactly. No hard feelings.”

Sophie let out a slow exhale. “Alright. I mean. You’re sure? Because if there’s really something, I can, like, chill out. Probably.”

Rafe smirked. “I’d say your entrance here contradicts that.”

Julia laughed, breaking the tension. “I’m sure. We were just talking about his ex before you interrupted, so I don’t think anything’s going to happen.”

Rafe shoved James’ arm, shaking his head. “That’s the one topic I told you to avoid.”

“We actually were having a decent conversation, if you two don’t mind? The least I can do is get you another drink, Julia.” James laughed, pushing him back aimlessly.

“...Fine.” Sophie stood, shaking her head. “Just as friends, though.”

“Just as friends.” Julia promised, sending her a grateful smile.

As Rafe and Sophie left, he let out a loud laugh as soon as they exited the bar. “Jesus Christ, Sophie. James looked like he was about to piss himself, he was so scared.”

“Good! She’s off limits! I warned him!” She exclaimed.

“I know, it’s like incest.” Rafe shuddered and slung his arm around her shoulders, walking with her to find another bar. “But hey - you think Allie and Colin might be a good match?”

“Rafe Cameron.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 

#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #college rafe #frat rafe #rafe x sophie #mine

[shera-dnd]

It’s here! The ultimate crossover poly ship we’ve all been waiting for!

But wait, there is more! This is a buy one get two deal, so there is a bonus crossover poly ship added there for free!

Also if you’d like your fic ideas to be written by me or just want to help me keep the lights on, consider donating to my ko-fi (rules over here)

alright with that out of the way. It’s time to enjoy some gay shit

“Sato, tell me again why we’re doing this,” Catra asked with a loud groan, shielding her face as best as she could.

It was a beautiful and sunny summer day at the park, and that meant Catra and Asami were suffering like the sad goths they were as they were dragged along by the ever cheerful Korra and Adora.

“Because we love them dearly,” Asami huffed, exhausted from the heat, “and we can’t just keep them inside all summer.”

“Ugh, are we going on a picnic with our girlfriends here, or walking our dogs?” Catra complained.

As if on cue Adora and Korra turned to look at them, energetically waving at them as they finally found a nice place to set up. Their smiles were so bright that Catra was happy she had put on sunscreen earlier.

“Both,” Asami said, adjusting her sunglasses.

Slowly they walked up to the over excited duo. Thankfully the two of them managed to find a nice patch of shade they could set up under, and not have to melt under the sun like a couple of angsty popsicles.

“Blanket?” Adora asked, promptly taking the leading and organizing position she was born for.

“Check!” Catra replied, getting a cheap picnic blanket from her bag.

“Water?”

“Check,” Korra answered, taking several bottles of water from her backpack.

“Sandwiches?”

“Check,” Asami said, before adding, “I made them.”

“And sodas?”

Korra shoved her arm back into her backpack and began yanking all the soda cans out with far too much enthusiasm. The three of them stopped and glared, getting her to stop before she could slam the cans down...again. As hilarious as it would have been to watch Korra accidentally spray herself again, they actually wanted to drink their sodas this time.

Adora gave them all a satisfied nod, before proudly declaring, “and with that, our picnic date is ready to start!”

“Wow, so romantic, Adora,” Catra rolled her eyes, “nothing makes a girl feel more special than a bunch of checklists.”

“Well I appreciate it when a girl comes prepared,” Asami countered, giving Adora a kiss on the cheek for support.

“Of course you do, Sato,” Catra shook her head and rolled her eyes.

The two of them stuck their tongues at each other for a bit, in what their girlfriends could only assume was their more...unique approach to flirting.

Deciding now was a good time to change the topic away from those two dorks, Korra approached the trio with her arms behind her back.

“Hey, Adora,” she called, earning a glare from Catra, who had nearly patented that line, “you sure we aren’t missing something?”

Adora checked her list a second time, even rereading the things she brought there herself, “I don’t think so?”

Korra smiled as she brought her hands forward, revealing the football she had been hiding behind her. Adora’s hands flew to her mouth to contain a gasp, and looked up at Korra as if she had just whipped out a wedding ring. Catra and Asami were extremely unimpressed.

They barely got to finish setting up before those two darted off to go run around and throw that ball like the pair of adorable goofballs they were.

“Looks like it’s just the two of us again, Applesauce,” Asami commented, sitting comfortably in the shade.

“Yup,” Catra nodded, sitting next to her. She allowed a long pause to pass by before adding, “wanna makeout?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Asami replied, scooting closer and hooking her arms around Catra’s neck.

Catra leaned in, lips slightly parting as they came closer to Asami’s… before being so rudely interrupted by Korra clearing her throat. The two edgy idiots looked up at her, seeing her and Adora standing over them with crossed arms.

“Don’t we do this every day at school?” Korra asked, brow raised in annoyance.

“Yeah,” Catra replied, refusing to move away from Asami, “your point?”

“This is a date,” Adora added, hitting them with her most powerful puppy dog eyes, “can’t you guys please play with us for a bit?”

Both of them groaned and looked at each other. Asami looked ready to give in at the slightest hint of that adorable face, but Catra had years of experience with saying no to it.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that,” Catra answered.

“Oh well,” Adora sighed, “you asked for it.”

They were barely given a moment to process what that meant, before Korra and Adora hoisted them up, and tossed them over their shoulders like sacks of potatoes. Asami yelped loudly, but accepted her fate. Catra, on the other hand, kicked and screamed the entire way, nearly punching Adora in the face more than once.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” She shouted, “put me down, or I fucking swear!”

Adora simply laughed as she carried her girlfriend along to the nice open space where they were playing just a moment ago.

“Only if you promise to play with us,” she replied.

“Fine!” Catra yelled, “just put me down!”

Adora gently put her down and shot her a beaming smile. Oh she was lucky she was so cute, or Catra would have kicked her ass right now. Instead she just adjusted her clothes, fixed her hair so it would be the correct kind of messy, and huffed.

“So what exactly are you making us play?”

“We don’t need to play an actual game,” Korra answered, “we just wanted to have fun with you guys.”

Catra seemed unconvinced. They should have known she wouldn’t participate if she couldn’t make a competition out of it.

“Okay, how about this,” Adora offered, “we split into teams of two, and we try to just toss the ball between team members without letting the other two catch it. Whoever keeps the ball with their team the longest wins. Sounds fun for you?”

Catra pondered for a moment, seeming satisfied with these terms of engagement she declared, “I’m on team Korra!”

“What!?” Adora exclaimed, her expression one of utter and absolute betrayal, “why?”

“She’s the tallest one here,” Catra explained, casually, “it’s an obvious tactical advantage.”

“By an inch!” Adora countered, still stunned that Catra would ever abandon her like this...again.

“Don’t worry, Adora,” Asami said, putting a hand on her shoulder for reassurance, “we’ll make sure she regrets that”.

Oh no. Korra and Adora looked at each other as they both realized that they may have made a terrible mistake.

What followed was easily the most intense game of keepaway any of them had ever played. Though intensity was just about the only thing Catra and Asami were providing for this match up. Not that the other two minded much - they were genuinely just happy to play with their girlfriends for once - but they were starting to worry one of them was gonna end up doing something stupid.

It wasn’t long until they were proven right. Catra caught a ball meant for Adora and instead of throwing it to Korra, she decided the best strategy was to just run for it. The three of them watched stunned as she bolted off into the park like she was being chased by the hounds of hell. Asami gave chase soon after, so the assumption wasn’t all wrong.

Korra and Adora just stood there, watching as their girlfriends ran after each other, shouting insults at one another.

“We should have known that was gonna happen,” Adora commented with a defeated sigh.

“Well, at least we got them to exercise for once,” Korra offered.

“Yeah,” she nodded, watching those two for just a bit longer before adding, “wanna make out?”

“Sure,” Korra shrugged, “not like they’re gonna be back any time soon.”

~~~

Korra leaned back and closed her eyes, allowing herself to enjoy the cool breeze that blew past their little spot. She took a nice, long sip of her soda and let out a satisfied sigh. Yeah, this picnic was just what she needed.

“Water,” groaned the mostly dead girl to her side.

Catra laid there, sprawled face down on the picnic blanket, barely able to do anything but groan, and complain after completely draining herself like that. She couldn’t help but laugh a little, playing with her girlfriend’s hair before handing her the much needed cold water.

The poor girl groaned something sounding almost similar to a thank you, before chugging the whole bottle down in record time and then flopping back to her sprawled position.

“So what did we learn?” Adora asked, with that particular tone she had at times that made Korra wonder if she ever considered becoming a teacher one day.

“Never to exercise again,” Catra answered.

“No,” she corrected, “don’t over exert yourself

“Also don’t wear all black to a picnic,” Korra added, “I’m surprised you two didn’t cook alive.”

“We did,” Asami replied.

“And that’s why we brought all this water,” Adora said proudly as she handed Asami her own water bottle.

“What would we do without you?” Asami praised.

“We wouldn’t have gone out in this fucking heat that’s for sure,” Catra complained.

“Can you do something other than complain?” Asami asked.

“No,” she replied without a second of hesitation, “also scoot over, you’re hogging all the shade.”

“Sorry, Applesauce, but I won. I hold all the shade privileges now,” she proudly declared, earning a weak little kick from a completely burned out Catra.

“Don’t be like that,” Adora sighed and crawled closer to her girlfriend. She ran her fingers through Catra’s hair, scratching her in this very particular way that only Adora knew how to do, and soon it was like angry asshole Catra had never been there, now replaced with just soft asshole Catra.

“Asami is right,” Catra said, sounding so content with everything, “what would we do without you?”

“Oh, are we showing her some love now?” Korra asked, scooting closer and hugging Adora from behind, “mind if I join in? ‘Cause I got plenty.”

Following her example the other two joined in the PDA, Asami leaning against her shoulder, and Catra resting her head on her lap. Adora looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“Y-You guys,” she whined, trying not to crumble into an emotional mess, “I love you so much.”

“We love you too,” Korra answered, kissing her cheek. The others hummed in agreement.

“This means a lot,” she replied, sniffing loudly, “but you’re all really sweaty and it’s way, way too hot for PDA right now.”

Korra and Asami muttered some agreements and promptly moved away, fanning themselves a little to help cool down. Catra, on the other hand, refused to move and in fact even pressed a little closer.

“Are you gonna move?” Adora asked, amused.

“Nope,” Catra replied, “you’re too comfortable.”

Not wanting to disturb this rare moment of peace, Adora accepted her fate, and returned to her duty as Catra’s primary source of scratches.

After that initial burst of energy the rest of the day was surprisingly peaceful. Well, besides a small argument over who had the worst taste in music, and who should or shouldn’t be allowed to have the aux cord. But other than that it was a calm and peaceful day.

Slowly but surely, the shade grew a bit longer and the day grew a bit colder. Night was about to fall, and it was time to move to part two of their wonderful summer date. Milkshakes at the diner. Korra’s kinda sorta aunt Kya ran the place with her wives, so she let Korra and all her friends - and girlfriends - hangout for as long as they wanted.

The four of them greeted Kya before taking their usual table. Catra did not waste a single second trying to sit like a normal person, she promptly tossed her legs over Adora’s lap, and leaned back against the wall, phone already in hand.

“Hey, look at that,” she commented, “Blight dyed her hair purple.”

“Maybe she decided green hair was too straight for her,” Korra joked, “I’m surprised she didn’t go with blue.”

“Well, I think purple works really well for her,” Adora commented, “I mean, all her clothes are already black and purple.”

“All of your clothes are white or red, but I don’t see you dying your hair,” Catra commented, archiving the mental image of redhead Adora for later.

Adora opened her mouth to argue, but was interrupted by Asami, “babe, your hair is wonderful, don’t let her bully you into doing something stupid with it.”

Catra looked ready to throw her phone, “hey, I aint bullying anyone!”

“I see you kids are as cheerful as ever,” Castaspella greeted as she reached them, putting their food on the table, “here are your milkshakes, and the fries are on the house.”

“We really don’t mind paying for it, aunt Casta,” Korra assured her.

“Nonsense, let us spoil you kids a little,” Casta replied, with a wave, “besides, consider this a little thank you for helping our niece get a date.”

“Wait!” Catra interrupted, very confused for a moment, “Amity is your niece?”

“No, silly, I meant Luz,” she chuckled, “she was so in love with that Blight girl that she wouldn’t stop talking to Lilith about how amazing she was. It was adorable.”

Adora blinked a couple of times as she realized that meant that Luz and Glimmer were technically related now. She then vowed to herself to neverr let them find out, their power and chaos combined would be far too much for the world.

“Uh, glad we could help I guess?” Korra offered with a weak smile, completely unaware of the small crisis going on in Adora’s head. Aunt Casta laughed a little at the awkwardness, before leaving to tend to the other tables.

And now that they were left alone it was time to dig in. As usual Adora practically inhaled her food, and had to be stopped by Catra before she choked on something. Also as usual they were all dipping their fries in their milkshakes, with the sole exception of Asami.

“I still don’t know how you guys manage to eat that,” she commented.

Adora loudly swallowed a whole portion of milkshake covered fries in one go - earning an exasperated sigh from Catra - and answered, “it’s good!”

“Is it though?”

“What? Is this unsuitable for your refined palate, princess?” Catra teased.

“It’s…weird,” she replied.

“Hey, I’m weird, and you still love me,” Korra commented, leaning a little closer to her.

“You know what I meant,” she complained even as she leaned back against Korra.

“Don’t you wanna at least give it a try?” Korra asked, offering one of her own fries, “for me?”

That was a cheap trick, and Korra knew it, but it worked. Asami leaned in and took a bite of those fries without even taking them from Korra’s hand. There was a certain romance to eating food from your lover’s hands, or at least there would be if her two other lovers weren’t being little shits and snickering the entire time.

Asami glared at the two of them as she slowly ate her fries, trying to properly savor them, to fully grasp their flavor profile. Adora did a little heart with her hands and blew her a kiss in an attempt to mitigate her annoyance.

It worked better than she would like to admit.

“So how is it?” Korra asked.

Asami swallowed and paused, seeming to ponder her answer for a moment. “It was...better than I expected.”

Korra laughed and shot her a beaming smile, “told you it was good.”

Asami couldn’t respond for a moment as she was too busy being reminded that Korra was a blessing to humanity, and that she was so lucky to be able to call her her girlfriend.

“Well uh...thanks for making me try it,” she mumbled. Trying her best to save herself before Catra and Adora - especially Catra - could make any comments on her loss of composure, Asami dipped one of her fries on her milkshake and offered it to Korra, “here.”

Korra eagerly and happily took a bite off of it.

“That’s so fucking gay,” Catra commented.

“Catra, we’ve all been dating for months,” Adora countered.

“Yeah, your point?” She asked, sticking her tongue out at her.

“You’re the worst, you know that?” Asami replied.

“Complain all you want, princess. You all love me, and you know it.”

The table collectively groaned - Asami burying her head in her hand - all fully aware that she was completely right.

~~~

Eventually the conversation died down. It was late and they had spent all day with each other, but they all knew they’d have to part ways eventually. They all knew they’d probably see each other tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and every day for as long as they could. But that didn’t mean they enjoyed bringing the date to a close.

Adora especially seemed extra clingy today as she gave all three of her girlfriends tight, rib-crushing hugs. The others were far more subtle about it, but it was still there. In the lingering touches after a hug, the yearning looks after a kiss. It was that unspoken want to stay just a little longer, to never let go.

Maybe one day they’d all walk together to their own home, and cuddle together in their own bed, but today they all had different places to return to and they had to go their separate ways. In the end only Korra was left standing in front of the diner.

“Hey, kid,” aunt Kya called, “you want a ride back to your parent’s place?”

“You really don’t--”

“What did Casta say about letting us spoil you?” She interrupted. There was no arguing with her.

Next thing Korra knew she was in Kya’s car, watching the lamp posts pass by them as she took her home.

“You should bring them over more often,” Kya commented.

“I’ll try,” Korra replied.

“I’m serious,” she insisted, “you know we all love when you bring the girls over. It reminds us of the good old days.”

“The good old days?” Korra asked, somewhat amused.

“Back when we were your age,” she explained, “back then it wasn’t exactly okay for a girl to want to be with another girl, let alone two. But even then we knew we wanted nothing more than to be together, just the three of us, for as long as life would let us.”

Korra thought back to that idea of sharing a place with them, living every day with them, making days like this the norm. It all sounded so wonderful.

“Yeah,” she replied, “I think I get it.”

#spop #shera #avatar the legend of korra #atlok #the owl house #toh #catra #adora #catradora #korra #asami sato #korrasami #adora x asami x catra x korra #crossover #castaspella x lilith x kya #modern au #high school au #fanfic

[random-mha-thoughts]

Bad Boy (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Angst to fluff, and a lil spice ;), No quirk!AU

Summary: You finally get to see your childhood friend Shouto after years of being separated only to find out he’s completely changed.

BGM: “Younger” by Ruel

Word count: 2,781

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

a/n: God this photo fucked me up good when I first saw it.

I saw this picture on my search for images for my last Todo post aaaaand yeah, pretty self explanatory. I got to thinking, what if this poor baby finally snapped one day and was like "FUCK ENDEAVOR AND HIS ENTIRE PROGRAM, IM NOBODY'S MASTERPIECE" and he went the complete opposite direction. So enjoy a little bit of OOC Todoroki and a bit of a longer post than my usual stuff!

I’m really really sorry about not updating in the past few days.  I was really swamped by college work and studying, and I was mentally exhausted and physically tired every day.  Today wasn’t my day and I almost had a breakdown because a lot of things piled up in me, but I had to pull myself together somehow.  Hopefully, after this week, I’ll go back to a somewhat regular posting schedule.  Thanks for being patient with me guys, I really appreciate it :)

When my mom told me Shouto will be going to the same high school as me, I was expecting the same buttoned-up, shy, good boy from elementary school.  Oh boy, was I wrong.

The boy I bump into in the hallway definitely looks like Shouto, but the only thing that's the same is his mismatched hair and eyes.  Everything else about him was much different.  His entire energy was different, even from the fraction of a second I focused on his face.

"Shouto?" I call when he's about to brush past me.

I don't think he's expecting someone to know him on the first day, pausing and looking down curiously.

The most shocking feature of all is the scar on his left side, a red blotch that covers the left side of his face, starkly contrasting his brilliant turquoise eye; a single ray of light in a scarlet sky.

As I'm gaping at the puckered skin, his eyebrows furrowing at my face as recognition slowly dawns on him.  "(Y/n)?"

I'm relieved that he at least remembers me.  "Yeah, hey."  I don't really know what to do now.  My first instinct is to hug him, but something tells me he isn't a fan of that sort of thing anymore.  There's a coldness between us that's thick as a knife.  "How have you been?"

"Fine," he answers curtly.  His hands are stuffed into his pockets, leaning back in a way that seems uncharacteristic of him and more like a ruffian.

Does his not want to talk to me?  I don't blame him, I haven't been in his life for a good eight years.  "How are your parents?"

His jaw clenches.  "Fine."

Oh.  I struck a nerve.  "Do you wanna catch up at lunch?  What class are you in?"

"1-A."  Overjoyed that we share the same class, I'm about to open my mouth, but he interjects, "But I don't think we should talk."  That was the last thing he said before he strolls past me.

I'm stunned, following his receding back through the sea of students.  I guess I shouldn't have brought up his parents when I know it's a sensitive topic, but I didn't know what else to say.  And it's probably awkward to see someone you used to be close to talk to you again, but the least he could've been is polite.  That's saying something, because Shouto was always the polite child.

Something is terribly wrong here.

Shouto has definitely changed since we were younger.  He's become a delinquent.

He never even shows up to class.  After our little encounter, he was slumped in his seat until the teacher finished role call, then he just got up and walked out in the middle of class and never came back.  In all the days after that, his seat remained empty even at the beginning of the day.

At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt.  What if he happened to get sick and had to stay home?  Then I saw his signature mismatched tuft of hair walking back home in the school yard, and I knew he was skipping.

After a whole two weeks passed of him skipping, I had enough.  The Shouto I know would never cut class even if his life depended on it.  During lunch, I went looking for him in the group of other delinquent kids in the back of the school.

"Todoroki?" the ash-blond ringleader ruffles his hair and scoffs, "Idiot must be off somewhere by himself like the damn loner he is.  He picked a fight with me and I almost beat his ass into oblivion!"

I ball my fists up, more angry at Shouto than the group of boys eyeing me like a pack of wolves.  "You guys are useless," I mumble, about to turn away from them.

"Aww, is he your boyfriend, sweetie?" the honey blond with a black streak in his hair smoothly wraps an arm around me.  "He probably doesn't care about you, you deserve someone else who'll give you his time."

"Fuck off, who said you can touch me?"  I shove his arm away and step back.

"Calm down there," the red head with sharp teeth taunts with a smirk, "You're getting a bit defensive.  You sure you don't need help looking for your little prince?"

"I'm fine on my own, thanks," I huff, turning around to go look for Shouto elsewhere.

"Maybe I'll come with you," the overly-friendly boy blocks my way again.  "If he's not your boyfriend, maybe we can get together sometime?"

"Not interested.  Out of my way, Pikachu reject."  I try to side-step him, but the leader grabs the back of my collar and whips me around so I'm face to face with his bared teeth.

"You're a bit rude, aren't you?  Should I pull your head out your ass for you?"  His crimson eyes glare his murderous intent into me.

I hold my ground, the anger against my irresponsible friend more powerful than any fear of this hothead possibly hurting me.  "Don't act so tough if your talk is cheap."

He cracks his knuckles without breaking eye contact with me.  "I'll show you cheap talk.  Try waking up next week after I'm done with you!" he snarls.

I mirror his expression.  I don't mind throwing hands at this guy if I have to, blood rushing through me to prepare for the fist fight.  "I dare you-!"

"Enough, (Y/n)."

I can feel his presence right behind me even though he doesn't physically touch me.

Scarlet eyes shift behind me.  "Took you long enough, hot shot.  Your friend has just as much spunk as you, I'll kick both your asses!"

"I'd like to see you try, Bakugou," Shouto responds coldly.  "We both know who'd win."  Keeping his gaze locked on the aggressive male, he harshly grabs my arm and hauls me away.  "Let's go."

I'm fuming with anger when we're back inside the building.  I turn on him when he finally releases me, but he's already starting down the hall.  "Don't walk away from me!  We need to talk!"  I stomp over, following him to an abandoned classroom.  "What the hell is wrong with you?!  First of all, you were a real ass when I talked to you last week.  Second of all, you're not even coming to class like you should.  And now you're already picking fights with that idiot out there?  What's gotten into you Shouto?!"

"You were about to get into a fight as well.  You should thank me," he comments coldly, slipping into a desk with books open on top.

"I could've handled it just fine without you!  The only reason I was even there talking to them was because I was looking for you!"  I hover over him, glaring down so he can tell how angry I am.  "You'e skipped class all week, this isn't like you at all!  How are you supposed to catch-?"

One glance down the the open books shows all the material we've been going over in class.  He's already caught up to today's lesson, writing notes in his book and ignoring my presence.  The entire setup makes me angrier.  "I don't understand you, Shouto.  What kind of act are you trying to pull?  You're not a delinquent, why are you trying to act like one for everyone else?   Or is this all because you're just trying to ignore me?"

His pencil stops moving and it slams down onto the desk.  "A lot happened since you left, (Y/n)," the boy responds.  His quivering voice indicates restriction of intense emotion.

The hurt is apparent across his entire face, calming me down.  My gaze lingers on the left side of his features, over the eye that somehow looks perpetually sad.  "How did you get that scar, Shouto?"

The boy's eyebrows furrow.  "My father never let up on me after you left, and he got worse.  My mother couldn't handle fighting him on her own anymore.  One day, she snapped, told me how unsightly my left side was, and pouring boiling water over my face."  His large hand gingerly covers his reddened skin.  "And my bastard father put her in a mental institution after that.  He did this."

My heart aches for my childhood friend, the boy I took care of and listened to all his problems.  I can't imagine how much pain Rei was going through.  For her to have lost it, she must've held such a heavy burden.  When I had to move away, I felt so guilty about leaving him with all his troubles.  He had no one else to reach out to and it was snatched from him.  There wasn't a day I stopped thinking and worrying over him.  I reach to take his hand and offer comfort.  "Shou-"

Shouto bolts up from his seat, his taller figure hunching over mine, features screwed up in distaste.  "You weren't there when I needed you most."

I'm taken back, hurt more than anything.  "It's not my fault, we were so much younger, I didn't have a choice but to go with my parents."

A dark chuckle erupts from his lips, dismissing my excuses.  "It's fine.  It happened, I've learned to deal with it."

I'm about to blow my top with this kid.  "Yeah, you've dealt really well, haven't you?" I roll my eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

My mouth gapes, letting out a sputtered scoff.  "You're kidding.  Just look at you!  You're pretending to be someone you're not!  You and I both know you were never the bad boy type when we were kids.  You're the slightly awkward, naturally smart, driven, hardworking-"

"I was only those things because my father forced them on me," he passes by me, crossing his arms.  "I don't want to be anything that bastard wants anymore.  And if you can't see that, then we were never friends in the first place."

That's a stab in the chest.  How can he say that we were never friends when we used to do everything together?  A surge of fury rushing through me, I grab his arm to keep him from moving any farther.  "You love watching superhero cartoons, your favorite was All Might.  Sometimes, you're so damn lazy that instead of doing homework when you came home, you would sneak in a nap before your dad came home to see you slacking off.  Your favorite food in the entire world is cold soba.  You don't like extremely sweet desserts.  You've always been insecure about how strange your mismatched hair and eyes look, but I always had to assure you that you're still the most handsome guy in our class."

Shouto halfway turns around to look at me.

"If we weren't friends, why do I know so much about you?"  I take another bold step towards him, softening at the underlying pain etched into his features.  "I know you always hated the way your dad expects so much from you.  The only thing you ever wanted in your childhood was to be normal.  The pressure finally crumbled down on you and your mom, and I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you through it.  But you shouldn't abandon everything that you are.  You took after your mom more than your dad; you're sometimes a sassy son of a bitch, but you're kind and have a deep respect for people you admire.  You have a natural sense of humor that you don't even know you have.  You care about the people you're close to, you only struggle with communicating how you feel sometimes."

His lips part slightly, processing everything I just showered onto him.  Guilt eventually creeps up on him, choosing to rub the back of his neck.  "You...always did know just what to say."

I smirk and engulf him into my long-awaited hug.  "Who else would put you back in your place?"

His arms hesitantly wrap around my body, the act of sharing body warmth strange yet familiar to him.  It's a small victory, but I'm relieved that we're back on speaking terms.  I'm ready to resume protecting him as I should.

Shouto shifts in our embrace.  "You said...I struggle with telling people how I feel...?" he mumbles sheepishly near my ear.

My boy perks with confusion.  "Yeah, even when we first-"

"Would it suffice if..."

Before I can turn to search his face for what he could be implying, his grip around me loosens as he pulls back to look at me, one of his warm hands resting against my cheek.  His face looms right in front of me, my breath catching in surprise, before he presses his lips to mine softly.  The weightlessness in my stomach is unmistakable.

As quick and unexpected as it came, it also left, Shouto's half lidded gaze resting on me from a small distance away.  All I can do is stare off dazed, still trying to process what just happened.

He leans back against the nearest desk in the front row.  "I guess I should've asked first."  I can see his cheeks and his ears turn almost as flushed as the color of his hair despite his hand covering half his face to hide it.  "But it was the only way I can think to get my point across without stumbling over words."

My heart still flutters trying to recover back to normal, my knees shaking as I lean against the teacher's desk for stability.  I resist the urge to touch my lips like a shocked schoolgirl, but I'm still trying to process the whole thing.  "You know," I cough, "We did already kiss when we were like...five, so this wasn't really our first.  But I don't usually count that-"

The intense color fades from his face almost at once, a darkness creeping into his gaze.  "Then," he pins me back into the desk, hands on both sides of the wood to trap me, "I shouldn't have any qualms about doing it again."

Contrasting from his strong setup, his next kiss is still shy and hesitant.  After exchanging a couple more tentative lip-caresses that still make my head spin, he's gotten his feet wet enough to go harder, establishing a rhythm between us.  As his kisses intensify, his hands reach up to cup both sides of my nape, fingers tangling in my hair desperately and tilting my head up for a better angle.  My own hands grasp the collar of his uniform, pulling him closer into the heat of the moment.

His body pushes me practically into sitting on top of the desk, moving one of his knees between my legs as he lets ones of his hands roam down to grip my waist.  The sudden tug elicits a minute gasp, allowing Shouto to nip at my bottom lip before tugging my head back to trail soft kisses down my jaw.  My fingers thread through his soft locks, letting him massage my neck with his mouth.

"W-Where did you learn all this?" I breathe out unsteadily, my breath refusing to return.

He straightens up and captures my lips in another slow kiss.  "You'll never know."  Another one.  "I've admittedly imagined this for a while."  The next kiss is much deeper, a hum vibrating from his chest as his fingers dig into my side again.  "You're special, so dear."  His mumbles between kisses become more incoherent as his kisses become messy.

"Shouto."  I finally manage to push him away for me to breathe and calm my dizzy head.  Both of us are panting.  His half-lidded eyes and flushed face tempt me, but the fear of someone walking by suddenly alerts in my mind.  "Someone might see us.  Besides, isn't there something you need to say?"

His brow lifts.  "I'm...sorry for being rude to you last week."

"That was needed, too," I chuckle, "But there's something else."

Confusion crosses his features.  "Have I done something else wrong?"

My hands slide down to grip his hands.  "Don't you need to ask me to date you officially?"

The tint of rose on his cheeks intensifies a shade.  "I thought it was clear already..."

Another chuckle bubbles from my lips and I lean up to kiss his warm cheek.  "I'll let it pass because I want to date you too."  His face begins to light up in joy, but I push off from the desk and tow him out of the room.  "But you have to start coming to class again."

Shouto catches up to keep pace with me and presses a kiss to my forehead.  "Done."

"And you need to see a therapist, Mr. Bad Boy."

He breaks out into a smile at that nickname.  "I'll think about it."

#todoroki x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki shouto #shouto todoroki #no quirks au #todoroki angst #angst to fluff #gender neutral reader #todoroki imagine #todoroki scenario #mha todoroki #bnha todoroki #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

[chibivesicle]

Golden Kamuy: chapters 255 & 256 - chaos at the brewery, superior private vs superior private, the death of the first Tsurumisexual

I was hesitant to write a stand alone 255 summary and I am glad that I waited until 256 was out.  I also had a busier than expected work week which kept me busy.  The fire that Jack set at the brewery was large enough that the local fire department is alerted to fight it.

The next few pages show how late Meiji era firefighters worked with a horsedrawn steam pumper.

The chief calls for a bugle player to call in the rest of the firefighters and they start spraying while the main pump starts.

This the allows us to see where some of the cast are.  As usual Shiraishi is near the fire fighters, he always has a tendency to know where the person in charge is, Ushiyama, Hijikata and then we see Boutarou is somewhere outside.

My most hated convict is there watching that everyone has assembled to find Jack.   He then has a fixation with the ladder.

I have no patience for Ueji, I really hope he’s not around much longer.

The action shifts to Asirpa still beating our convict until her sutu physically breaks.  I have to admit this concerns me since it shows that Asirpa may not have just been acting in self-defense/’basic’ punishment.  It indicates that she’s bolder or losing control of her own actions towards him.

Jack reaches out to grab her fur cloak and he holds here there as he reveals his ‘tragic’ backstory.  He was supposed to be the child of a prostitute and a member of the British Royal family.  Wow - riveting . . . . honestly, I found his backstory to be lame and I was like ‘on with it already.’  Still doesn’t really explain why a man would become a murderer . . . .

Asirpa then becomes more desperate and she threatens to stab him with one of her arrows if he doesn’t release her, while he insists he’s the product of a virgin birth. Since he was taken in nuns and raised in some sort of catholic setting . . .

What is important is that once she looks into his face after threatening she finally shows signs of PTSD from shooting Ogata.

Here face is sweaty and flushed and her pupils are tiny and she remembers Ogata collapsing on the ice floe.  I have been waiting so long for this to happen.  Asirpa is good at burying and denying her feelings and finally in a pinch her fears come to the surface.

Honestly, I am so relieved to have this happen in the story.

Sugimoto then arrives and tells Asirpa that killing Jack is his job.  He looks dangerous as his scarf flies back and he’s got the bayonet on his rifle.

Asirpa meanwhile is in the foreground arrow in her hand.  There are then several pages of Sugimoto stabbing and disemboweling and stabbing our convict before he kicks him out a window.

With luck, he falls out near Ushiyama who finishes him off with a skull smashing step.  I’ve never been a huge fan of Ushiyama, but I do like his line about how prostitutes are divine beings to him, remaining on earth to help others.

This seemed a lot more fitting than Sugimoto telling him what you do with your life is important.  I’m also curious how damaged his tattoo is after being slashed open across the belly. 

Now it is unclear if Sugimoto and Asirpa will be reuniting with Hijikata or not, since the skin has been delivered to Ushiyama.  I’m curious to see if they rejoin his group of if they break off again.

The action finally returns to the events that I am most interested in; the fight between Ogata and Usami.  The english translation has Usami calling Ogata by his first name as he beats the crap out of him while he tries to hold him off with the rifle.  Usami is upset since previously Ogata called him a ‘cheap piece’ on a chessboard and he did not like it.

We get a close up of Ogata’s bloody nose as the rifle moves. The next page makes it clear that Usami has grabbed the rifle and he proceeds to empty the remaining bullets and even kicks them away on the floor.

Usami is making sure that Ogata has no chance to fire at him and knows that if Ogata tried to fight back with the rifle alone, he’d have no chance.  Of course, Ogata goes to grab another clip, but Usami judo rolls him onto the floor and Ogata turns over and begins to crawl back to the rifle.

It seems like Ogata has some sort of thought in the first panel as Usami stands over him and tells him that he’s essentially useless without a gun.  I’m under the indication that when it comes to fighting and combat that Usami finds him useless since both of them have done things non-combat related.

Usami then boldly pulls the bayonet off of Ogata’s belt.  Usami then falls into the trope of overconfident monologue individual.

Ogata doesn’t give a damn about Usami’s monologue to him, he’s got to beat him and we get a close up of Ogata picking up an individual bullet between his bloody lips.  He’s got something in mind.

Usami then insults Ogata as being a son of a prostitute he can’t call Usami a cheap piece.  We know that Usami was raised in a normal but poor samurai family with both parents and siblings.  He feels that since he comes from a more reputable (though poor) background he has more legitimacy than Ogata which we know is the common perception of Ogata in the 27th.  We will need to know who told everyone he was Hanazawa’s illegitimate son to know how long the bullying went on for.

Usami then has self-reflective moment about how badly he’d wanted to say this to Ogata for at least a year by this point.  This has given Usami a pause to his advance and Ogata uses his tongue to push the single bullet into the open rifle. He still looks back at Usami and knows he can do this since he’s not paying close attention to Ogata crawling across the floor.

As Usami prepares the bayonet, Ogata flips the now loaded rifle towards him and Usami seems surprised.

The final page of the chapter shows what a point blank rifle shot does to Usami.  He’s been shot at close range and there is a massive blood splatter behind him, bayonet still in hand.  The chapter ends with Ogata calmly looking over his shoulder and smoke floats away from the barrel.

What a way to end the chapter!  I had been waiting for something like this for sooo long.  Usami fell in to the trap of ‘oh look at me, I’m going to let my emotions allow me to monologue’ . . . Ogata used the fact that he’s bad at close combat to crawl across the floor to the rifle.  Usami thought it was good enough to empty the rifle but he completely underestimated the tenacity of Ogata and his plan to reload his rifle in the most horny way possible. 

If Usami and Ogata are indeed pieces on a chessboard for Tsurumi, this has shown that Ogata is a much more valuable piece.  Or perhaps are all of them of equal value and Ogata just said that to rile up Usami?

Something that really stood out for me was how Usami’s approach to stab Ogata with a bayonet was very similar to chapter 5 when Sugimoto was over him about to stab him and Asirpa stops him.  Ogata then has the pause to poke Sugimoto in the face facilitating his escape.  In that instance, it was the combination of Asirpa and then Ogata that allowed for him to escape. 

With Usami, the only person in charge of Ogata’s escape is Ogata.  It this telling us that Ogata has leveled up?  He’s now taking ownership for saving himself?  No one else came to his aid, he did it all on his own a change for him since when they were in Edogai’s house, Sugimoto had to save him from the random guy from the 27th. . . . Just something to ponder.

Either way lets get to 256 where the action continues!

The chapter stards with Usami falling back as Ogata on autopilot ejects the spent shell to ready the rifle to be loaded and fired.

Usami tumbles down the stairs and Ogata pulls out another clip to load the rifle. As wounded as Usami is, he moves quickly enough to get out of visual range of Ogata.  He holds on the the railing of the stairs as he bleeds out his back and realizes his spat with Ogata isn’t important.

He needs to tell something to Tsurumi.  Is it what he saw on Kadokura?

Meanwhile Ueji is messing around with the firefighters.  He’s pulled on some of the hoses and begins to climb up the ladder as people wonder what he’s trying to do and Usami exits at ground level.

Usami finds the horses for the fire engine around the same time that Sugimoto kicks Jack out the window.  This inadvertently catches Ogata’s attention.  Ogata then looks out the window to spot Usami on one of the horses below.

Usami is pretty rough, holding onto his chest where Ogata shot him.  Ogata takes his time to set up his shot, breaking the glass and resting his rifle on a crossbar in the frame.  Ogata then tells Usami that if he’s that worried about being a cheap piece .  . . he needs to know what Tsurumi’s face looks like at his funeral.

Ogata has made it clear that Usami is not making it to Tsurumi alive.  His goal is to stop him. 

I think that Ogata is drawing on his own personal experience and observations of Tsurumi.  He knows that his mother was a ‘cheap piece’ to his father since he never came to her funeral.  He also got to see Hanazawa’s dying facial expression which let him know what little he thought of him as the son he ignored.  Ogata also knows Tsurumi well enough that he’ll reveal how he feels about Usami in death, so really if Tsurumi cares about him, he’ll get what he wanted.  Ogata likely has mixed feelings on this; his own experience is that no one cares about others in death, and he likely wants Tsurumi to be cold and calculating not giving Usami what he wants. 

To snipe Usami, Ogata levels up, Usami is able to round the corner of the building, but thanks to Sugimoto kicking Jack out a window it is now open.

Sugimoto then is walking away from the open window and another window faces towards Usami.  Noda ramps up the tension of Ogata aiming at the open window where Sugimoto is. . . . but just as Sugimoto moves out of the line of fire Ogata takes aim and fires.

We get a unique bullet view of his shot!  Oh no? Has Ogata decided to snipe Sugimoto instead?  Pfffttt!  Of course not.  Ogata is the type of sniper who gets his mark.  His shot enters Usami’s back and exits his chest likely near his heart.

This tells us several things.  Ogata really doesn’t give a damn about Sugimoto.  He could have shot him, but really why?  There is no point, his target was Usami.  He’s off to rely information to Tsurumi. 

I also wonder if Sugimoto even heard the shot after he walked away from the windows?  There was no indication as such in 255.  All of these events highlight that Ogata’s goals have nothing directly to do with Sugimoto and his flawed reasoning that Ogata is out to get him really needs a reality check.

Back to the action, Usami falls off the horse and is dramatically caught in Tsurumi’s arms.  Usami looks at Tsurumi while Ogata thanks him.

He then removes his bandage to reveal a glass eye and he declares that he is now completed as a sniper.  This refers back to when he was retraining how to to use a rifle with Hijikata.  He stated he would only be a sniper, if he actually killed a person not more ducks.

For comedic effects, his glass eye pops out and he catches it.  It looks like Ogata now has historical overlap with the French Canadian sniper Leo Major.

The chapter returns to Usami dying before Tsurumi.  He hands over he copy of a skin that he got from Kadokura.  He then begins to speak about Kadokura, while Tsurumi looks down at him softly telling him he’s done well.

Usami reaches to touch Tsurumi’s face.  There is then a very uncomfortable scene where Tsurumi sucks on his pinky finger before he bites it off.  He tells Usami that this will allow them to live on together.  He tells him that he’ll be living inside him as his number one friend.

So, unlike saving Olga and Fina’s finger bones he took from Russia, he’ll just digest and absorb Usami instead. . . .

Usami than smiles as he dies, telling Usami that he’s so happy that he’s going to come from the feeling as he starts to call him by his first name before he dies in Tsurumi’s arms.  The next panel shows Tsurumi holding him in his arms.

As a nerd with a minor in art history, I immediately noticed that this was a reference to Michelangelo’s famous sculpture of Jesus laying in the arms of the Virgin Mary, the pieta. 

First, based on how Usami’s death impacts Tsurumi, he can rest assured that he wasn’t a cheap piece.  Second, Tsurumi has stood in for the Virgin Mary again in the context of scenes.  I’m honestly curious where Noda is going with this Tsurumi = Virgin Mary bit.

The chapter then ends with Ueji standing on the smokestack of the brewery looking for everyone’s attention.  I guess he wants everyone to try to attack him at once?  Or is he going to jump to his death and result in the destruction of his tattoo making things impossible?

Overall impressions for the events of these two chapters.

1.) Jack was a lame convict.  He did not interest me and his only importance was to get Asirpa to recognize her PTSD when she really tried to threaten him.

2.) Noda tried to tease the readers with Sugimoto-Ogata conflict but it shows that Ogata doesn’t look at Sugimoto the same way he looks at Ogata.   Sugimoto thinks Ogata is messing around, an agent of chaos, but this is anything but that fact.  It also shows again that Sugimoto thinks he’s more critical in the gold hunt than he is.  Asirpa is key, he’s just going along for the ride and Hijikata has tried to eliminate him, as has Ogata, Tanigaki and Tsurumi.

3.) Asirpa is showing finally that she was impacted by when she shot Ogata.  About time, then again, Asirpa and Ogata are very similar characters with strong internal compasses and repress their feelings.

4.) Ogata has returned to wild-type.  The past few chapters he has been on fire.  He out smarted Vasily, and was able to defeat Usami.  Many of us wondered if his sniping days were over - he has proven otherwise, but him sniping Usami was both defensive and a highly tactical decision.  It seems that Ogata has gained a new will to live, he fought his way out of very difficult situations and did everything alone (and with the help of his Yuusaku subconsciousness).  It appears that Tsurumi’s statement of not wanting to have him fighting against you holds up and his own name that he is a single man but equal to one hundred.  Ogata also shows even if he may have emotions and feelings about how others treat/perceive him, he doesn’t like it cloud his judgement or actions.

5.) Usami got the death he wanted.  I’m a little annoyed that Usami got the death he dreamed of, he gained praise from Tsurumi and was told how much he cared about him.  Usami died happy in his arms.  Perhaps, this indicates a sort of guilt/responsibility that Tsurumi felt towards young Tokishige back in Niigata?  If he didn’t have Usami judo fight his friend, maybe he wouldn’t have snapped and become a perfect and loyal solider.

That’s all I have for now.

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy meta #ogata hyakunosuke #asirpa #sugimoto saichi #ushiyama tatsuma #tsurumi tokushirou #Usami Tokishige #hijikata toshizo #boutarou the pirate

[emperorsfoot]

abandoned Star Wars fic #1

This was an AU I started a while back (2014) based off the pre-Disney Buyout version of the Expanded universe. It’s basically just “what if Luke did join the Empire like he was discussing with Owen and Beru back in A New Hope?”

My original plan was for the fic to be a trilogy, following the same main events of the original trilogy. I abandoned it because I got discouraged (for the same reason I always get discouraged when writing fic for a fandom that’s been around since the dawn of time), because the Star Wars fandom is so big and there are so many amazingly talented writers in it that this AU has probably already been written, and probably written better than I could ever write it. 

So, I never even posted it. 

Until now... 

(Oh! Also, it was gonna be a Luke/Mara ship. All my Star Wars fics are Luke/Mara.)

...

[ImpPilot]

Chapter One:

"I'd like three quarters of my pay to go to this account, please. If I can do that." Luke asked. 

Even heading strait to the Fleet's financial office immediately after his graduation ceremony instead of going out to celebrate with his bunkmates, it still took an absurd two and a half hours before he could see an actual officer -nothing more than a glorified accountant, really. 

"You'll meed to fill out form 6-23-A." Without even looking up from his personal terminal, the financial officer passed Luke a data pad with the blank form already open on it. "You're not the first boy wanting to send money home to his silver-haired mommy. Be sure all the routing numbers are correct and specify whether or not its a savings or checking account, or if its a business account. For business accounts you'll need to fill out an additional form."

"Uh… I think its a domestic checking account…" Luke said. More thinking out loud than actually speaking to the officer. The moisture farm was, technically, a business, but he didn’t think Tattooine was sophisticated enough for business accounts. At least, not reputable ones. 

"There's a terminal in the lobby you can use if you need to call home and ask. Regular holo-net fees apply -which this office will not compensate you for." Once again, the financial officer did not look up from his desk. 

Right. As if Uncle Owen would even answer. Neither he nor Aunt Beru had answered any of his calls since he left home and signed up with the Fleet. 

But they just didn't understand. Luke couldn't spend his life in the day to day routine of moisture farming, watching the rest of the Galaxy turn around him. He wanted to get out and get away. See the world beyond the backwater dust-ball of his childhood and explore brave new worlds in his adulthood. But the Lars hadn't have much money and it wasn't like Luke's late parents (of which very little was spoken of) had seen fit to leave either him or his guardians any money or property of value, there were little avenues or opportunities open to him to get off world. In fact, there were only two possible ways for a poor desert brat like him to get off world. 

Join up with a pirate or smugglers crew. Or sign up with the Imperial Space Navy. 

So, Luke chose the lesser to two evils. 

He signed up for the navy.

At least it was legal. 

He went out early the morning of his sixteenth birthday after his mind was made up. Sneaking out of the farm house and into the garage, Luke intended to take the speeder into Anchorhead. Owen was waiting for him in the garage. Intent to stop him. Apparently, his sneaking wasn't too stealthy. 

He gave a speech about the stupidity of what he was about to do. That it was foolish and he was just fixing to get himself killed. That he was just like his father -he was a damn fool too!- and that he would just end up hurting everyone else who cared about him. Luke ignored everything his uncle had to say though. His mind was made up and there was nothing Uncle Owen could do to stop him. 

Aunt Beru was a bit gentler with him, but still just as disapproving. She met him outside the garage, as he was trying to maneuver the speeder around the complex. She brought him a sandwich lovingly wrapped, as if he were just going out to do maintenance on the vaporators. She asked Luke not to think poorly of his Uncle, he was just trying to protect him. There was a war on and the reason why the Fleet was so eager to lock new recruits into contracts was because they needed more and more bodied every day. That's all he would be to the Navy, just another body to throw into the war. 

That time Luke did pause. He placed his hand over hers, resting on the side of the speeder. He assured her that this was something he had to do and that he wouldn't die the death of a nameless soldier. He couldn't explain how or why, but he could feel it. This was something he had to do, and he would not become just another body counted in the war. He would be something. 

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, because a shadow of fear crossed her face. But it was there and gone in the space of a second. She turned her hand, resting under his and grabbed his wrist, stronger than he thought she was capable of. "Don't… don't use the name Skywalker." She said suddenly. "Its a common name out here on the Rim, but it's a dangerous name to have closer to the Empire. Don't enlist under Skywalker. Use our name. Use Lars."

Luke blinked at her. "Why?"

But she didn't answer and he was in to much of a hurry to wait and pester her. 

That was the last he ever heard from either of them. Neither his aunt or uncle either called him or returned any of his calls during his time at the Academy. There was no reason to assume they would answer the comm for him now. In fact, Luke wasn't even sure if they would take his money now that he would actually be earning some. But they had raised him. And the farm wasn't easy or cheap to maintain. Maybe with the extra money, his uncle could hire a few more hands to help them out. 

Luke just filled out the form the best that he could and handed it back to financial officer. 

"Alright, Lars, your request should be processed in another eight to ten standard days. Everything should be in order by the time for first earning statement is payed." He said looking over the datapad. "Oh, and you forgot to fill out your pilot designation."

"Oh. Right, sorry. Its DS-42-6."

The officer began typing as Luke spoke, filling in the missing information on mental auto-pilot. "D… S… -Wait? DS? Death Star? They assigned a green kid like you to the Death Star!?" He gaped up at the kid, actually looking at him for the first time. 

"Top pilot in my graduating class." Luke said, not at all ashamed of the pride that seeped into his voice. Being the top flight student was a significant achievement and not even Uncle Owen could deny that. "I guess they wanna deploy their best people on the most important postings."

"What was that number again?"

"Squad forty-two, pilot number six." He answered. 

"Well, Luke Lars, I imagine you going far.

…

Most of Luke's bunkmates went out to celebrate their graduation almost immediately after the ceremonies. That meant that they all had a few hours head start on him and would probably be to faded to be good company when he did arrive. But that still didn't stop Luke from stopping in at the tapcaf they agreed on for their after grad party. 

As to be expected, of the twelve men Luke had shared a barracks with for the past two years, only three of them remained when he walked through the door. One of them was just paying his tab, a woman Luke had never seen before under one arm.

"I'm telling ya, baby, I ship out tonight." He was saying to her. "Oh, hey Lars, ya made it! A bit late. Maybe you can scoop Vard and Ika up off the floor."

He left. 

Vard and Ika were leaning over a table against the back wall. With a sigh, Luke crossed the tapcaff to assess them. Of the twelve bunkmates that Luke actually got along with, Ika was probably the closest one he would come to calling a 'best friend'. They weren't nearly as close as Luke had been with Biggs, but then, Biggs had to go off and desert on his first tour and place Luke in an uncomfortable situation with ISB right at the start of his second year at the Academy. Some great friend he turned out to be. 

But Luke wasn't gonna think about that now. This was the eve of his graduation from the Imperial Naval Academy. This was a happy day. Even if he was about to spend it taking care of his two drunk bunkmates that -in all likelihood- he would never see again. With a conscious effort, Luke pushed Biggs from his mind. 

Ika seemed to be past out on the table. A disposable coaster his only cushion against the hard plasteel and vinyl of the tabletop. Vard was at least sitting mostly vertical, but by the looks of it no less drunk. He used one hand to prop his face up while the other shot into the air in an unnecessarily showy greeting. He flailed spastically. "Hey! Look who made it!"

"A bit late, I think." Luke said as he slid into the booth next to Ika. 

"Nah. I's cool. We'll just get a new bottle." He flagged down a serving droid. "Another round for me and my buddies. And make the late arrivals a double -to make up for lost time."

"Belay that." He said to the droid. Luke just shook his head. He was in no mood to get drunk tonight. The fact that he was to report for transport and deployment absurdly in the morning or risk missing the boat aside, he just had a feeling it was in his best interest not to get completely sloshed. "We'll have a round of caff instead. And make their's a double." 

Vard scoff. "Ya know, Lars, for a guy who never had a daddy growing up, you act an awful lot like my father." With no small amount of effort, he pushed himself to his feet and jerkily maneuvered out of the booth. "Forget this. I'm going to finish cleaning out my bunk."

Staggering mildly, he made his way to the door, where he flagged down a transport. Well, at least he would be safe taxieing back to base.

Luke turned to look at Ika. He should probably call a transport for him too. 

Standing, Luke crossed to the public holo-net, passing a very pretty red-head on his way and he lamented the fact that he had to take care of his drunkard friend. She probably wouldn't want to stay and chat with someone who associated with rowdy or irresponsible soldiers like them. Suppressing a sigh, he dialed the public transport company's number that had been very boldly posted over the terminal's key-pad and ordered a taxi to take Ika (and probably him too) back to base. 

It didn't take long for the transport to arrive and when it did, Luke helped the driver carry his passed-out friend into the back seat. But Luke didn't feel much like going along. He had come to this tapcaff expecting a party -it was the eve of his graduation, after all- he felt he was entitled to at least some form of celebration. Luke payed the transport driver and went back into the tapcaff.

It was only after he sat back down at their table that the serving droid appeared with their three cups of caff. 

Luke's face fell into the palm of his hand.

The pretty red-head by the holo-net terminal gave an amused laugh. 

Luke looked back at her and their eyes met over the empty tapcaff. Her eyes were brilliant, and deep, and very very green. The bottom dropped out of his stomach as he felt a wonderful and glittering feeling of exhilaration at the fact that a pretty girl was looking at him with a smile. That glittering feeling was quickly scrubbed away, however, when Luke remembered that he had no idea how to talk to girls. 

Back home, he'd hung out with Fixer's girlfriend. But that was always in a group setting and besides, she was already in a relationship with someone. There were a few female cadets at the Academy. But you didn't talk to them like girls unless you wanted to get punched in the dick. Luke really didn't wanna get punched in the dick by the pretty red-head.

Perhaps he hesitated a little to long after their eyes met because the red-head picked up her own drink and crossed the room to sit at his booth. "You gonna drink all those, Cadet?"

Oh, crap. The pretty girl was talking to him. What should he say? Should he make a joke? Or play it strait? Did girls like funny men, or strait forward men? Well, whatever he said, he better say something soon. Luke suddenly realized that his silence was stretching on into awkward territory. "Uh, uh… I, uh… Its 'Pilot'."

"What?" She blinked at him with those deep, sparkling, emerald green eyes. 

"I'm not a Cadet anymore." I explained quickly, his ears coloring self-consciously. "I graduated today. Now I'm a Pilot."

"Oh. I see. A pilot." She gave one of those smiles people give when they're humoring a small child and Luke suddenly felt like he had already messed up with this girl. The flushing of his ears spread to his cheeks. She must have noticed the blush (then again, how could she not?), because she took pity on him. "You're not very good at this, are you?"

Luke blinked. "Uh, not good at what?"

"Flirting." She said as if this should have been obvious. "Chatting up women. Attempting to entice them to leave with you. Shore leave doesn't last forever and you can't afford to waste time. I assume you're shipping out tomorrow?"

"Y-yes." He nodded. 

"So you've got, what, maybe seven hours before you have to report to your transport."

"Well, yes, actually." Luke had to pause. She knew an awful lot about military logistics. But then again, this was an Academy town. The locals must be used to young soldier-boys coming and going and trying to pick up their young women in between. 

"Well, Pilot, I've got even less time than that." She informed him, running a finger over the rim of one of the untouched caff mugs. "Ya see, I just came here for a quick job and now that the jobs done, I've only got a couple hours before I have to be lifting off and flying out."

"Oh, do you work for a shipping company?" Luke asked. Work was a polite subject to discuss, right?

She just shook her head, her red hair cascading round her shoulders in elegant waves. "No, no, you're getting this all wrong." She said. "Listen, Pilot, I have to ship out soon, you have to ship out soon. You're cute. I'm hot. And we're both lonely. You can't take me back to your barracks, and I won't take you to my ship. So, I was thinking of maybe one of those pay-by-the-hour places down the street from the port. We share a couple hours together, then go our separate ways. I don't tell you my name, you don't tell me your pilot designation."

Luke just blinked at her. It… it sounded like she was trying to proposition him. The blush on his face colored to almost scarlet. Oh, the things Aunt Beru would have to say if she heard this. "I… I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I don't do that sort of thing. I, uh, I wasn't brought up that way. But… if you like, I'll treat you to dinner."

With a sigh, the woman leaned back in her seat. "I don't suppose I've got the time to hunt down a better deal. Alright, Pilot, a chase little dinner date it'll be."

Finally feeling balanced for the first time since she sat down, Luke flagged down the serving droid. "Two menus, please."

She learned forward, resting her chin in her hand. "Well, Pilot, you're the first man to ever refuse my offer. So, either you're a perfect gentleman -which thought were just creatures of pure myth- or else I'm not your type of company." 

"Oh, I know I'm not a perfect gentleman." Luke assured her. He was idealistic and given over to fantasies and delusions of grandeur. Definitely not perfect. "But my aunt did raise me to be respectful."

"Good aunt." She took a sip of one of the abandoned cups of caff. 

"So…" Luke began awkwardly. "If you don't tell me your name, and I'm not allowed to tell you my pilot designation… what are we gonna talk about?"

"Good question." She nodded, tapping her bottom lip in thought. "What made you decide to become a pilot?"

"I was a little short for a Stormtrooper." He joked. "But actually, I always wanted to be a pilot. My father was a navigator on a spice freighter and a navigator is basically a co-pilot."

...

AND THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE!

That was Mara Jade sitting with him at the tap caff, BTW. Luke wasn’t gonna see her again until after the destruction of the Death Star. 

Vader was gonna “sense a ripple in the Force” once Luke arrived on the Deathstar for his tour of duty. But he wasn’t actually going to take note of Luke specifically until Obi-Wan, Han, and... BIGGS DARKLIGHTER break onto the Deathstar to rescue Leia. 

In this AU, Biggs lives. He’s the one who makes the shot that destroys the Deathstar.

Luke and Vader are the only survivors. 

After their fighters (Vader’s TIE Advanced, and Luke’s shitty regular live-1 TIE fighter) are picked up by another Imperial ship, Vader confronts Luke face-to-mask.

Luke’s all like “I wanted to be a pilot because of my father.”

To which Vader replies “Owen Lars has never been, nor will he ever be, a pilot.” (Remember: Luke enlisted under the name “Lars”.)

Luke should be confused by Vader knowing so much about his uncle, but Luke’s also kinda dumb. So he just assumed Vader read his personnel file. He get’s all self-conscious and confesses to enlisting under a different name. Owen Lars is actually his uncle, not his father. His father’s name was Skywalker. 

Vader doesn’t visibly react, but behind his mask he’s just like, “OH SHIT!”

And that’s where the “A New Hope” volume of this AU was gonna end. 

#star wars #luke skywalker #Darth vader #luke lars #alternate universe #au #pre-disney buyout #expanded universe #eu #mara jade #fan fiction #abandoned project #renkonnairu

[wangxiangiftexchange]

Winter Solstice Gift for koikoipond

For @koikoipond <3

Read on AO3

*****

Call it Crazy, Call it Meant to Be

The morning of the second day Wei Ying met his soulmate, he rolled out of bed and made it halfway to the bus stop before realizing he’d pulled on his bunny slippers, a gag gift from Jiejie, and left his slip-ons haphazardly discarded by the couch. He’d still made it to the bus in time, though just barely, and had to call in Mianmian to take over the newbie’s shift. All in all a normal start to any day he had to open up the coffee shop.

In short, the universe had not prepared his poor heart for the man who strode into Latte Mugs Cafe at five after six, riding the crest of the crisp December air like some sort of angel in a white wool sweater. The door’s bell rang far too muted than was usual.

Wei Ying stared for what his racing heart later deemed a good five minutes before his gaze, somewhat distorted by the glass of the display he was arranging, rose to meet the man’s golden eyes. Oh, crap.

He shot to his feet, waved nonsensically at the man, shouted some rendition of “We’ll be right with you!”, and bolted through the door to the back room, whisper-yelling for Mianmian.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Wei Ying put a hand on his wildly thumping heart and paused to calm his breathing. Why is he here? When Mianmian emerged from the storage shelves (only one unit of which was used to stock non-perishables; the rest were filled to the brim with what the employees could only assume were the owner’s personal items, or else the remains of some poor, traditional tea shop, based on the sheer number of handmade tea sets), he ran up to her, putting on his best pout and swinging an arm around her shoulders. She glared at him and he carefully removed it and took a step back. Right. No touching.

“Mianmian!” he panted, eyes swimming with both remembered beauty and mortification equally, “The man- the bell- his eyes- and he just came in!” His voice was rising dangerously, and Mianmian thankfully stopped him before the taco place next door banged on the wall again, or worse, Lan Zhan, heard him.

“Wei Ying. Bi Disaster. Whichever you prefer,” her flat voice cut through his panic and grounded him, like a mother forcing her child into a life jacket against his will. Mianmian was great. “First off, my name is Grandmaster Luo, as per our agreement if I won the bet. Which I did.”

An exclamation of protest came from Wei Ying. It was ignored which was completely unfair because the bet had been who could last the longest without getting drunk, and sure, technically, Wei Ying got drunk first, but Mianmian had just been sipping the same cocktail the whole night!

“Second, who are you talking about and why does it involve me?” Mianmian had closed last night, too. Usually, she was much more pleasant than Wei Ying was in the morning, but today he’d taken one look at her and offered to work the counter. He’d rather not have to file a witness statement for a murder he’d seen committed at six in the morning, thank you very much. His memory was bad on a good day. He contemplated for a moment if Lan Zhan would be able to handle her and vice versa, but he hadn’t seen so much as a wince from him when the man was literally blackout drunk, so Wei Ying was willing to chance it. Who could get mad at such a perfect face anyway?

“Luo-jie,” he whined, “it’s Lan Zhan.”

“What, another ex?” She looked unimpressed.

“No! I haven’t dated anyone since the guitarist, you know that!” The guitarist—Wei Ying had blocked his name, which he remembered to be just as sexy as the rest of him, out of his mind—had been a mistake to begin with; a summer hope that turned out to be all riffs and no harmony.

She just looked confused, now. Well, guess she wasn’t lying when she’d said she tunes him out.

“No, no! Luo-jie, this is Lan Zhan . From the bar. Last week?” He winced at the memory.

“Oh. Your soulmate,” she said, as if this was common knowledge to the man waiting outside.

“Shh! Not so loud, what if he hears?”

The look she gave him this time was beyond tired, the sort of look his old government teacher used to give him when he derailed the discussion for the third time. Fond memories.

She appears to give up on the conversation entirely, brushing past him and moving toward the door. “Wei Ying, we’re talking about this. Later.” She pauses, and before he can embarrass her for caring about him, she says, “I saw him. A man that beautiful doesn’t deserve to be stuck with a soulmark he can’t remember. Even if it is to you.” Ah, there was that smirk he knew and loved!

Mianmian informed him when Lan Zhan left only a few minutes later. Apparently, he had asked for a lemongrass tea and nothing else. He hadn’t said a word about Wei Ying, or even The Insane Barista. Wei Ying was not upset by this, truly. All it meant was that the call he’d received the morning after their...escapades...had been honestly meant. His mind drifted back to Saturday morning as he mindlessly retook his position at the counter and finished his shift.

Wei Ying bolted up, his cheap twin bed creaking in protest as his phone blared the opening bars of Britney Spears’ Toxic—his ringtone—far too loudly. (If he let it keep ringing, it was just the first, really annoying bars, repeated over and over. He was unbearably smug about it.)

He reached over, trying to ignore his pounding head, and nearly dropped the phone before managing to accept the call. He mumbled out, “Hi this is-” before a deep, slightly groggy voice cuts him off.

“I have called to apologize for last night.” Apologize? Wait, was this- “I do not know what I said or did after drinking the alcohol-” Lan Zhan? “-but my brother informs me that you brought me home.” It must be. Though, technically, Jiang Cheng did the actual driving. He, after all, had not been drunk.

“Well, actually-” he was cut off again. Funny, Wei Ying thought sardonically, he remembered Lan Zhan being more polite than this. Even when they’d vandalized  the dumpster together, he’d insisted they leave room for future law breakers.

“I am grateful for that.” There was a pause, evidently for Lan Zhan to gather his thoughts. Wei Ying decided not to test his luck and gather his own as well. His brain typically didn’t wake up till at least nine on the weekends, but here he was—he checked his phone—at seven AM on a Saturday trying to have a conversation with a guy that refused to listen to a thing he said.

He didn’t remember much about last night, but that was normal for him. If past experiences were to be learned from, most of it would come to him later in flashes and pitfalls of regret. Still, he’d thought… He freed his left hand from where it was tangled in the sheets and—just sat there and blinked at it. Yeah, that was a fully-colored soulmark, to be sure. Which was—something he’d never had before.

Just yesterday, the twisting lines that covered his left palm and creeped though his knuckles were black and lifeless. Now, his hand looked like some sort of moving painting. The dull, monotone patterns had shifted, forming blue and white elegant clouds and delicate red lotus petals that swirled around each other as if moved by wind. He bent his fingers to trace the lines.

He hadn’t dreamed it then! He and Lan Zhan were soulmates and he was talking to his soulmate (or his soulmate was talking to him) and take that Jiang Cheng!

Lan Zhan was speaking, “-we should not contact each other again. Goodbye.”

No. No! Lan Zhan didn’t know! “Wait!” but the call had already ended.

He’d needed the whole weekend on his jiejie’s couch with ice cream and soup to feel better about the whole business. See, the thing was, he wanted to talk to Lan Zhan about it. Mianmian was right; it wasn’t fair that the man now had a soulmark and no clue who he was tied to for life—literally. Once found, soulmates lived and died together, unless a powerful enough rejection broke the bond.

Every time Wei Ying opened the contact he’d created on his phone, he found himself shying away, a knot of anxiety coiling in his stomach and threatening to boil over into panic as it bound his hands and prevented any communication with Lan Zhan. He’d studied soulmates before, had taken two elective classes on them his freshman year of college. He knew the fear of a severed bond was merely psychological, a flight reaction to rejection.

Severed bonds were permanent and caused by verbal or otherwise evident rejection of a relationship between soulmates. Physically, soulmarks kept their color but stopped swirling across the skin, an obvious sign which led to the Unmoving’s ever-shifting status in society. Emotionally, the soulmates often sank into depression. And so it was ingrained into the body that such experiences should be avoided. Wei Ying’s worry, the possibility of never seeing Lan Zhan again, the fear that his soulmate didn’t want him, pushed his body to such reactions. The whole thing made it frustratingly difficult to just talk to him.

Mianmian remembered to catch him just as he was leaving. She’d spotted him while on her way to her old mustang and had flagged him down like he was speeding in a school zone.

In typical Mianmian style, she gave him a once over, noted his stressed and slightly shaky appearance and declared, “You need to call him. I know you have his number.” Maybe she did listen, sometimes.

He sighed, a burst of warm air that puffed out before him and chilled, disappearing as surely as his prospects with Lan Zhan. “It’s not that I don’t want to.” A look. “I’m not being evasive! I really, really do want to tell him. I know he doesn’t-” a pause, and he continued quieter, “doesn’t remember me or our bond but he’s so kind, he might accept it anyway. He did seem enthusiastic when he was drunk. But…”

Mianmian’s eyes softened and her face looked completely different. “I know I don’t tell you because frankly your head is usually too large to make it through the door in the morning, but you’re not bad-looking or mean or stupid. I mean, maybe you are sometimes and you can’t expect to match your Lan Zhan for beauty, but it’s not like you don’t have a chance.” The last time he’d heard this tone from her was when he’d had a breakdown in their walk-in refrigerator. It was strangely calming, bringing to mind his sister and her gentle touches.

He smiled, chuckling softly. “It’s not that. I know I’m a catch! Though maybe a ten where Lan Zhan’s off the scale,” he joked, “But I just physically can’t confess or whatever to him. He- he almost rejected me once, though he didn’t know about the bond. And maybe it’s not fair, but I can only picture a still soulmark whenever I consider calling him.” He hated revealing that about himself, but he knew Mianmian. They went out for drinks most Fridays and she could sniff out a lie from him while drunk and flirting with a different dude. Besides, despite her thorny words and genuine annoyance with him, she did care. She’d even treated him to drinks on his birthday.

Mianmian looked at him consideringly and nodded. She understood. “You’re scheduled for most of the morning shifts now since those two students were hired. I’ll try to join you and work the counter for a while.” She turned decisively and got in her car, accepting his thanks with a nod. ”Don’t be late.”

*~*~*~*~*

During the following week, they established a routine. He and Mianmian would arrive at the coffee shop, baking and preparing together until six when they opened. Wei Ying would disappear into the back room, getting blends together and cleaning until Lan Zhan left at around 6:30. He showed up at 6:05 most days, give or take a few minutes. On one notable occasion, he had walked up (he walked! When it was literally freezing outside!) to the cafe at 5:55 and Mianmian had graciously let him in while Wei Ying made himself scarce.

Strangely, not once had Lan Zhan ordered coffee. In the coffee shop! Instead, he asked for infuriatingly healthy teas and protein bars which unfortunately did not include Wei Ying's prized creation: sweet habanero bars. Wei Ying had started to wonder why he even came. Their tea wasn't even that good! Not that Wei Ying liked tea, particularly, so he had to admit that he was perhaps not the best judge.

Still, he wondered if the punctual ringing of the bell had anything to do with the pull in his own hand, in his own mind, that wanted him to be closer to Lan Zhan. That wanted him to touch him, to talk to him, to accept him. Soulmarks, after all, did not care if one knew their soulmate or not. They were connected anyway.

One day, a week after the near-disastrous second meeting, Mianmian had to take off. She'd been applying for jobs recently, hoping to find a secretarial position with stable enough hours and pay to allow her to continue her schooling in law. A place nearby had allowed an interview and she didn't have time to take the morning shift.

So here Wei Ying was at six in the morning, working the counter as an exhausted student he wasn't letting within ten feet of the espresso machine stumbled around in the back room. He was stressed himself, but for once it seemed to work in his favor, tiring him out so completely that he'd fallen asleep while the clock was still on PM. He figured if he had to see his soulmate today, at least he wouldn't look like the zombie he normally did.

Wei Ying watched as a figure in a blue the color of his soulmark— their soulmark, as he'd learned the patterns and colors of pairs tended to be mirrors of each other—strode, sure and steady, through the door right as the grandfather clock in the corner struck 6:05.

A flicker of something passed through those golden eyes—surprise, maybe?—as he approached the counter. Just like before, Wei Ying's heart began beating wildly, echoing loudly in his ears and nearly deafening him. This time, however, he could also feel a slight tug, like a silk string had wrapped itself around his heart and was now gently pulling him closer to its other end. His soulmate.

A deep, quiet voice cut through his thoughts, and he quickly lowered the hand, his left one, that had been slowly reaching out. As he came back to awareness, he was suddenly beyond grateful for the gloves he'd decided to wear today. His mark would be a dead giveaway. "Good morning. Is there a certain tea blend you would suggest?"

For a moment, Wei Ying was taken aback, distracted by the man's voice and lost in his eyes, not completely comprehending the question. "Wh- What?" he stammered. "Oh, um, I'm more of a coffee guy myself, what do you usually get?" He spoke quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth. Was he revealing too much? Now Lan Zhan knew that Wei Ying knew he was a regular customer! Should he have just said Citrus! Tried and true ?

Lan Zhan's brow furrowed, a minuscule movement that would have been lost had Wei Ying not spent the last eternity staring at his eyes. He opened his mouth and Wei Ying decided that it was best if he focused on something else, in the interest of his own health. "I will take whichever coffee you prefer."

Wei Ying was speechless, a feat not many had achieved. Over the last week, he had used Mianmian as a spy, asking detailed questions about everything that Lan Zhan did. She was a surprisingly good sport about. The point was, Lan Zhan had always ordered tea, a different blend each day, and never anything else.

Lan Zhan turned around, unbothered by Wei Ying's confused and flustered state, and sat down at a two-person table next to the bookshelf. He pulled out a laptop from his bag and began typing away. Wei Ying squinted at the screen in disbelief, but couldn't make out the words from this angle.

He shook himself and went about preparing the mocha, opting to skip over the spice he liked to add. A memory of a truth-or-dare game in which Lan Zhan admitted disliking spicy foods provided a hazy warning. A shame, if you asked Wei Ying, but he hadn't. Wei Ying had told him anyway.

He paused before bringing the drink over to his soulmate. It just looked so sad, both the drink and Lan Zhan, sitting quietly in an empty coffee shop as the sky only just began to awaken. He still didn't think he could properly talk to the man if his performance earlier was anything to go by, but maybe he could...

He reached into the display case, wrapped his gift in a napkin, and delivered Lan Zhan's drink, a little addition tucked neatly beside it. He turned and just about ran to the counter, pulling out a rag and cleaning non-existent spills until Lan Zhan left.

When he finally heard the door close, Wei Ying straightened up from his bunker and drifted, dazed, over to clean Lan Zhan's table, finding only an empty cup. Wei Ying smiled. His heart-shaped ginger cookie hadn't been abandoned, despite the bold way it was offered. Perhaps he wouldn't be, either.

Emboldened by his success, Wei Ying called Mianmian and resumed his position at the counter, a plan formed and ready to be completed. He wasn't sure if it was caused by the civil and promising conversation yesterday or sheer eagerness, but he thought, just maybe, that he'd be able to get himself to talk to Lan Zhan. Hopefully.

*~*~*~*~*

At 6:05, Wei Ying was doubting his chances. He watched as Lan Zhan walked up to the counter, just as confidently as he had the day before, steadily getting closer. As Wei Ying had found tended to happen when one moved. His breathing quickened, the now expected response to his soulmate's presence, and he responded to the sharp tug in his chest by stepping back, just slightly. He was distinctly reminded of a prey animal trapped by a predator.

Instead of biting his head off, Lan Zhan simply stepped up to the counter and examined the fresh pastries sitting in the display case, for whatever reason ignoring the barista's slightly gaping mouth.

Wei Ying swallowed, stood up straighter than he did when he visited Madam Yu, and summoned up this morning's courage that had so suddenly abandoned his poor self.

"Welcome to Latte Mugs Cafe! What can I get you?" There, his voice barely shook!

Lan Zhan hummed—wow, that was way hotter than it should have been—and tilted his head just the slightest bit to glance at the menu on the wall. "I will have a mocha."

He'd liked it then! Wei Ying hadn't pegged Lan Zhan as a chocolate person, but he supposed he might have a secret sweet tooth. "No problem. It'll only take a few minutes. Would you like to make it a Mexican mocha?" He couldn't help but recommend it, not after he'd worked so hard to get it on the menu. He'd written an essay to the owner. Besides, he'd taken Wei Ying’s mocha suggestion and eaten his cookie. He wondered what Lan Zhan would do with something Wei Ying knew he didn’t like.

His stomach turned a little at the thought that he was getting to know more about Lan Zhan and he wondered idly if he could really blame all of this on their soul bond or if he should take responsibility for his traitorous heart. He dismissed the thought. If anything, Lan Zhan should be the one taking responsibility merely by virtue of existing. That thought twisted his insides even more. Ugh .

Lan Zhan gave a little noise that Wei Ying chose to interpret as assent before sitting back down. He stared in surprise for a minute at his turned back before carefully preparing the drink. When it was done, he once again paused before rounding the counter. Surely, Lan Zhan needed to eat something with his coffee. Who knew if he'd even eaten breakfast? He bent down, scanning the available treats, and plucked one from the shelf, placing it carefully on a napkin before bouncing over to Lan Zhan's little table by the bookshelf, trademark grin in place. Courage, don't fail me now.

"Hello, Sir! One mexican mocha right here!" All of his best (and worst) decisions had been made by following his instincts. He pulled the chair around from the other side of the table, scraping it loudly across the rough tile, and decidedly sat down, holding out his bright red offering with only a moderate heart attack. "It's a habanero bar! I made the recipe and it pairs perfectly with the Mexican mocha, trust me. Oh, and I'll pay for it, of course." Technically untrue, but he didn't think he could steal something he'd made.

Lan Zhan looked a little surprised if Wei Ying had interpreted the meaning of that blink correctly. Was he regretting his spicy choices? Still, he reached out a hand and took the treat with an appreciative nod. "Thank you, Wei Ying."

What. "Eh? How'd you know my name?" Oh please for the love of all that is beautiful, don't bring up the bar. Lan Zhan had forgotten. He had! But if he hadn't, then...

"Your name tag."

Oh. Maybe the three coffees he'd had this morning in preparation had...altered his cognitive abilities. At least, that was the story he was going with.

"Well! You have me at a disadvantage, then!” Yeah, because he’s hiding a night of crimes and a soul bond from you. “What might the name of this handsome one be?" Should he be flirting? Where was the button to turn it off?? Then again, Lan Zhan was his soulmate . If there was one person in his life he was supposed to flirt with, surely it was him.

"Lan Zhan." Were his ears red? Was he hot? Was he blushing ? The rest of his face maintained its pale composure, but his ears were gently dusted pink. Lan Zhan had been inside too long to attribute it to the biting wind outside. Wei Ying's grin widened. Not even when the man had woken up wasted had he seen him blush!

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," he rolled the well-worn name in his mouth, a teasing lilt to his voice as he tasted how his tongue completed a pleasant circle around the syllables. This time, their flavor was not regretful or drunken or stressed. Simply Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying did not leave. Instead, he just started talking about all sorts of things—his job, his siblings, Mianmian. As he fell into the familiar pattern of rambling for as long as people will listen, he found himself relaxing.

"You'd think we wouldn't be that great of friends. We're coworkers in a coffee shop! But even though she claims I'm an annoying gremlin who wouldn't know his head from a rock in a lineup, she still comes out to get drinks with me—at Marco's, a few minutes away—every Friday. Sometimes, she even brings her new boyfriends! Which is like taking your partner to meet the weird relatives. I think she might use it as some sort of test. I drink them under the table nearly every time, though, so I hope they failed." He realizes, belatedly, that he'd accidentally mentioned the bar. One of literally two subjects to avoid. He discreetly eyed Lan Zhan's face, but there was no reaction, no indication of familiarity, just two golden eyes, gazing at him with interest as his soulmate listened.

Wei Ying’s heart stuttered, dangerously close to giving out altogether.

Eventually, Lan Zhan had to leave, quick movements revealing just how late he was for music lessons—he taught children to play the guqin! For a living!—and Wei Ying smiled brightly as he watched him disappear down the street. See , he thought to himself, there was nothing to be worried about.

The plan had gone off without a hitch. Not only had he managed to talk to Lan Zhan, but he'd also been able to get several responses from him, filling up the part of his memory reserved for the man he wouldn't ever forget.

These new pearls of knowledge he kept close: Lan Zhan was a music teacher and occasional performer with a local traditional music group. He taught and played the guqin most often but had played the violin in his high school orchestra. During his studies for university, he had learned several other string instruments and the french horn. He had an older brother, Lan Huan. He liked rabbits.

During the course of the next week, he learned these things and protected them: Lan Zhan and his brother had been raised by their uncle. They were not religious, but his family was traditional. Lan Zhan had gone to a private school. He hadn't liked it. Lan Zhan's mother was dead. He spoke of his father in the past tense. Both of his parents were Unmoving, their soul bonds broken. Lan Zhan hadn’t known if they were meant for each other or not. He despised lying in all of its forms.

There were also these things which laid soft and fond in Wei Ying's heart: Lan Zhan did not, in fact, like spice. He enjoyed drinking tea and reading a book in the park when it was warm outside. He preferred mysteries. He did not mind Wei Ying's chatter. He adored his students, one of which had little natural talent but had gone to region-wide contests. He was a lover of poetry and a hobbiest composer. He said "Wei Ying" as if the world spun around his name.

Talking with Lan Zhan was an experience greater than words. Many things Lan Zhan meant, he did not say. None of the things he said were to be taken for granted. With him, silence was just as comforting a companion as the loud atmosphere Wei Ying tended to create. It settled peaceful and honest around them. They sat, drank, and ate together as if they were friends of many years and not relative acquaintances. Like there wasn’t a secret resting between them like a viper waiting for its prey.

*~*~*~*~*

A week after their first meeting, it snowed. Flakes drifted down beneath a grey sky, piling up in the cracks on the sidewalks, on the windowsills, dusting the beanie of a certain Lan Zhan that strode in slowly even as he shivered from beneath his coat. Rosy cheeks and ears adorned a normally pale, jade-like face, tousled hair falling down to frame it as he removed the beanie. Wei Ying fell in love a little more at the adorable scene.

Once he’d made Lan Zhan's spiced apple tea, Wei Ying drifted over with his own latte, a chocolate chip cookie in hand.

"Do you own a car, Lan Zhan?" Wei Ying was curious. Surely he could have simply driven here, or even gone straight to work and skipped the weather entirely.

"Mn. I have lessons all over the city and we often perform hours away from here." Then why , Wei Ying thought, would you come here when it’s below freezing outside? He did not voice the question, though, because Lan Zhan's jaw had shifted just slightly, the difference a clear declaration: his mind could not be changed about this. Fine. He’d let Lan Zhan live with his choices.

Wei Ying laughed and changed the subject, reaching out to draw patterns in the cream of Lan Zhan’s coffee with his straw . "When's your next performance?"

Lan Zhan sat for a moment, thinking. "We do not have one lined up. We've been practicing to release an album recently."

"Oh really? Why? Just earlier this week you mentioned that the group didn't have the resources for it." He really hoped they would, though. Maybe with a solo piece from Lan Zhan? He hadn't heard him play yet, a true shame.

"Mn. I found a sound artist." His voice was sure and steady as he stared at Wei Ying, who looked away and chuckled awkwardly.

"You should have told me that was all you needed! I would have done the job for free, as long as you played for me. I have a bachelor's in audio engineering, you know!" To be honest, Wei Ying was a little hurt that he'd not been considered, or else Lan Zhan had tuned him out during one of the times when he had just spewed whatever came to mind.

Before he turned around, he felt a hand on his through his left glove and he flinched at the sensitive contact on his mark. Still, he longed to grasp Lan Zhan’s hand and never let go .  "Wei Ying. It is you," he paused, and slowly removed his hand, the echoes of his fingertips burning trails on Wei Ying's skin even through the fabric. "If you choose to accept." He takes a breath, and says, quieter, "I would like it very much if you did."

Like a lightbulb turned back on, Wei Ying brightened immediately, an obvious flush of embarrassment darkening his cheeks. He leaned forward, throwing his arms around Lan Zhan in a hug both to hide his face and to just get closer. Wei Ying mumbled into his shoulder, "Of course. Of course I accept. Thank you so much!" He leaned back after a too-short moment, looking Lan Zhan in the eyes and smiling. "When do I start?"

They settled all the details. Wei Ying would be attending their 6 PM practice three days a week for a month before recording and editing the final tracks. He would, actually, be paid, though they couldn't afford the usual rates. That was fine with him. Really, he just needed to put something in the ‘Experience’ section of his resume. Well, plus his overwhelming desire to hear Lan Zhan play his guqin.

When Lan Zhan opened the door to leave, Wei Ying called out for him to stop. He stepped forward exactly one step, in a completely normal and not-at-all-nervous way. He opened his mouth, closed it, and blurted out before he could change his mind, "Doyouwannagetdinnerwithme?"

Lan Zhan gave him a flat look, but the mischievous glint in his eyes betrayed his understanding. Wei Ying took a steadying breath, fought the urge to glare, and stated loudly and clearly, "Will you go out with me later tonight?” His face felt like it was on fire. “As thanks for the job?" No one would ever guess the stone-faced man had a sense of humor, but Wei Ying was living evidence of it.

Finally, after a beat of silence during which Wei Ying mourned his stolen heart, Lan Zhan nodded once. "I will pick you up at your house at seven. Where do you live?"

The pure excitement that filled Wei Ying at Lan Zhan’s acceptance prevented any protest about how he was supposed to take Lan Zhan out and gave the man his address. As the ever-present bell marked Lan Zhan's departure, all Wei Ying could think was that he had a date. That he had a chance .

His palm tingled in anticipation as he ran to the back room to tell Mianmian the good news, filled with all the details she couldn’t get while eavesdropping.

*~*~*~*~*

Five minutes after getting in the car, Wei Ying regretted letting Lan Zhan drive. He should have risked his unused license or else simply called a cab because they were nowhere near the restaurant he had suggested, and he didn't know what to tell Lan Zhan if the man picked a nicer place. A barista was only paid so much!

Still, Lan Zhan refused to turn the car around or even explain himself when Wei Ying asked. He simply kept his eyes fixed on the road, staring at it as if it might disappear if refused Lan Zhan’s attention (Wei Ying sympathized). That determined set to his jaw was firmly in place. His eyes narrowed, and Wei Ying had the distinct impression that he was a man on a mission. Wei Ying just wished he'd been given a briefing.

Cars passed in pools of red and white that blended well into the background of a late December metropolis. Only about a week was left until Christmas and the trees were adorned with brightly glowing lights that bathed the streets in a familiar mix of artificial fluorescence and beauty.

He liked this time of year, enjoyed how his apartment complex decorated its buildings, smiled when the granny next door brought him homemade cookies and hot chocolate. He didn't even mind the cold that much, not when branching frost framed the windows and Lan Zhan's cheeks flushed red.

They were stuck in Friday night traffic for longer than he suspected Lan Zhan had planned, based on the finger softly tapping on the wheel, but eventually, Lan Zhan drove into a parking garage a good distance away from any restaurant Wei Ying knew and got out.

They walked a few blocks, glad for the several layers of clothes (Wei Ying actually had a reason to wear gloves, for once), before stopping at the entrance to one of the city's parks. A stone path twisted through the trees, a canopy of a million white stars enclosing the area and welcoming the two of them.

He grinned, turning to Lan Zhan and teasing, "I think we skipped a step. Romantic walks through the woods go after dinner."

A drawn-out, "Mn," the one that meant 'ridiculous', was the only answer he received. Instead, Lan Zhan smiled , which—wow. Illegal.—and offered Wei Ying his arm with far too much confidence. He blushed, hoped it wasn't visible in the lighting, and took it, only feeling slightly like some sort of flustered Victorian maiden.

Did Lan Zhan know what he was doing? Did he take every friend and business associate out to fairy gardens when they asked him to dinner?

Thoroughly confused but aware that Lan Zhan wasn't going to answer any pointed questions, he decided to enjoy the evening and pester him about the food instead.

"Lan Zhaaan," he whined, staring at the way the lights gave Lan Zhan's face an ethereal glow, " “When are you going to feed your poor A-Ying?"

At this, Lan Zhan put his other hand on Wei Ying's where it was nestled in the crook of his elbow in a comforting gesture and reassured, his voice calm, "We are almost there."

Wei Ying spent the rest of the walk as he was accustomed to doing around Lan Zhan—talking his ear off. He admired the lights, expressed his appreciation for Lan Zhan's outfi—a dark blue coat over Wei Ying's favorite knitted white sweater—and asked about the songs his group had chosen for their concert.

He couldn't wait to hear Lan Zhan play. He suspected music was the quieter man's true outlet for expressing his feelings, a language without the burden of words.

Lan Zhan spoke too, not as often or as loud, but he answered and asked questions of his own. Did Wei Ying play an instrument too? He had—flute in high school, though he preferred the piccolo, all the better to annoy people with. Portable, too! Why did he like alcohol? It was the experience, more than the taste, especially at a cheap place like Marco's. Was he planning on getting his Master's? He wasn't sure. He wanted to pay off some of his student loans before getting deeper in debt.

The easy conversation made Wei Ying relax, happy as always to be around Lan Zhan. It was strange to think that a week ago, he’d never met the man. He didn’t think he could live without him now.

Finally, they took a smaller, branching path, and Wei Ying gasped at its end; a white gazebo bathed in soft purple lights sat like a fairy house among gleaming trees.

He released Lan Zhan's elbow and took a step forward before looking back at his companion with an open mouth.

"You...you arranged all of this?" he asked, wonder coloring his voice.

Another "Mn," accompanied by a self-satisfied tightening of the mouth.

Wei Ying had long since given up trying to understand any of Lan Zhan's actions, but he was hopelessly endeared all the same. He grabbed his arm again, this time pulling him up the wooden steps and squealing in glee.

To one side there was a table laden with all sorts of foods, including, he was overjoyed to note, many dyed deliciously red. On the other side of the gazebo, a long, low table sat, a intricately carved, dark guqin resting atop it. A cushion, metal heater, and blanket were laid before the instrument, ready for use.

Impressed, Wei Ying went to inspect the dishes closer, his growling stomach refusing to wait any longer. He wondered at what time today Lan Zhan had time to set all of this up. Had he canceled some of his lessons?

Sitting down, he voiced his question, mouth watering at the appetizing smells.

Lan Zhan filled both of their plates, picking out for him nearly exactly what Wei Ying would have chosen, and answered, "I reserved the gazebo, but my brother set this up less than an hour ago." Wei Ying was incredibly grateful for Lan Huan. His food was still hot!

The meal passed mostly in silence. Though Lan Zhan had no problem talking over tea, he did not like to have a conversation around bites of food. For once, Wei Ying was happy not to say anything, simply appreciating the companionship and good meal.

He tried not to think too much about why Lan Zhan was doing all of this. He wasn't stupid, was in fact painfully and adoringly aware of the romantic setting, but that fear he had thought long since gone crept around his heart, daring him to hope and be crushed in its vindication. So he swallowed his words and ate his food in borrowed peace.

By the time they finished, Wei Ying's stomach was pleasantly full and he beamed at Lan Zhan, thanking him for the meal. Lan Zhan nodded and stood up, helping Wei Ying to his feet and leading him to the waiting cushion and—Wei Ying hoped—the performance.

"You really prepared!" He teased, pulling the blanket over himself.

Lan Zhan turned on the heater—the quiet, expensive kind—and hummed.

Then, he lowered himself onto his own cushion (sans blanket) and reached out to his guqin, warming up for a moment before glancing at Wei Ying, a suddenly hesitant edge to his eyes. "Are you ready?"

Wei Ying's smile softened and he nodded, fondness for the talented man before him almost unbearable. Lan Zhan returned his focus to the instrument and began to play.

It felt like the constant tug around his heart, like the many words that lay behind them and the greater part left unspoken, like 6:05 in the morning and laughter that tastes like coffee beans.

He closed his eyes and let the music fill him, heart thrumming in time with the music and creating  streams of pure feeling that branched out through his body until it reached his left palm. Wei Ying curled his hand in on itself. He wanted to memorize the sensation, its slight pain magnified and singular, but still a pull, a tug on his very soul. The feeling that encouraged him, warned him around Lan Zhan, his longing.

Wei Ying opened his eyes, simply gazing at where Lan Zhan kneeled behind his guqin, the gazebo’s lights framing his form as his graceful hands plucked at the strings, playing a song straight from his soul. He breathed in the cold air, letting it calm him and douse the burning in his veins.

As he played, Wei Ying felt his fear melt in the face of the pure emotion Lan Zhan channeled through the strings, felt his guilt harden into resolve because Lan Zhan didn’t know.

He kept silent for the moment, though. He needed to let Lan Zhan finish the piece, not only because silencing those strings now when all of Lan Zhan’s soul shaped the notes seemed cruel, but also because Wei Ying was greedy, and selfish. He wanted to keep this last, perfect memory, wanted to lock it in his heart like a golden thorn, a stolen parting gift if his words were not welcomed.

And so Lan Zhan played.

Wei Ying could not say how long it was before the song ended, could only center his mind around the swirling clouds that he knew curled across his palm, hidden like a shame when they were anything but. Finally, the last notes faded like acceptance into the cold night, and Wei Ying breathed in, and out, and longed.

“Lan Zhan.” It came out as a whisper, a ghost of a declaration. He needed a barrier between the song and his precipice of honesty. “What-” he stalled, biting back the hope, the despair. “What did you name it?”

Lan Zhan raised his gaze from where it had been fixed on the instrument, seeking out Wei Ying. He stood up in one smooth motion and crossed to where Wei Ying sat, pinned beneath golden eyes filled with something . An emotion he hadn’t seen, hadn’t categorized.

Carefully, Lan Zhan lowered himself to sit on the large cushion. He slid his gaze to Wei Ying’s left hand clenched on his knee, lifting his own and gently taking it, seeming to gauge Wei Ying’s reaction, but he only tilted his head in confusion. Why..?

Lan Zhan began pulling off his glove.

Wei Ying yanked his hand back. He couldn’t- why would he? He was going to tell him about the mark, but why did he want to know? Did he suspect he was Unmoving? Would he hate him if he knew the truth? That Wei Ying had played him for a fool, too cowardly to tell him about their bond?

At the stressed, almost wounded look in Lan Zhan’s eyes, Wei Ying made an aborted movement, reaching to comfort him. “Oh, Lan Zhan…” he breathed. He didn’t touch him, but after a moment of hesitation, offered his hand to his soulmate, palm up. Lan Zhan had merely been braver than he had, after all. The result would be the same.

Lan Zhan’s eyes softened and he carefully tugged off the glove, revealing the incriminating, promising, honest pattern. Twisting designs of blue clouds and red lotuses covered both their palms, side by side, blurred together as his throat closed and breath hitched. He made to move away, to leave Lan Zhan with the knowledge of his lie, but his wrist was gently but firmly held in place.

He sighed. Lan Zhan wanted him to say it, to confess, and suddenly the courage of a few minutes ago seemed out of his reach.

“Lan Zhan, you’re so good. Too good. Too good for me.” His breath caught. “I- I’ve known. This whole time.” He looked Lan Zhan in his clear, gentle eyes. “Lan Zhan. We’re soulmates. We have been since you got drunk at the bar.” He let out a shaky laugh, the first tear making its way down his cheek. “Well, I suppose we’ve been soulmates forever, but I found you then, and fell in love a little. You don’t remember, but you said you were happy. You went around showing random people your mark.” He was rambling again, but he couldn’t stop and nor could he leave.

He released it all, all of the caged words he should have laid at Lan Zhan’s feet a week ago. “I was so excited when you called me that morning. I thought you wanted to talk, to form a real relationship, but then you- you wouldn’t listen and it wasn’t your fault , you’d been drunk for the first time in your life, had a killer hangover I’m sure. But I- I thought if I called you, you’d just do the same thing again and leave me but then we became friends and I didn't want you to leave so I didn’t tell you and-”

“I am not.” Lan Zhan cut him off, voice quiet and pained, but firm.

“What?” he sniffled.

“I have not left you. I am not abandoning you, Wei Ying.” His eyes were pleading, filled with sincerity. He looked—so earnest and Wei Ying froze, uncertain.

“But—you hate lying.”

“I do not like hypocrites either. Wei Ying-” He looked away for the first time and Wei Ying panicked for a brief moment, what did I do wrong , before Lan Zhan spoke again, ears a deeper shade of red. “I knew too. This whole time.”

“What.” What?? Whatever Wei Ying had been expecting, it hadn’t been this.

“My brother was there at the bar. He...told me the next morning, but I did not handle the news well. I am sorry. I was simply surprised, and nervous. I did not remember you.”

Wei Ying was reeling. Lan Zhan knew and didn’t tell him but that was unfair because Wei Ying hadn’t told him either, so they’d both known, separately, and here they were, taking each other on a date and Wei Ying laughed, crazed at first, and desperate, but then an exclamation of pure joy. The atmosphere was romantic, after all.

He laughed and laughed and like a guqin string worn from loving use, the tension broke. He threw himself at his soulmate, at Lan Zhan, and hugged him until Lan Zhan hugged him back, until their eyes stung from tears and their voices grew hoarse from repeating the other’s name.

Wei Ying pulled back, cheeks flushed in the cold and eyes shining as he looked up at a soft smile. He reached out, cupping Lan Zhan’s cheek and resting their foreheads together, the contact burning, melting the longing that had become a permanent fixture  inside of him. Breaths mingled, puffing out in this warm space between them for a timeless moment.

With confidence born not from instinct or daring, but rather a heart securely held, he closed the distance between them, brushing winter-chapped lips against Lan Zhan’s soft ones, his last confession a raw whisper, returned with the same gravity it was given.

From then on, he held this warm truth in his heart: Lan Zhan loved Wei Ying, his soulmate.

Breathless and overwhelmed, he entwined their hands, bared patterns moving against each other, together. Nothing lay between them now, no confessions and no secrets. Only these: a prayer, a completed promise, and a bright future.

Extra:

“So, how did you know?” Wei Ying asked, exploring Lan Zhan’s purse.

He hummed, amused. “You told me yourself.”

“I did not! I’m pretty sure that was, like, goal number one. ‘Don’t tell Lan Zhan!’” he recited, voice playfully serious.

Lan Zhan brushed the hair out of Wei Ying’s eyes and took his left hand, fingers tracing the evidence of their bond.

“You waved.”

“But I had on gloves- oh.” He hadn’t, not yet. He only started wearing them after Lan Zhan had walked in the first day. “So you walked into some random shop and saw your soulmate who immediately disappeared.”

“Mn.” Lips brushed the top of his head.

Wei Ying laughed at himself as he went back to the purse. You could learn a lot from what a person kept in theirs! He pulled out a piece of paper, a half-composed score, handing it to Lan Zhan and looking deeper. Some chapstick (no wonder his lips were so soft!), several pens, a book on music theory, and—what was this? He grabbed it and brought it to the light. One of the cafe’s napkins, something wrapped inside. What? He peeled away the months-old paper, a breath caught in his lungs as the object was revealed.

It was the cookie, the heart-shaped ginger crisp he’d given Lan Zhan the first time he’d taken his order.

“You! What am I going to do with you!” he laughed, the sound bright and joyful as he tackled his soulmate in a hug.

“Marry me.”

“WHAT?!!”

#koikoipond #wangxiansolstice20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

[ts-unsolved]

The night we met

((i got carried away imagining this scenario, so here’s the conversation that lead to dee joining aboard the Investigation Station))

Summary: On principle, Dee tries to not let his major life choices be ruled by what happens over highly-priced drinks in crummy bars, but flying too close to the sun that was his old college rival had never been part of the equation before.  

Aka: Roman tries one last time to convince Dee to hunt ghosts with him, and he finally says yes. (Aka^2: can you believe Dee has been pining for two whole years? lmao get it together boi).

Content Warnings: Drinking, mentions of smoking, allusions to drug-dealing and generally shady/unsafe atmospheres, mild swearing, references to fights/stabbing/being killed, food descriptions/eating.

Word count: 2.4k – I am not the only traveler Who has not repaid his debt I’ve been searching for a trail to follow again Take me back to the night we met –

[February, 2015. Los Angeles, CA.]

With a languid roll of his wrist, Dee swirled the peach-colored liquid around his glass for what felt like the hundredth time since he had sat down at the round rickety table. Blame it on his keen intuition for arduous conversations, but he had not managed to settle his nerves since he and his companion had entered the dim and dusty bar, and something about the location they had found themselves in was only lending itself to his growing headache.

It wasn’t a secret that Roman’s family was loaded; Dee knew this for a fact, and yet out of all of the establishments in the city they could have gone to, the man had chosen such a lowkey place for them to meet. Perhaps in his mind the discrete look of the place was appropriate for a supposedly momentous conversation, although whatever grand idea Roman had of a ‘private business discussion’ definitely didn’t match the reality of what was going on in the shady establishment, all of which spoke of illegal activities with the subtlety of a glowing neon sign. From what he had already managed to discern from a quick glance, there were hands dealing under the tables, side-glances from couples locked in suspiciously hushed exchanges, not to mention the laundering scheme this place seemed to operate as a front for, barely even camouflaged under the displeasingly unkempt storefront with furniture that looked like it dated back to the 60′s and the pervasive smell of cigarette smoke to match.

Dee suppressed a grimace as he forced his attention away from surveying the landscape of the bar and back to the man sitting opposite him. By all means, this was the exact kind of place he would choose to hang out in if he were to catch up with some of his old high school friends, and yet being here with Roman Kingsley of all people somehow made him want to reevaluate the decisions that lead him to being in this clearly cursed timeline, because there had to have been a horribly wrong turn made somewhere.

As if sensing himself being at the center of Dee’s thoughts, Roman looked up from where he had been prodding at his unusually soggy plate of nachos (“…I was hungry, though I’m not so sure I am anymore.”), and shot Dee an unguarded twist of a smile. It was the kind of expression Roman clearly wasn’t used to wearing; which was to say that it was less of his usual brand of over-compensated arrogance and more hopeful uncertainty. Dee stared blankly back, being struck with a realization as he took in the figure that was bathed under the terrible lighting of the bar:

‘Ah. One way or another, this guy is going to be the death of me.’

Surprisingly, the thought didn’t perturb him as much as it should have. Sure, being mugged and/or stabbed in the alley out back because he had willingly accompanied this walking hotspot of disaster to one of the more dangerous parts of the city wasn’t exactly ideal, but in all honestly it didn’t feel like it would be much of a surprise for him to meet his end in such a dumb and grisly way. Of course, with his baby snake waiting for him back home he was hardly looking for trouble, and especially not at the expense of somebody he didn’t even send Christmas cards to. Even so, his gut told him that dead or alive, he wouldn’t be walking out of this bar without a semblance of trouble following him; a prospect he wasn’t sure if he found exhilarating or exhausting.

And so there the situation currently was, in an uneasy limbo. With a sigh, he pushed his nagging thoughts to the back of his mind for the moment and took a sip of his drink, finding brief refuge in the sugary film that coated his mouth and the back of his throat.

Roman tracked the glass with his eyes as it was set against the table and quirked his lips in that infuriatingly smug expression only the two of them could truly pull off. “I didn’t take you for a mocktail kind of guy. Lost your edge over the years?”

Dee simply raised an eyebrow in response. It wasn’t a surprise that Roman remembered his delinquent past, what was a surprise was how this was apparently not a determining factor in eliminating Dee as a potential co-worker given the goody-two-shoes friends the other loved to hang around. “What can I say? In my wise age, I’ve learned to value substance over a cheap high. I’d have assumed you’d have shared that viewpoint given our similar tastes for the unconventional, and yet...” He gestured to the very stereotypically masculine pint that sat in front of Roman, not untouched and yet not being attended to either. Roman scowled in response, more at the menu than at him.

“Normally I’d agree with you, but despite what you think, I don’t actually have the money to drop on overcharged garbage like some kind of idiot. I mean, look: the Merlot is $50 here, Dee. $50. For Merlot. That is borderline criminal!”

For a moment, the air in the bar stilled. Dee soon realized that Roman’s voice had gotten a tad too loud and wow he really did not want to get beaten up because this pipsqueak couldn’t figure out what the exchange of dirty money looked like even when it was staring him in the face. Time to move the subject along to something less contentious, because he really did not like the way the dead-eyed look the bartender was giving them.

“Please, you only have yourself to blame for your poor judgement calls. We’re not here to have a lovely evening out though, are we? Let’s just cut to the chase already.”

Roman simmered down with a click of his tongue, pausing to pick up a tortilla chip and eat it, only to look disappointed by the lack of crunch. Nevertheless, as asked, he dropped all pretenses of small talk. 

“You read my text, then? Have you thought your decision though any more?”

There it was, the million dollar question. While he had been acting nonchalant about the matter ever since Roman had first approached him with his offer, the truth was that he had been weighing the pros and cons of this decision for days now, to no end. Remus, that absolute bastard that he was, was probably having a real laugh at his expense right now, knowing fully well the position he had put his old pal in by pointing Roman's attention his way. Perhaps a little payback on Remus’ end was warranted for their less-than-stellar parting conversation, although Dee couldn’t help his ire at his friend (ex-friend? frenemy?) for setting him up for this infuriating no-win scenario. Years ago he, young and foolish, had hoped that Roman would have dropped his inane obsession with the paranormal by college graduation, but given his current predicament it seemed he had underestimated the tenacity of Remus’ brother. Time to test the waters of that commitment, he supposed.

“About the wacky little ghost show you’ve been raving about since the dawn of time? Can’t say you’ve really sold me on it. I am a rather busy guy, you know; I can’t just drop everything for a show pitch I’m not even convinced on.”

This was a slight twist of the truth. He had been between jobs for months, a lack of inspiration and not being able to stand his bosses and coworkers being the reason he just can’t seem to stick to one place. He had long-since given up on his dream of going into show business, so for a long time he had settled on just doing what he could to maintain a living. It wasn’t a fulfilling way to live, but he was surviving, and that was all that mattered.

Nevertheless, Roman was not thrown by the negative response and instead puffed out his chest in a show of indignation. Clearly he would not be taking no for an answer without a fair fight, which likely spelled bad news for how this evening was going to go. “It’s not ‘wacky’, it’s a serious show for serious investigations! I’m really trying to prove the existence of ghosts here.”

“Right…” Dee squinted his eyes skeptically. “And you are aware that I don’t believe in ghosts, yes?”

“Obviously. Did you think I missed the three years of you being a dick about it?”

Ah, memories. Dee didn’t bother to hide his amusement at Roman’s grumbling. “My my, you’re still holding a grudge about that? Here I thought my depiction of Hamlet’s father was enough to wipe the slate clean. Didn’t it please you to see your greatest enemy play one of the spooky creatures you like so much?”

Rather delightfully, frustration gave way and the corners Roman’s eyes crinkled with the beginnings of mirth before he quickly hid the expression away by shoving another chip into his mouth. It was the kind of reaction Dee was still growing used to seeing from their back-and-forths, not quite being sure when their exchanges of teasing remarks had crossed the line into something more friendly. That said, it was certainly not an unpleasant development; in some senses, it felt rather rewarding to catch a glimpse of something less refined behind a curtain of perfectionism, much like seeing the behind-the-scenes of a broadway production. 

“Oh don’t get me wrong, you really did give an excellent performance. I can still remember act one scene five like it was yesterday. 'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, a serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark is by a forged process of my death’!” Roman dramatically reenacted the performance, hand pressed to his heart, and Dee preened under the praise.

“Why thank you. The dull lead was quite a letdown, though we certainly outdid ourselves in spite of the poor casting, didn’t we? Still, I can’t say that flattery will convince me to hunt ghosts with you or... whatever it is you were hoping for. The point still stands that it’s not exactly the sort of thing I’ve ever pictured putting on my resume.”

Roman’s smile faltered and he cleared his throat awkwardly. Without the comfort of dancing around their thoughts with friendly banter, things got uncomfortably serious a tad too quickly, it seemed. 

“I get that it’s... not ideal to you, considering how you always had high aspirations for your career, and a webshow is probably too low on the radar for your pompous-self. Heh... To be honest, I’m not sure why Remus thought you’d be a good candidate for the job,” Wow, rude. “But he did, and I’m kind of out of options here.”

Roman paused, the buzz of bar filling the silence between them as he clearly struggled to speak what was on his mind.

“Actually, the more I think about it, I can’t come up with anyone else I’d like to join more than you. You’d be a great host! You’re good at talking to crowds when you want to, you know how to improv, you’re one of the funniest people from our class, and as much as I hate to admit it, I always enjoyed acting with you on stage-”

At some point during Roman’s rant, Dee’s brain short-circuited with the words, and even as he tried to process they just kept on coming, to his absolute befuddlement.

“-And I guess I feel like you’d co- ...Hey, phantom of the opera, are you even listening to me?! I’m pretty much singing your praises here, which let me tell you, is rare for me, and you’re staring off into space! If you’re that disinterested, you should just say so.”

“Sorry. I was paying attention, I just...”

Dee scrunched his eyes shut as he tried to work through what Roman had said. Maybe it shouldn’t be such a shock to hear the compliments coming from someone he regarded as being an equal in terms of talent, yet part of him still screamed at him that it was only empty flattery to sway his decision. Sure enough, while it may be true that his cynicism had never failed him in the past, he still yearned to ignore the knee-jerk judgment and choose the better option, the one which meant that he was considered the first choice for something and his presence was wanted. Unbelievably, even to himself, he found himself tempted, if only by the warmth that came from such a thought. Perhaps if he was without the greater knowledge that he had, he would have jumped at the opportunity in a heartbeat, however the fact still remained that he was tired and worn from years of strife. At this point in his life, self-preservation was the only thing keeping him going, and so the idea of leaving the peaceful bubble he had built up itched like nothing else. But then, his thoughts drifted back to what could happen, of letting down Remus who had obviously entrusted him in this, despite everything they had gone through.

He truly must be growing soft, if he was willingly jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.

(And was that so bad, to try to feel some warmth again?)

Begrudgingly, he opened his eyes to Roman’s concerned face. 

“...Alright. Perhaps flattery does get you some places. With such a compelling argument, how could I possibly say no?” He drawled, as nonchalantly as he could possibly muster.

Already flustered by his decision to agree so readily, he picked up his overly-sugary drink as a means to avoid eye-contact, though when seconds passed with no audible response, his focus still ended up being drawn to the other man for his reaction. Roman’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates and simultaneously filled with joy; despite the muddy brown of the lighting that had washed out his features into a pool of shadows, they looked as if they were sparkling.

Dee felt the wind knocked out of him at having that expression pointed towards him. It seemed like it had been so long since somebody had been brought that much happiness because of something he did. This...wasn’t a terrible feeling, he decided in that moment.

“That wasn’t sarcasm, was it? You really want to join?!” Roman just about yelled, drawing back the eyes of a few of the other patrons. Dee chuckled nervously, wondering how he could get them out of the building as swiftly as possible without causing further ruckus. If they would be working together, the last thing they needed was to get into a fist-fight, after all.

“I do. Please don’t make me regret my decision.”

In return, he was given a beaming smile, one that equally eased his uncertainties and spoke of future trouble.

“You won’t, I promise.”

#answered #Chapter 1: Settling #written responses #janus sanders #roman sanders #roceit #((or at least you have dee being Soft and Gay)) #((can you tell i haven't written in many moons? ghjdhfjs))

[agent-cupcake]

hey! if you’re still taking fire emblem requests, can i request claude getting jealous or annoyed because the reader is getting confessed to by a lot of students?

This is from Claude’s perspective, which might have been a bad call because that boy can be quite the mental enigma, BUT I tried my best and really what else can you ask for. Aside from quality, please don’t ask for that. 

-

“Feeling jealous, Claude?” Hilda asked in a sugary tone, her elbows braced in an unladylike fashion on the tabletop and chin dropped lazily into the cup of her palm. Claude lowered the book he hadn’t really been reading, looking over at the girl he’d only been half aware of since her uninvited arrival at his table in the corner of the library. He measured her words for a moment, trying to decide if she was borrowing from his repertoire by trying to make her own entertainment out of his lackluster conversational skills, or if she as leading into something with the taunting question. Either way, he supposed it was better than his current fruitless endeavors.

Across the room, the noble doing his very best to charm you laughed. Claude resisted the urge to allow the sound to distract him. He did notice, through no fault of his own other than a set of good ears, that you did not laugh in return.

“How do you figure?” Claude asked Hilda, deciding to humor her with an easy smirk. Better than allowing her baseless question to stand. She sighed and rolled her eyes, as if the accusation was so self evident that explaining it was a chore, but her glee that that he’d taken the bait was evident.

“Your little dancer has been stolen away from you.” Her gaze flicked towards the table where you sat with the newest suitor in the lineup that had begun shortly after your breathtaking, and winning, performance for the White Heron Cup. Hilda’s expression shifted away from amusement. “Or should I say, stolen away from us. I blame the professor, he should have known that a girl like her would get all dizzy and confused with the spotlight on her like this. Me on the other hand…”

“Now who’s jealous?” Claude teased lightly, raising an eyebrow.

“Jealous?” Hilda asked incredulously with a grand show of affront, her delicate eyebrows furrowing. “No, I’m worried,” she said, stressing the word heavily. “I mean, look at her!”

Claude’s gaze followed Hilda’s gesture towards your table, not that he needed the aid for his eyes drawn to the scene. It was much the same as it had been for the last quarter hour. Study material spread out on the table around you as you attempted to help one of the more devious boys who had maneuvered past your defenses with a backhanded tactic of asking for a tutor rather than a date. The real question was if you were truly too naive to see his true motives, or if your awkward handling of his flirtations and strict adherence to the charade of studying were an attempt at deflection. Either way, the overwhelming awkwardness made for an exceptionally difficult watch.

Of course, Claude found it nearly impossible to look away. In part, he could chalk it up to the incredibly inconvenient place for this little tryst. Libraries were sacred, meant to be peaceful environments. But, watching you squirm and flush ignited another, more private kind of annoyance; he had tried so hard to figure out a way to get under your skin, it was almost cheap how easy the various hopefuls managed it when he had been consistently unsuccessful. Not that he enjoyed your distress. Well, not when he wasn’t the one who had figured out how to instigate it.

“Not everybody can handle the spotlight,” Hilda said, dragging Claude from his thoughts. “Poor thing. I wouldn’t have minded working a little harder if it meant I could shelter her from that terrible burden.”

“How noble of you,” Claude responded dryly.

“It is, isn’t it,” Hilda agreed with a hint of surprise at her own behavior, either unaware of or ignoring his sarcasm. Claude was inclined to think the latter. “Anyway, I was thinking that since we agree that she doesn’t seem very happy about things and you’re already over here skulking about it anyway-”

“Woah, I am not skulking-”

Hilda bullied past Claude’s somewhat indignant denial, continuing without pause, “You could go over there and scare him off.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” Claude asked, deciding that trying to argue the finer details wasn’t worth it.

“Oh, you know,” Hilda said, waving her hand in a way that managed to be both flippant and graceful. “I’m sure if you go over there, he’ll remember something very important that he needs to leave for. My brother used to do that all the time to scare off boys.”

“Uh huh… And once her schedule’s cleared, maybe she’ll remember that you agreed to help you with… Kitchen duty, was it?” Claude asked.

Hilda stiffened, doing a good job of feigning indignation and confirming his suspicions. It had been a long shot to assume Hilda would do something solely out of the goodness of her heart, he supposed. “That is so not the point! I’m really worried about her!” She paused, a crease appearing in the center between her eyebrows. “She’s a little bit too nice, I’m really afraid that those boys will take advantage of her.”

“But it’s okay if you do?”

“I would never!” Hilda exclaimed, mimicking shock at the very idea. “I actually care about her. If she wants to help me, it’s only because she cares about me too.”

There was a flaw in that logic that Claude didn’t feel like pointing out, mainly because Hilda still had a point. For all of your skills and abilities, you stank of awkward inexperience. It could be endearing in its own way, but it called into question your ability to avoid danger even if you were fully capable of sensing it. People like Hilda and him could wear their masks no matter the circumstance, but you weren’t accustomed enough to attention to keep it up in unfamiliar circumstances. Plus, the nobleman had scooted at least a foot and a half closer to you in the time since he’d sat down, and Claude didn’t like the possessive way he casually touched you.

“Why don’t you go over there?” Claude finally asked, more out of a sense of obligatory obstinance than a belief he could convince Hilda otherwise. “I’m sure you’re far more familiar with managing a complicated love life than I am.”

“No way. Trust me, the only way to get a guy like that to back down is if another man scares him off,” Hilda explained matter-of-factly. Claude wasn’t sure how he felt about that logic, unable to decide if Hilda truly believed it, or if she was just trying to avoid the labor of conflict.

“All right, all right, I get it,” Claude relented. “I suppose I’ll see what I can do, although if it backfires and she gets upset I’m blaming it on you.”

“Oh come on, you’re so charming and charismatic, there’s no way she’ll be mad at you! And once you rescue her, you’ll be her hero.” Hilda stood up and stretched, as if talking him into doing as she wanted had been an especially taxing task. “Anyway, I know you’ll do great, so I’ll get going now. Remember to remind her of her promise. Four thirty in the kitchen.” She smiled, and with a dainty wave, Hilda departed from the library, twintails swinging behind her in a rosy trail.

Claude sighed, knowing he’d been played. Then again, he didn’t exactly relish to trying to get through another heavily edited and censored version of a historical look at Heroes Relics while listening to your date laugh and coo over you, it was hard enough to read without. If Seteth stocked the library with books any drier, Claude was sure there’d be a ban on open flame anywhere on the second floor out of fear for the libraries stock of excellent kindling.

He dropped the book and stood, stretched, then made his way over to your table, slow and easy.

“-the ball,” the boy was saying quietly to you, having moved closer than ever. “I’d be honored to have such a fluid and graceful creature on my arm such as you, perhaps you could even teach me-”

“This seat taken?” Claude asked with a smile, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to you regardless of the answer.

You broke from your oh-so diligent student to look at Claude with wide eyes. Not the slightly panicked gaze you gave the various boys when they confessed or flirted with you, but the searching one he knew all too well. Surprised, vaguely defensive, and a touch piercing. He savored it now, especially in contrast to the icy glare the man looking past your shoulder was leveling at him.

“I’m sorry, but this is a private session,” the boy said, pompous and lacking any of the slimy charm he’d used to speak to you with.

“I was hoping I could join in, actually. I’ve been having problems with-” Claude glanced down at the papers and books strewn across the table. “-the real life applications of chemistry.” 

Just saying that made him smirk. This stuff was basic when compared the things he’d taught himself, material more suited to a child. Or a noble who had never had any need to learn such things and wanted an excuse to get closer to a pretty girl.

“Are you?” you asked, obviously not believing him. For a moment, Claude was half sure you’d turn him away just to be difficult, but then you shrugged. “I suppose I don’t mind. Theo and I were going over the properties and uses of plants found in the south.”

“Oh, great! Awfully important stuff, that. No wonder the two of you looked so intense,” Claude said. You stiffened slightly, but Theo’s lips merely formed a thin line.

“I’m afraid I find it difficult to learn properly in group settings,” Theo said rigidly. Despite the fact he his words were pointedly aimed at Claude, there was something distinctly territorial about the way he moved closer to you, his hand on the back of your chair. Hilda had said that he’d run at seeing another man, but Claude saw something else. This Theo didn’t see you as a girl, but as something to possess, and he didn’t want some suspicious outsider to take that away. It was petty enough to make Claude’s stomach turn.

“For me personally, I think it’s easiest to learn with other people,” Claude said, not allowing himself to look affected. “Especially chemistry, you practically need other people to really study this stuff.”

“Is that so?” Theo asked. You frowned at Claude, as if you already knew what he was going to say. He said it anyway.

“Sure,” Claude answered easily, as casual as could be. “I daresay test subjects are important to most of the sciences. Hey, maybe with a bit of experimentation we could come up with something to ease your nerves. You looked pretty nervous before I got here. Makes a guy wonder about what you might have been asking my friend here…”

“It was of little significance to you,” Theo responded stiffly.

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Claude’s voice was smooth. Smug. He could tell his words had an effect, even if Theo was slow to relent.

“Actually, we were discussing the ball,” you said, pulling both boy’s surprise. “I was just about to explain to Theo that all of us deer are all going stag,” you finished, face deadly serious. It took a moment, but Claude saw the slight twitch of your lips at the joke. It was so bad it wrapped back around to clever. He had to stifle a laugh.

“Is that so?” Theo asked. He either hadn’t got the double meaning, or that stick was well and truly that far up his butt. “Well, apologies for the abruptness, but I believe it’s time for me to take my leave now.” He said, attempting and mostly successful in returning to his slimy charm in bidding you farewell, sparing you an awkward hand kiss and all. Theo shot one last glare for Claude, but left. How charming.

Claude let out a laugh as soon as the pompous noble was out of sight. At the bad joke, but also at expense of poor Theo. After a second, you joined in. If Claude felt any smug glee in hearing your laugh, he didn’t dwell on it.

“That was terrible,” Claude eventually said, forcing his voice into a lower volume to avoid more glares from those nearby.

“I thought it was clever,” you said, your shoulders relaxing somewhat. You were more relaxed around him, but in a way you were also more guarded. “Besides, I’m not the terrible one, you are. Threatening to poison the boys I talk to… What are you, my keeper?” you asked. Cutting words, but there was still a layer of levity to them. 

Still, he frowned. “That hurts, truly,” Claude responded, a hand over his heart and brows scrunched in unhappiness. “Besides, I wasn’t threatening him. I wouldn’t dare poison a boy you obviously care for so deeply.”

Now your face twisted in disgust. “I don’t care for him,” you said with just a touch more force than necessary. Then you paused, shrugged. “He said he’d pay me to tutor him, and I didn’t think anything of it…” You sighed, shaking your head with a frown. Your cluelessness was a tad pitiful, but in a cute way. At the same time, Claude disdained it.  

“It’s a terrible burden to be so popular, isn’t it?” he asked, his sarcastic tone unintentionally verging on sardonic, the bitterness surprising even him. You looked up, eyes narrowing and that look of weariness fading away. They weren’t the wide eyes of discomfort and awkwardness, like with the poor Theo, but focused with a sort of fire. Claude didn’t exactly mind it. His comment, stinking of something he dared not called jealousy, obviously got under your skin.

For a moment, it looked as if you were going to admonish him, but that passed as the fire burned out. 

“You’re just jealous,” you accused primly, turning your face away from him in a rather pointed manner to gather up the paper and books strewn across the table top.

Claude disliked hearing that word from you even more than he disliked hearing it from Hilda, finding himself without an immediate retort as he considered if you were joking or not. He wondered if there was a way to argue, to express the definite lack of jealousy in his displeasure while watching you and that noble fop laughing and flirting. Then again, if you were joking, even a playful argument would make him look guilty. Claude didn’t like to gamble with uncertain odds.

Fortunately, you saved him the roll of the dice. “I guess it’s fine anyway, the whole thing was a waste of time. I should thank you,” you said softly. 

The minute tension in Claude’s posture eased. “Actually, you should thank Hilda,” he said, playing his relief off with a practiced casualness. “She said that you looked uncomfortable and in dire need of assistance. I guess she’s familiar with those types of situations.”

“Hilda asked you?” you asked with a slight air of disbelief, looking up from organizing the papers to glance around the library, as if the girl would be lounging around somewhere among the books.

“Apparently,” Claude said, almost regretfully, “You agreed to help with her kitchen duty today.” 

You paused, thinking. “I did didn’t I... I forgot about that... At the forth bell, right?” you asked.

“Afraid so,” Claude responded. 

You winced, shaking your head and returning to organizing all of your papers and books with more urgency. Claude was amazed by the sheer volume. It looked like you were taking on even more extracurricular work than him, most of the books on subjects the professor wasn’t covering in class. He hadn’t noticed that before, but it was strange.

“If it helps any, she did seem sincerely worried. She just has an odd way of showing it,” Claude said in a halfhearted defense. That wasn’t a lie, really. Hilda just had an unique way of showing her concern. By now, however, you probably knew that.

“And what about you?” you asked, peering over at him as he tried to surreptitiously read the spines of all the books you had.

“Huh… Me?” Claude asked, looking away quickly, and somewhat guiltily, to meet your eyes. They were searching and more than a little difficult to read, your mood having shifted entirely without his notice.

“I mean, you’re not one to do things without a reason. So why, truly?”

Truly? What truth did you want, he wondered. What were you really asking with  this sudden shift in tone? If Claude didn’t know any better, which he really didn’t, he’d suppose that you were looking for a very specific answer. If only he knew what that answer was.

“Oh no, not me. Saving you from the clutches of some slobbering nobleman was completely altruistic,” Claude responded without missing a beat, opting for neutrality rather than trying to solve the puzzle of the female mind. Wearing an easy smile, he leaned back in his chair casually. “But I guess I did get some entertainment. And a bad joke, too. Not a bad deal if you ask me.”

It wasn’t a lie, not really, but it wasn’t the ‘truly’ truth you wanted. Not that Claude was entirely sure what you did want. Unfortunately, that was the way those things went. Especially where you were concerned.  

“It wasn’t a bad joke,” you muttered as you looked away, obviously unhappy about more than the comment as you packed up the rest of your things. Claude tried to engage you further, but it was clearly a lost cause. By the time you left, the forth bell chiming happily, he was actually grateful to return to the awful book he’d dropped. At least the words were coherent. Well, most of them. And he had an actual figure to be mad at; in this case being the terrible author who’d written the senseless book or Seteth for thinking it was worth keeping; rather than imagining any given faceless boy who wore you on his arm like some sort of prize. 

Not that he was jealous, because he wasn’t, but because he still found himself unable to understand you. And there was nothing more enticingly annoying than that.

-

1. Hope you enjoyed this. 2. I know I’ve been not posting and stuff, but I have been working on something! I doubt I’ll post it bc it’s OC fic, but rest assured that it is some quality stuff. Super quality. 3. Claude and Hilda are like dysfunctional squad parents and that’s the dynamic I feel that I deserve in my life and that’s all about that. Thanks for reading, I love you all, and remember: Never Underestimate an Outsider.

#claude von reigen #claude von reigen x reader #claude x reader #fe claude #claude #fe claude x reader #my writing #fire emblem three houses #FE3H #hilda valentin goneril

[lesbianonna]

ignore

@lornapolaris

it’s dream time lads lets go

The flowers hanging off the lamp post were swaying in the wind, petals of purple and red grazing against the window I was looking out of. The tip of my nail tapped against the glass above the writing advertising the freshly baked pastries provided every morning.

“She’s not listening.” I wasn’t.

The conversation blended in and out, and I wondered how often my name had fallen from my friends’ mouth before I realized a conversation was taking place. “What is she looking at?”

“She’s bored,” I said with a grin, turning on the most comfortable seat in the café. “You guys aren’t as entertaining as you used to be. Maybe I need new friends.”

Without looking up from his laptop, the newest addition to my group of friends (and best friend’s boyfriend) replied, “We’re the only people who tolerate you, babe, and don’t you forget it.”

I laughed loudly, head thrown back, while Isabel pinched Ten’s side, a threatening look on her face. “Don’t say that,” she hissed while he put his hands up in apology, muttering in annoyance at being interrupted.

“It’s true,” I mumbled, kicking Isabel gently. We exchanged soft smiles, and I winked at her before turning to the rest of the group in a poor attempt at trying to catch up with their conversations.

Hannah was in the middle of trying to explain a complicated procedure she endured during her most recent hospital visit, but my eyes and mind began to wander when I realized that I was present during her appointment and knew the ins and outs of the entire process.

I vaguely felt my fingers play with Isabel’s sleeve, eyes on the movements outside of the window. My breathing slowed with the gentleness of it all – the top forty of the 2010s playing from the cheap speakers, people around me giggling as they tried to catch the crumbs of their baked goods.

Tourists and locals alike passed by, but my heart leapt in my chest when a group of men I had not seen in nearly two years caught my eye.

My jaw dropped, a sharp inhale of air catching Hannah’s attention. “What’s wrong?” she asked anxiously.

I had no time to stop and register that all eyes were now on me as I drank in his features. “He cut his hair,” I all but whined. Confused exclamations made me whine louder as I pressed my face closer to the window as Calum and his friends walked up to the café.

He had not ditched his skinny jeans, nor had he gotten rid of his leather jacket. He was the same happy person I had gotten to know when we were teenagers. His smile was bright, eyes squinting at his friend as he grabbed their arms during his fit of laughter. Calum’s hair had grown over the last years – something I only knew thanks to social media – but it had been months since I had last seen a picture of him, and it was back to being short on the sides and curly on the top.

“He’s so pretty, what the hell,” I rasped.

Bodies pushed me against the back of the chair as they tried to catch a glimpse of who I was talking about. My hands were clasped over my mouth as I slid out from underneath my friends and onto the floor. Hannah, the only one who stayed seated, stared at me as if she’d never met me before.

“You are twenty-three.” She put her entire disappointment in the one sentence.

“I can’t help it,” I nearly yelled. “He’s had a hold on me since I was, like, fifteen.”

“Who are we even talking about?” She frowned as she limped toward the window. A path was cleared for her immediately and recognition flashed in her eyes. “Oh! Calum!”

My face dropped.

Hannah smiled and waved when the two of them made eye contact. I squeaked and found myself pressed against a pair of legs, apparently wrong about Hannah being the only one who stayed seated; Ten looked down at me with an incredulous look on his face. “Is this what you’re like when you have a crush? It’s ridiculous. Pull yourself together, for god’s sake.”

“Ten, he’s so pretty. He‘s the prettiest man alive.”

“That would be me.”

“Shut up!”

The electronic bell signaling someone had stepped on the doormat made me freeze – and Ten snicker. There was a second pause before our group sat up simultaneously and acted as though we hadn’t ogled the men who had walked in just seconds ago. I stayed on the floor by Ten and Isabel’s feet, avoiding eye contact, listening to Hannah sigh and greet her friend.

I watched them walk to the counter to order from the corner of my eye, his mop of black hair standing out to me as if a spotlight were shining on him. A pair of hands gently gathered my hair together soothingly and Isabel’s voice whispered in my ear. “You’re blushing. Do you need some ice water?”

“Yes,” I tried, but my voice got stuck in my throat. I cleared it. “Yes.”

The owner of the café, Alex, overheard us speak and nodded me over. “Come on.” She smirked, and I knew I had failed miserably at hiding my feelings from outsiders. Groaning, I followed her into the kitchen – a place I had once been banned from – with my head bowed to keep my hair in my face. I kept my back to Calum.

When we entered the arch to the kitchen, I groaned once more and flipped my hair, walking in blindly. My hands made a makeshift ponytail, but when I caught a glimpse of myself, I dropped them and sputtered at Alex. “My hair! Has it looked like this all day?”

“Yes. And it looks fine.”

“I need to wash it.” I kicked one of the refrigerators with a pout as I felt the embarrassment of the situation flash through me. The vegetables inside of the fridge rattled as I tapped it, following Alex’s reflection with my finger. When she disappeared out of view, I grabbed the handles and searched for a bottle of water.

“Other one.” I looked over my shoulder to find Alex pointing at the set of coolers on the far end of the room with the knife in her hand.

I skipped over, nails running over the soft steel surface. My hair settled, the blush on my cheeks disappearing with time and cold water running down my throat. “We’ve never even spoken. He’s just that one person who, whenever I see him, it feels like the first time.” I paused. “That was worded disgustingly. Can we pretend I never said that?”

“Erased it from my memory as soon as you did.” Alex gathered her freshly baked bread into her basket and walked into the adjacent chamber to prepare dinner.

I sighed and pressed the cold water to my face – time to act like a human. I hoped my reaction went unnoticed.

“Is she alone in the kitchen?” I heard as I unzipped my jacket. I made a face at the voice. “That seems dangerous. Does anyone have the fire department on speed dial?”

“Is your friend okay?” My brows shot up at the sound of Calum’s voice clear as day ringing through my ears.

Hannah’s shadow joined his in the hall as she said, “Go check on her for me, please? She’s a disaster in the kitchen.” Her fairy-like giggle echoed through the back of the café and made Calum join in on the laughter; his boots stomped on the tiles and I stared at the bottle in my hand.

He was still laughing.

And then he was singing.

I hadn’t registered the One Direction song playing over the speakers as it was muffled thanks to the dishwasher running, but as soon as Calum began singing about someone lighting up his world and dancing as he stopped in the doorway, I recognized the song.

My hand flew to my mouth as a grin made my lips split, a loud laugh making me lose track of the song again. Calum only sang louder. He threw his head back, hands by his hips as he lowered and began swinging them from side to side.

“God, I miss them,” he said, still grinning.

“One Direction?” He nodded. “Me, too. They owe me a What A Feeling music video.”

Calum’s eyes widened as he stuck his hand out to me. “That’s what I keep saying, but no one wants to listen. Why was History their last single?” He shook his head in mock disappointment as he crossed his arms over his chest, making his physique appear even broader.

The kitchen was a place I sometimes sat in when even the quiet café became too loud for me, the familiar, rhythmic noises soothing and monotone (as long as I stayed away from any heat). Now, Calum took over as the sun danced off his bronze skin, his body acting as a statue, the center of the room.

My eyes shifted, concentrating on the label I had ripped off the bottle instead. I owed Alex ten cents.

“You’re shy?” Calum’s voice was a breath above a whisper as he stepped further into the room. Our hands splayed on the table, the difference in size comical. I hummed, grinning out of both habit and embarrassment. “That’s okay!” he reassured me quickly and I admired his big smile, the one that made his eyes disappear and lines appear on his cheeks.

“Sorry Hannah made you come back here.”

“No,” he said quickly. I glanced up worriedly, but Calum shook his head and laughed. “No, no, I wanted to. I saw you get up just as I went to speak to you.” It sounded like a confession in my head, and I pushed the thought away, pushed it past the pounding in my ears.

“Everything okay?” I asked quietly.

Calum stared – and stared. I wanted to break eye contact when I felt my face heat up once again, but since it may be the last time I would see him, I stayed put.

“You have highlights in your hair.” His hand reached for the tips of my hair, twisting a strand around his finger. My jaw shook. I clenched my teeth. “You didn’t have those last time I saw you.”

My head moved as if I’d been shocked, making Calum accidentally pull on my hair. We both fumbled over our words, apologizing to one another, and grabbing each other’s hands.

Calum chuckled as he placed one hand over both of mine and stepped around the table before lacing his fingers with mine. “Breathe,” he said.

“Breathing.”

We inhaled together and exhaled, and I shook my head, eyes to the ceiling when I finally gathered myself enough to say, “No, I did not have those last time. Though, I don’t remember the last time I saw you. Or you saw me.” I left the last sentence open, ending it in a question.

Calum made a thoughtful sound as he pushed his weight against me gently. “A few months ago. You were helping Hannah put her wheelchair together. You threw a wrench into the street, looked like you regretted it immediately then waited about a minute by the street for the cars to stop driving by so you could pick it up.” I dropped our hands as he laughed. I was extremely aware of the fact that his head fell against my shoulder as he laughed.

And remembered that they were neighbors.

“It was frustrating,” I said quietly. I smiled up at him when he squeezed our hands. “We returned that thing immediately.”

“Should’ve asked for my help.”

“How?” I challenged.

“With my number.” Calum swiped his thumb across the back of my hand before gently letting go and reaching for his phone.

He unlocked it and searched his contacts application, but I opened my big mouth before I could stop it. “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant, I’m so—”

“I know. Let me give it to you anyway, and next time you feel like throwing something, you text me.” Somehow, my phone ended up in my hands, too, “Or you text me whenever you want.”

[official-helpless]

Here it is people!! An official chapter from book two of my Helpless series; Retaliation! This is chapter seventeen. This chapter is 13 pages long with 3,116 words! Enjoy! And as always, I love feedback!

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Dustin and Talon park on the opposite side of Dean Henderson’s new street.

“Are you sure about this, Talon?” Dustin is obviously nervous. Talon is about to kill a man. “What if you get caught?”

Talon chuckles, “I won’t.” He assures his boyfriend confidently. He looks across the street at the medium-sized gray house.

“Is he even home?” Dustin looks over too, moving his head to try and get a better look.

Then they spot him. He is cleaning his windows. Talon can see the dark bags under the old man’s eyes. “His face still makes me sick.”

“What exactly did he do to you?” Dustin is genuinely curious. He never really knew Talon’s other abusers. Other than his parents and that pack of bullies.

“He would call my parents and lie to them about how I was doing in school. He would turn a blind eye to the gym teacher that would harass the boys in her class, including me. He would punish me when Chase would attack me and say I attacked him. A lot of the beatings I got were because of him.” Talon explains darkly. He pulls out his guns and double checks to make sure they’re loaded.

“Holy shit.” The gleaming guns reflect in Dustin’s bright eyes. “Those are your weapons? Color me impressed.” He takes one gun from Talon and examines it, “I’ve always wanted to shoot one of these.”

Talon laughs and takes the gun back. He puts them both in the holders on the inside of his jacket, “Maybe you can come shooting with me on one of my practice days. I can show you how.”

“Not gonna lie, Talon,” Dustin exhales slowly, “That’s probably one of the hottest things you’ve ever said.”

Talon smiles and gives Dustin a quick kiss, “This won’t take long.”

The three brothers are parked a little further down the road. Their attention is dead set on the house, as is Dustin’s. He’s still nervous and prepared for anything to happen.

Talon strolls right up to the house and knocks enthusiastically. As if this was a casual visit. The man answers the door and his expression twists into one of confusion.

“C- can I help you?” Dean asks hesitantly. He squints his beady eyes. “Do I know you?”

Talon grins and pushes the man back into the house. “Home alone?” He steps in and slams the door shut, “Let’s have a little talk.”

“How do you think he’s going to do it?” Zeke asks, leaning in close to the window.

“This guy didn’t rape him,” Bone replies, narrowing his eyes a little, “So there won’t be a bullet to the crotch. My guess is in the chest. Not too messy.”

“Nah.” Zeke shakes his head slowly. “I say right between the eyes.”

“Wanna bet?” Bone casts a sideway glance at his brother. They smile at each other slyly. “Twenty bucks it’s in the chest.”

“You’re on.” Zeke leans back and reaches between the seats to shake Bone’s hand.

“You two are fucked up.” Damien speaks up from his seat. His wide eyes stare at his brothers in complete disbelief.

“How long has it been, Mr. Henderson?” Talon saunters around the old man’s living room, inspecting his poor taste in decor as he waits for an answer.

The man’s wide eyes watch Talon practically circle him. “M-my wife will be back from the store soon.” He says, hoping to scare the albino off.

“Then you better answer quickly.” Talon retorts. The man doesn’t respond. “Come on Dean.” Talon whispers harshly, “You’re a smart man. How long has it been?” He wants the satisfaction of the man admitting he knows exactly who Talon is.

Dean swallows hard. There are sweat stains in the pits of his cheap polo and his hands are trembling. “It.. It’s been f-five ye-”

“Five years.” Talon interrupts with a slow nod, “Let me ask you something, Dean.” He looks at his hand and slides the fingernail of his pinky under the fingernail of his thumb, “Man to man, do you think you lived a good life? Are you proud of yourself?

Dean’s chest rises and falls rapidly. “I- I’d like to think I did.”

Talon squints and puts on a fake smile, “Did you though?” He circles Dean again. “So, calling a child a demon because of his skin is something to be proud of.” He stops and takes a step towards the man. “Lying and getting that same child beaten, giving him detention when he gets beat up, telling the other teachers to intentionally fail him just to get him in trouble? That’s living a good life, huh?” He shrugs, “I suppose it was a good life for you. Getting away with that must’ve been pretty satisfying.” He pulls out a gun and cocks it. “This, however, will be satisfying for me.” He presses it to Dean’s forehead.

Dean has tears in his eyes. He never expected to die this way. He is frozen to his spot, his pants are soiled and his entire body is shaking. His jaw twitches and his bottom lip trembles. He looks pathetic.

Dustin flinches at the sound of the gunshot. He sees blood and brain matter splatter onto the window. He looks around frantically. No one else is around, and no one seemed to hear anything. He’s glued to the window, waiting anxiously for Talon.

“Look at that splatter,” Zeke says with a dark laugh. He moves his blond bangs away from his eyes, “Totally shot him in the head.”

“Dammit.” Bone grumbles. He knows he can’t argue with the evidence. He pulls out his wallet and gives Zeke a twenty. “Just you wait till we get to the gym teacher’s house. Double or nothing.”

Zeke chuckles as he shoves the twenty in his pocket, “You got it, big guy.”

“I hate you guys.” Damien mumbles grumpily. His two brothers don’t get along very often, and when they do, they bond over the darkest things.

Talon steps out of the house and closes the door gently. He wipes his face with a black cloth as he crosses the street to the truck. “That went better than expected.” He says quietly. He pauses when he notices Dustin staring at him. Why was he staring at him like that? Was he scared?

Dustin uses his thumb to wipe away some blood that was still on Talon’s cheek, “Point blank?”

Dustin’s question surprises Talon. It’s an odd question. “Yes?” He answers in an uncertain tone.

Dustin takes a moment to look at Talon’s eyes. They’re glowing brightly. The bright green and shocks of pink. His cat-like pupils are dilated. The albino is visibly exhilarated. “That was impressive.” He compliments.

Talon smiles and a wave of relief crashes over him. His phone beeps, and he sees a text from Damien saying they are heading to the next house. “We are hitting the gym teacher next. Her house is on the way back.” He informs Dustin.

X

Serpent and Spade are only forty-five minutes behind the others.

“S- Serpent. There are cops here.” Spade speaks up anxiously as they pull up to Dean’s house. “And it looks like he has a wife.” He notices a cop comforting a grieving older woman.

“Don’t worry, little doctor.” Serpent shuts the car off and steps out. Spade exits the car hesitantly. He walks beside him and they cross the street.

“Hey!” A cop shouts as they near the house, “You can’t-”

“There’s nothing for you here.” Serpent’s voice is a deep growl and his eyes glow. He looks at the small group of officers, “You and everyone else on this property need to leave. Nothing happened.”

They all mumble their agreements and get in their cars. They leave without a single argument. He tells the old lady to follow them quietly. He does the same thing to the CSI workers in the house he did to the cops. They leave without a word.

“Sit.” Serpent says to the old lady. She sits silently.

“H- how did you do that?” Spade is amazed. He’s never seen Serpent do a trick like that.

“Compulsion. One of the perks of being me.” Serpent says with a low chuckle.

Spade stops. All this time, Serpent could force him to comply, but he doesn’t. He feels a whole new respect growing.

“Eighteen hundred years alive and you don’t know what you are? What category you fall in to?” Spade looks up at him, “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Not at all.” Serpent responds, examining the body. The bullet is still on the floor. “Finding out what I am won’t change it. I’ll still be me either way, so I’m in no hurry.”

That’s another quality that Spade admires about Serpent. Nothing ever bothers him, and if it does, he doesn’t show it. He handles each situation with dignity and control.

“You got lucky. You knew what you were right away.” Serpent looks down on Spade, “Nymph.”

Spade’s cheeks redden, and he looks away. “I wouldn’t call that lucky. Male nymphs are extremely rare and-”

“And extremely beautiful.” Serpent adds with a grin.

“And,” Spade adjusts his glasses nervously, “That quality gets my kind kidnapped and sold.” He says sadly.

“That’s where I come in.” Serpent reaches in his pocket and pulls out Spade’s favorite pen. He dropped it at the house when Serpent picked him up. “You’re safe with me.”

Spade’s mother originally hired Serpent to protect Spade. Spade needed protection and Serpent needed a doctor to work with him. Serpent took Spade with him, causing some waves with the doctor’s mother, but there was no way for Serpent to do his project and protect Spade in one place, “You’re always safe with me.” He promises.

“Thank you.” Spade takes the pen with a shy smile. He watches as Serpent sets Dean’s body ablaze. “What about her?” He turns to look at the old lady.

Serpent gazes at Spade. “Look away, little doctor.”

Spade’s eyes flutter a little. He turns away and stares at the floor. He hears the woman whimper, followed by the sound of her neck snapping. He puts his hand over his mouth and closes his eyes. He turns back around as Serpent is setting the woman on fire. “Couldn’t you have just compelled her to forget?”

“I could have, but who knows who else knows them. She could end up with a family member that asks too many questions. It’s easier to kill her.” Serpent places his hand on the small of Spade’s back and leads him out of the house.

Serpent is right. Spade links his arm with Serpent’s and allows the man to lead him back to the car.

X

“N-no! You’re supposed to be dead!” Michelle is terrified. Talon Adams is standing in her kitchen. “You can’t be here!”

“Oh, I understand.” Talon walks up on her, making her stumble backwards and trip on one of her dining room chairs, “I’m too old for your tastes.” He taunts.

Bone and the others are parked around the back of the house. There is no gate. Bone scans the backyard. Something rather peculiar catches his attention. He nudges Damien.

“Hey, look at that.” The tattooed man says urgently. He points to the storm cellar in the woman’s backyard. There are a pile of clothes beside it and a plate of food scraps.

Damien finds the sight a bit odd as well. He reaches to the back seat and shakes Zeke awake. “We might have a problem.”

Zeke sits up straight, “With Talon?” He asks, blinking away the sleepiness.

“Not exactly.” Damien points to what Bone showed him.

“That’s… Strange…” Zeke narrows his eyes and shifts in his seat. “Let’s go check it out.”

They all exit the car and sneak into the backyard. Dustin sees this and watches them with confusion. After a moment, he decides to follow them.

“What are y’all doin’?” Dustin asks them in a hushed tone.

Zeke cocks his head towards the cellar and points to the clothes and plate of scraps.

Dustin’s muscles tense up tightly. What the hell is this?

Bone looks at the cellar doors. “They’re chained shut.” He grabs the chains, “They’re rusted pretty badly. I can probably just-” he breaks the chains with a deep grunt. He tosses them to the side and they land with a loud clink. He opens the doors slowly, “Hello?” He calls down, careful not to be too loud.

They can hear little whimpers as a response. Bone freezes instantly. He stands up and whirls around, “She’s got someone down there. Tell Talon. Now.” Without another word, Bone races down the concrete steps and into the musty cellar.

X

“T- Talon, please… listen to me…” Michelle whimpers. She grabs the top of the counter and pulls herself to her feet, “I- I’m not as bad as you think.”

Talon raises an eyebrow. This should be good. “Why is that?”

Michelle lets out a shaky breath and wipes her forehead. “W-when I was little, I… My father molested me… It happened a lot and as I got older, I thought performing acts like that meant you loved someone…”

Talon holds back his laughter. “Are you telling me that when your father did those things to you, you felt loved?”

“Well… No… I felt scared and alone…” Michelle admits.

“So, you’re trying to tell me you harassed and molested boys because that’s the only way you could show love?” Talon scoffs. “Let’s put aside the fact that these boys were underage. None of them wanted it! Including me! You didn’t love us! You loved feeling like you were in control. Just because your dad traumatized you as a child, doesn’t give you the right to traumatize innocent people!”

Michelle knew her excuse was bullshit, but she was so desperate to stay alive that she was ready to say anything. No matter how ridiculous. “B- but isn’t that what you’re doing now?”

A smile tugs at the corners of Talon’s mouth. “No, you ignorant woman. You were sexually abused and in turn, you sexually abuse underage boys. You project your pain onto innocent people who had no intention of hurting you. I am projecting my pain on the dirtbags that had every intention of hurting me. People like you create trauma. I want to prevent it.” He takes a step towards the shaking woman, making her flinch. Just then, his phone buzzes. He pulls it out and glances at it to make sure it’s not an emergency. His anger boils hot inside of him.

“You…” His head lowers and his bangs fall over his eyes, “You sick bitch!” He shoves his phone in his pocket and rushes the woman. He snatches her up by the throat and lifts her above his head. Her feet kick at the air and her nails desperately claw at Talon’s hand. “You vile woman. You disgust me! You’re a complete waste of flesh! You’ve got someone locked in your cellar!?” His eyes flash defiantly, “How old is he!?” When the woman opts for silence, he tightens his grip. “How old is he!?”

Hot tears streak down Michelle’s face as she chokes out the words, “They’re sixteen!”

Talon feels something in him snap. Black slowly takes over the white sclera of his eyes. He throws the woman across the small kitchen. She hits the wall with a heavy thud. “There’s more than one!?”

X

Bone squints as his eyes try to adjust to the darkness of the cellar, “Hello?” He calls out again.

“P- please… don’t hurt us.” A small male voice whines in fear.

Bone blinks a few times and walks in further. He finally sees them. Two boys about the age of sixteen. His heart sinks at the sight of them, “I will not hurt you.” He says, slowly inching his way towards them. The three of them hear Michelle screaming, followed by several gunshots. The two boys start to panic and cry.

“No, no, no, no. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He crouches down and grabs the chains on their ankles. “These are fairly strong.” He mutters. He looks up at them. “Is there a key?”

One boy nods quickly. “She keeps it in a toolbox by the steps. We can’t reach it.” His voice is like gravel.

Bone gets up and heads back towards the steps. He comes back a moment later with the key. He unlocks the restraints and takes them off of the boys’ ankles. He notices they are only in their underwear. He takes off his coat and throws it around one boy, then takes off his hoodie and puts it on the other. He’s left in a black, sleeveless shirt. The boys look up at him with grateful and needy eyes. Both have dirty blond hair and shamrock green eyes.

“Do you have anyone to take you in?” Bone asks them. They shake their heads. “Do you want to come with me?” They nod their heads eagerly. “Alright.” Bone gathers them both in his arms and stands up. They cling to him desperately as he exits the cellar.

Zeke and Damien’s eyes are wide with shock. Dustin gasps at the sight. Bone carries them to the car and places them in the back seat. “Zeke, are you okay to drive? I want to sit with them.”

“Yeah, no problem, dude.” Zeke is still in complete disbelief. That woman really had two boys trapped in a cellar. He can’t imagine what they’ve been through.

Talon is coming out of the back of the house. The group can see a fire forming inside. “How many?” He asks abruptly.

“T- two.” Dustin notices the change in Talon’s eyes and feels a rush of fear. “Talon-”

“I just got off the phone with Serpent. They are heading back to the house to get supplies ready for those boys.” Talon interrupts harshly, “I collected the bullets myself and started the fire. We need to go. Now.”

The brothers nod and get into their car. Talon and Dustin get into the truck and the vehicles start. They drive off quickly.

“Talon, are you okay?” Dustin’s hands grip the steering wheel. “You looked really… angry back there.”

“Of course I did. That bitch had two sixteen-year-old boys in her cellar. She tried to blame her past trauma on her actions. I’m thoroughly disgusted. Aren’t you?” Talon’s tone is biting. His narrowed eyes glare at the blood beading on his hands where that vile woman scratched him.

“Well, yeah, but your eyes, they-” Dustin is cut off when Talon’s phone buzzes and the albino deliberately answers it. ‘Guess we’ll talk later.’ He thinks with a deep concern.

#helpless #violence #lgbtq #albino #romance #retaliation #kindle books #series #book two #Talon Adams #books #writing #guns #revenge #february 2021