#very blurry but who cares. it adds to the charm

[sylvleon]

#lion.png #mi ocs #i actually have a funnier tag for them than just their names so im using that #daddys little monster #very blurry but who cares. it adds to the charm

[dreamkidddream]

Those Doll!anon fics were really amazing! I really wanna do something like it if you don’t mind. Could I maybe get a Yorkie!MC? Like, a really short, really friendly MC until they feel like they or one of the brothers/undateables are being threatened or insulted, then they try to pick a fight they’d obviously lose? I’m just laughing at the mental imagine of this short, unthreatening human yelling at and trying to square up against a demon lol.

Awww tysm!! 💙I missed writing for Obey Me (and we also hit 666 followers at this point 😈💜) and since this was so interesting I decided that I’m gonna do the Undateables first and then do the brothers cause I feel like I don’t show them enough love 😔 reader is gender neutral!

The Undateables with Yorkie!MC

Diavolo

He is LOVING your energy

Your happiness is so contagious, it just adds onto his already cheery demeanor. He honestly feels his cheeks hurting from smiling even more when you’re around (and he doesn’t even care!)

He’s gonna buy Lucifer so much Demonus as a thank you for picking you for the exchange program. Seriously, you’re PERFECT (for him)

As the President of Student Council and future King, he loves seeing you interact with the other students, and he’s glad that they’re reacting positive to you. At least some of them do

Now, no one is to foolish (or powerful) enough to threaten Diavolo or do anything to you that can bring you harm. They can try, but they won’t be getting the results that they hope for

But he can’t help it but find it amusing when you try to “defend his honor” when someone bad mouths him. He makes sure to not let it show (gotta be professional after all) but he does tease you about it later. You’re so small and seeing you just yelling square up to this demon is hilarious. He has no idea what geometry has to do with this, but he’s learned some new slang thanks to you!

He’s finally found someone who’ll go along with his antics and more. Whereas other people may complain about him wanting to do fun activities that seem basic, you just flash a big smile, grab his hand and tell him to lead the way

(You even made matching friendship bracelets and he refuses to take it off, ever)

You really make him happy MC. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever felt this lighthearted, and he doesn’t feel the sense of loneliness that he felt himself getting used too

Also Lucifer gets twice the headache now, but the Demonus helps it go away (temporarily)

Barbatos

Ah, so another Luke, except older and that you take your threats of violence very serious, if what he sees (both in the present and the future) holds true (which it does)

You’re still harmless in his eyes though

Your friendly personality makes it easy for you to be forgiven for a lot of things…even if your actions make him give you the side eye at times

Despite how energetic you are (which is something that he’ll never grow tired of) your presence has a relaxing effect on him. Even if he has to warn you sometimes to be careful with the way that you bounce around so much, especially when he’s in the kitchen

He unfortunately can’t be by your side as he is Lord Diavolo’s butler, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t keep watch on you, even without the use of his powers

With how outgoing you are, you’re bound to attract trouble, in which you do at a constant rate. What was comical however, is that it seemed like the trouble you attracted was on his behalf

“MC, what seems to be the issue here?”

“BARB! You won’t believe this! This jerk has the nerve to call you stuck up- well I can show you stuck up! After I stick my foot up your- Huh? Hey, why am I the one being dragged away?! W- count yourself lucky that Barb is saving you right now demon! But this isn’t over- MPH!”

“I hate to spoil you before our tea party, but you were already late and I have been meaning to have you try my new recipe that I’ve been working on…”

You were too busy trying to savor the delicious flavor to focus on what just happen, which was his plan all along. You get to try more of his delicious treats and he gets to enjoy your touch and company. Crisis averted!

He’s crafty enough to have plans to evade you “fighting” and you haven’t caught on yet (or maybe you did and just feign ignorance? Either way works for him)

It doesn’t bother him what people say about him, he doesn’t care in the slightest (and they’re not bold enough to say it to his face). What he cares about is making sure that you keep your carefree energy, and that he keeps to see you with your radiating smile on your face

Simeon

You remind him so much of Luke. Are you sure you’re not from the Celestial Realm too?

Don’t worry he’s only teasing you (kinda) but you do have just as much energy if not MORE than Luke

And you don’t mind helping him either, no matter how “silly” his requests may be

“You’re doing great Si! See, you didn’t even need my help!”

“MC, I couldn’t have gotten to this point without you. My pictures are still coming out a little blurry, but that could be because you wouldn’t stand still- but it does add special kind of charm to them…”

He’s keeping them btw

He was shook when he saw you go off the first time, like he really wasn’t expecting it (Solomon did try to warn him, he was laughing but he did try to warn him)

“Don’t think just because he’s an angel means I’m bout to act like one! I will end you!”

MC please don’t make this demon “catch these hands” violence isn’t necessary

He doesn’t know what that means but he’s scared that he’s gonna find out if he doesn’t hold you back

He has reprimanded you each time when you try to fight others. He knows that demons see him as weak and talk behind his back, but he chooses to ignore them, to turn the other cheek. But just because he does, doesn’t mean that you do, and he sees that now

Simeon really doesn’t want you to fight, and it’s not even because it’s against his nature (it’s part of the reason, just not the whole reason). Fighting leads to injury, and injury leads to distress, and that’s the last thing that he wants to happen to you. And he’s not going to let anything happen to you!

He truly believes it’s a waste of time and energy, and you could find better things to do. For example, by spending time with him!

Simeon may not be your guardian angel officially, but he’s your guardian angel. Always

Has definitely written a character based on you

Luke

Is immediately upset that you don’t stay in Purgatory Hall with him, and even more upset that you don’t live in the Celestial Realm

You’re like the best older sibling he’s never had! And you don’t treat him like a baby either!

Or he’s just admiring you too much to notice

You never hesitate to help him with anything; baking, homework, pretty much anything and everything. He may try to make it seem like you need his assistance, but we all know it’s the other way around (with the exception of Luke himself)

We all know that Luke gets teased by the brothers and even his roommates sometimes (looking at you Solomon), but it’s just harmless teasing (for the most part). It’s when he hears what the other students say about him that gets to him- he tries to show that it doesn’t bother him and he tries to stand up for himself but- their words really hurt him

And no one hurts Luke and gets away with it

You already get onto the brothers for their teasing when it starts to bother him, and now the brothers have to jump in to stop you from trying to rip this demon horns’ off

You can’t really reach them and they’re pretty sure you won’t do any damage, but they rather not take the chance of you getting hurt

It’s not the first or last time that you do this either, and it just makes him feel horrible. He’s the angel here, the one that’s suppose to protect you, not the other way around!

You help him out so much, either without defending him you do so much for him already. How can he ever repay you? He feels like whatever he does won’t be enough…WAIT- he figured out what he can do!

He can get stronger and protect you! He can go to Beel so that you don’t have to fight for him anymore, or maybe have Solomon make some potions that’s like demon repellent but only for those jerks. If those mean demons see how serious and strong he is, then they’re bound to leave you guys alone! Maybe he can show you some tricks too once he’s done. He has to hurry up and tell you the plan then, you guys can’t wait any longer!

Their words do hurt, but so does seeing you putting yourself in harms way to protect him. You can’t do all the protecting MC, he needs to watch out for you too, no if ands or buts about it!

You and Luke are the duo we never knew we needed

Solomon

Ah, it’s about time he found a human as interesting and adorable as you. Where having you been hiding all his lifetime?!

He has wayyyy more fun teasing you than Luke. Your pout just makes things x100 better and cuter

Congrats on becoming his new victim MC

Another one to find you very amusing when you try to fight and won’t stop you either

He will dead serious be recording you trying to fight on his DDD. He’ll make sure that it doesn’t escalate but who is he to stop such entertainment?

He has become tempted to cast a superhuman strength spell on you, and he ends up doing it “on accident” (which has happened more than once)

Lucifer has done the “I’m watching you” thing to him every time he has lmao

But no seriously, he won’t let you get hurt; he won’t even let the chance arise. He’s already pulling you away before you can get yourself worked up fully, dragging you to the library or his room to test some new spells (one that he tempts you can use on these demons). It’s enough to get your attention back on him

You’re a daily source of his amusement and someone that he wants MC, but that doesn’t mean he can afford his favorite human getting hurt on his watch!

He’s no stranger to the gossip about him, nor is he clueless. It’s just all talk anyway, he doesn’t care and neither should you. But it is touching to know that you care this much about him and how he feels…

But he doesn’t want you to do this for him. He’s a powerful sorcerer, he can easily solve this without breaking a sweat if he wanted to, but he doesn’t deem it worthy to even waste a drop of potions on. But since you’re so concerned, maybe a quick kiss would make him feel better?

He thought you were a little gullible, but that’s not the case. You just have a very open and bright personality, one that he finds himself getting attached to more and more as each day passes

If he’s not careful, he might get more enamored with you than he already is-

#obey me #obey me reader insert #obey me x reader #obey me swd #obey me diavolo x reader #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #simeon x reader #obey me simeon x reader #solomon x reader #obey me solomon x reader #obey me luke #luke is baby

[hansolmates]

busted in busan 

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k   a/n; for @suhdays​ holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits​ for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.” 

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh. 

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans. 

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea. 

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease. 

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile. 

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head. 

“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive. 

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him. 

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment. 

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter. 

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first. 

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.” 

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.” 

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down. 

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care. 

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.” 

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him. 

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.” 

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.” 

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?” 

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.” 

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?” 

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.” 

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line. 

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot. 

“Nah, been booked since last month.” 

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?” 

He pats his luggage as a response. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.” 

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face. 

“You want my ticket,” he states. 

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those! 

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“Who said I was offering?” 

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?” 

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides. 

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.” 

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate. 

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10. 

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy. 

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes. 

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes. 

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.” 

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?” 

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.” 

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.” 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—” 

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain. 

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard. 

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not. 

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good. 

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell. 

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things. 

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price. 

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice. 

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.” 

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?” 

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution. 

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.” 

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.” 

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.” 

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.” 

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks. 

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.” 

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut. 

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh. 

You huff, and shift in your seat. 

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.” 

“Why, I’m engaged!” 

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.” 

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind. 

“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!” 

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing. 

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle. 

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.” 

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position. 

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to. 

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months. 

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.” 

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you. 

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—” 

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman. 

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger. 

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that. 

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses. 

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to. 

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook. 

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams. 

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow. 

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside. 

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible. 

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat. 

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van. 

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back. 

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them. 

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off. 

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet. 

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously. 

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots. 

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint. 

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure. 

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey. 

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?” 

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.” 

“Do you drive around a lot?” 

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.” 

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach. 

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain. 

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.” 

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.” 

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute. 

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening. 

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!” 

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.” 

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.” 

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose. 

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?” 

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.” 

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like. 

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize:  are you flirting with Jungkook? 

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell. 

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind. 

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.” 

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?” 

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.” 

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—” 

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.” 

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air. 

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car. 

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt. 

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.” 

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?” 

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.” 

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.” 

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.” 

That singular statement hits you, hard. 

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs. 

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.” 

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself. 

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable. 

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow. 

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route. 

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.  

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.” 

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath. 

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer. 

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours. 

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours. 

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?” 

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.” 

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook? 

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 

There’s no drugs. 

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell. 

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real. 

Jungkook’s an artist. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face. 

 “Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?” 

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.” 

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you. 

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.” 

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it. 

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart. 

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him. 

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow. 

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway. 

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it. 

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents. 

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.” 

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours. 

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.” 

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door. 

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed. 

It’s been a day. 

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him. 

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought. 

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face. 

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed. 

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks. 

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at  a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake. 

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox. 

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.” 

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.” 

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.” 

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.” 

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask. 

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.” 

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.” 

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.” 

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of  you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble. 

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you. 

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back. 

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.” 

“Impossible!” 

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family. 

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.” 

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door. 

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers. 

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him. 

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window. 

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.” 

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.” 

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.  

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.” 

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible. 

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.” 

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.” 

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.” 

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch. 

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking. 

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.” 

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.” 

“Will you rile me up now?” 

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.” 

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell. 

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath. 

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—” 

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.” 

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner. 

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic. 

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst

[damnlance]

Klance angsty prompt 6 please 👀

Klangst Prompt #6

6. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever”

Summary: Lately, Lance has been stressed beyond the point of breaking… The end of the war was 3 years ago and yet, it’s not enough time to pass for Lance to feel better. Not even close. Everyone has always called him a hero. And since the day they landed back on earth, everyone has gone so far to ask for photos and autographs and all that. These days Lance is sick of it.

Or; the pressures of being the ‘savior of earth’ has been building up inside of Lance, causing him to erupt on any and everyone.

Good thing he has his amazing boyfriend.

-there’s a slow start, but I PROMISE it’s klance so just keep reading!

-also galra (kitten) Keith ?? I love him

-

It all started with a fangirl just a few weeks ago.

Lance decided to walk to his favorite coffee shop one chilly afternoon. He woke up really late and was immediately craving something sweet yet bitter. And since he lives with most of his family, running out of coffee five days after buying a brand new pack of it is very common, especially when no one wants to buy more for whatever reason.

So there Lance was, walking down the street. Hands tucked into his blue lion hoodie (thanks to all the merch the fans of voltron have made over the years), making his way to the closest coffee shop near his home. And then he hears the high pitched squeal of a girl at least 10 feet away from him. Then 9 feet.. then 6.. then 4 because she’s literally running at him with the speed of a hundred cheetahs chasing a gazelle until she’s right there, face to face with Lance.

“Oh my god!!” She yelled, jumping up and down like some 5 year old girl getting a puppy. She was about 5’7, short brown hair and huge blue eyes that almost resembled Lance’s. She wore this giant faux fur coat and beanie to match, and her phone was IN LANCE’S FACE.

She was all over him and it was attracting others to stare their way. Lance tried to calm her down by smiling and using a little of his charm but it was just making the girl fangirl even more. So he took a picture with her to be on his way before the coffee shop got too busy. But she wouldn’t back off. Apparently she wasn’t satisfied with the picture, something about how her eyes were closed? Or how blurry it came out? Lance couldn't remember, he just wanted his coffee.

The girl kept hounding him and following him, demanding that he retake the picture with her. Lance let her down easy, saying how he needed to be someplace important and that he was running late. The girl kept pushing him. Following his every move, right on his heels. Begging, pleading with him to take more pictures because she ‘needed them,’ whatever that meant. Lance tried his hardest to be nice and polite because as a former paladin of voltron and as one of seven someone’s who have saved the entire universe, his image is everything. Without him or his former paladins, there would probably be no earth. So he stopped in his tracks and took a better picture with the girl.

He felt good to see her happy because of something that he had done. Plus he looked really good in that picture, who knew the earth’s natural lighting at 1pm could make his skin look so smooth? Once he gave his approval of the better pic, he was on his way again, hoping that the line to the coffee shop wasn’t even longer now. As he started to fast walk down the busy sidewalk, something yanked him back by the neck and he came crashing down. Literally. He fell right back on his ass and when he looked up, this same crazy girl was looming over him like a mad woman. With his blue hand-knit wool scarf dangling from her grabby hands. The anger that had been simmering in Lance’s gut was at a full blown boil and he was just about ready to explode. So.. he kinda did..

Long and embarrassing story short, Lance yelled at her. He snatched his blue scarf out of her hands so fast, it scared her, and as he rubbed his most likely bruised tailbone, he got in her face and began blaming her for the world's most horrible fan interaction. He was so angry, that he balled his fists, stomped his foot and had veins protruding out of his neck and forehead. He called her names and most likely spit in her face, but he didn’t care. And when he was done, he took a step back and examined the girl in front of him. She was folded in on herself, holding her arms close to her body as her bottom lip quivered and fat, giant tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked so.. mortified. And actually.. scared of him. Like if Lance were to say anything or move a muscle, she’d flinch.

Seconds later, Lance’s face softened into something regretful and he went out to reach for her, to apologize. But, like he knew she would, she flinched. And then hurried away like he was a mad man. All the while crying and clutching her phone to her chest. Lance felt absolutely demolished inside. He tried to go after her but his feet were glued to the cement of the sidewalk. He didn’t even want his coffee anymore.

Thankfully, there were no viral videos or photos or posts about the incident. Lance ended up tracking the girl down a few days later and showered her with all the love he could muster, even taking as many pics as she wanted and liking them on Instagram when she tagged him. But.. something inside him still felt so horrible about the incident. For a moment, Lance had realized that he genuinely hurt that girl for no real reason. He just wanted some coffee but is coffee more important than the people who are thankful and want to show their gratitude for him for everything he did with voltron? If the roles were reversed and he stayed on earth, he would be bending over backwards to let all the paladins know just how thankful he was to live another day on their planet. That girl probably had family, friends, maybe a spouse and kids, and in the midst of that horrible battle 3 years ago, she most likely thought that one of those days would be her last with them.

It broke Lance’s heart thinking about it. He really hurt her. Sure, he made it right and she forgave him, but in that single moment, he actually hurt someone enough to make them cry, to make them run away from him. It was a terrible feeling. It wasn’t Lance. He never wanted that to happen again.

And at the same time.. he.. kinda never wanted to be the savior of earth. Not really.. he just wanted to feel like he had a place in the universe, and to know that he played an important role. That he mattered.

Guess he really matters now..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered..

The second he walked through the door, his phone rang. It was a three-way call with Hunk and Pidge. Lance pressed the green button to answer and placed the phone to his ear. Immediately, Hunk starts going on and on about how much he misses Lance and when the next time they’ll see each other will be. Lance smiled at his best friend’s inability to ever take a breath between sentences and replied with a warm ‘I miss you too, buddy.’ They got to catching up as Lance ordered his garlic knots and sat down at a private booth near the back of the place. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, especially when he got the call from his best friends.

Hunk tells him all the great things that’s been happening at the Garrison and even on the Atlas. He tells him how his restaurant is doing and how his family is doing and how Shay is doing. Pidge catches him up on things with her family, some new inventions she’s been working on, and how being the youngest teacher at the Garrison is going. Lance listens and gives his two cents on everything his friends tell him and honestly, he couldn’t be more happy for them. The way they were able to just get their lives together 3 years after the war is.. incredible. It made him think about everything he’s done since the war ended. Which wasn’t much.. he took over his family’s farm and brought it back to life, he helps out Colleen, Pidge’s mom, with medicine and finding cures to strange space illnesses with plants she has him grow on his farm, and his family’s market wouldn’t be as popular or swarming with business if he didn’t work there. Sad but true. And that’s really it. He hasn’t done much else. Nothing life changing or breathtaking like his friends.

But Hunk and Pidge don’t need to know that. So he simply replies with: “Oh, ya know.. same old, same old,” and hopes it works enough to keep the conversation flowing and follow up questions at bay. It does.

30 minutes into their conversation and Lance is starting to feel a little.. agitated. With the garlic knots consumed and digesting in his stomach, he sits in the booth, alone, listening to his friends go on and on and on about their perfect jobs and their perfect little lives. He gets lost a few times and at one point has literally no idea what they’re talking about. When he tries to ask what or who or even get the slightest details, Pidge lets out a sigh that Lance can’t help but feel like is out of annoyance. Lance sighs back and continues to stay silent because obviously he’s not getting anywhere. Why even bother putting him on a call that Hunk and Pidge could have just had on their own??

Balling his fist, Lance let out a loud, overdramatic sigh. He didn’t care if his friends heard it or how they took it. He was upset. The conversation between his two friends comes to a halt and then awkward silence. Pidge is the first to speak up with a:

“Something you wanna add, Lance?” The annoyance in her voice is very much there and Lance doesn’t miss it. He scoffs loudly and grits his teeth.

“No.” He says, voice deepening in anger.

“Oh really?” Pidge asks, poking the sleeping bear that lies dormant in lance. “Cause it sure sounds like it to me. Why don’t you stop being such a fucking child and tell us what’s bothering you this time??”

Lance damn near growls.

The line has gone quiet now. Hunk’s unsteady breathing is audible but other than that, silence. Lance digs his nails into the skin of his palms and tries to keep the angry tears in his eyes from falling down his cheeks. With a deep shaky breath, he smiles through the pain.

“You know what, Katie,” Lance spits and it makes Hunk gasp. “Fuck YOU and this stupid, shitty attitude you have all the time!”

“Oh, god..” Hunk winces.

“I don’t know what the actual fuck crawled up your ass,” Lance continues, “but I’m sick of it! I've been sick of it for years! I’m sick of keeping my mouth shut and quite frankly, I’m sick of YOU!”

Lance is standing up out of his seat now. His chest heaves up and down as the angry tears have fallen past his face and down his neck. His voice is two octaves deep from anger and the skin of his palm is bloody from how hard he’s digging his nails into it. The place has gone quiet now and Lance can feel multiple pairs of eyes on him. So much for not drawing any attention to himself.

The line is quiet. Then, the sound of a huff of breath. A small laugh.. And then:

“Wow. Nice one, McClain..” Pidge’s voice is small, but so full of something. “Go screw yourself, you asshole.”

The call ends. Whether Pidge or Hunk ended it, is unclear.

Minutes pass, and Lance is still standing in the same place with the phone to his ear. Tears are running down his face, and his Altean marks are buzzing so loud in his ears. His heart is pounding in his ribcage and ice cold sorrow runs through his veins..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered...

Now, exactly 3 months since that little incident, Lance sits alone in his home. In his childhood bedroom he can’t seem to rearrange because he’s still holding out hope that one day he’ll turn back time and be his child self and get a redo on his life. But hey, it’s better this way. After the whole dilemma with Pidge, Hunk tried to call Lance to help but ended up getting his feelings hurt. Yep. By Lance. Because Lance is a big jerk and can’t stop hurting everyone around him.

So he hasn’t talked to Pidge or Hunk since then. Mostly out of guilt and shame because those two are supposed to be his bestest friends and he hurt them. Nothing he could say or do could make up for his selfish mind and stupid mouth. Lance had this whole plan to go to Shiro about it, to get his advice so Lance could make it all better.

But Pidge being Pidge.. texted the whole thing in their group chat and.. well.. everyone saw it. Shiro, Hunk, Matt, even Keith possibly! It got so bad that Lance’s phone kept going off with alerts from everyone asking what happened and what he said. Curtis tried calling him and left a few messages. Shiro left him a long voicemail. And of course the word traveled so fast that it reached New Altea and Coran got involved. Which caused Romelle to be involved, too. She gossiped to Acxa, who told her girlfriend, who happens to be Lance’s sister, Veronica. Veronica blabbed to Rachel, who blabbed to Marco, who blabbed to Luis.. who blabbed to Lance’s dad.. WHO BLABBED TO LANCE’S MOM. And boy did she have some interesting words for him in the SEVEN, LONG voicemails asking exactly ‘what happened’and ‘why The Holt siblings were so angry with him.’

Everything escalated so fast. Lance can’t even remember what he said. Or why he said it. Since the war ended, it’s been so hard on him. Sure, it’s been hard on everyone, but for Lance it’s been different. Everyone looks up to him for some reason and expects him to do so good and be the hero they all think he is, when in reality? He was just a leg…

Exactly what did he gain from being a paladin of voltron anyway?? Get banged up and bruised almost everyday he was out there? Have people on his case, constantly reminding him how unimportant he was to the team? Pointing out all of his flaws and mistakes and focusing on those when there’s a million other good things he’s done that towers over all the bad shit?? Sure, he returned home to his family who he literally missed and cried for every single day, but he lost the love of his life in the process.

To put it all out there, Lance didn’t really gain anything. He got to travel through space, which was his dream since he was a little kid, and then space chewed him up and spit him out as some fake hero with PTSD and other trauma that will haunt him for the rest of his pathetic life.

So.. these past 3 months.

Lance has been sitting up in his childhood room.

Wishing he could use the power of Altea or something to turn back time.

And be his younger self.

His innocent self.

His happier self.

Back when he wasn’t so fucked up and had dreams and goals.

Back when everyone was proud of him.

Back to when he didn’t know who Allura was or that she even existed. Back to when Voltron didn’t exist either and everything was fucking fine.

Staring up at his ceiling, Lance counts the glow in the dark stars that he’s had up there since he was six years old. Somehow they’re still glowing and Lance is thankful for that because at 3 in the morning when the world is fast asleep and everything is pitch black, he could use the light.

It comforts him. Reminds him of a simpler, more happier time in his life.

Something sharp digs through Lance’s chest as he stares at those fake neon stars, and it hurts really bad. His breathing begins to quicken, matching the beat of his heart, and a lump finds its way up his throat. Tears pool in the rim of his eyes and spill down the corners, streaming down the sides of his face.

And they don’t stop. The stars get blurrier as Lance’s breathing gets heavier. His body begins to tremble with every hiccup of a sob that pours out of him and he’s crying so hard that his brain throbs in his head.

He curls in on himself in his bed and wraps his arms around his torso, crying uncontrollably into his space themed pillow. His Altean marks begin to buzz and glow and he can’t bring himself to care because all he wants to do is disappear.

Disappear from this game called life.

He types a text to Keith with teary eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

Message.. deleted…

As 3 in the morning turns to 4, a pod lands in the grass just a couple yards away from Lance’s farm. Boot covered feet step out of said pod and touch the wet grass waiting for them. It’s still dark out and the only light visible are the fireflies that buzz around a pair of cowboy booted feet. Those booted feet begin to walk, carrying a tall, broad, raven haired stranger up a hill to Lance’s home. The frogs and crickets seem to grow louder as the stranger in black cowboy boots makes their way to the front porch and pulls back the creaky screen door to a cold, locked doorknob. A set of keys are pulled out and a specific blue key is pushed inside the lock, turning and unlocking the door. The stranger walks in and is instantly met.. with..

Crying??

“H-Hello??” The stranger calls out. “Lance?”

The crying stops.

It’s dead quiet..

The door shuts on its own and the echo around the house is eery.

Light footsteps descend the stairs and before they know it, the stranger is being tackled to the ground in a bear hug.

“Ah-! Lance!?” They yell as the duffel bag from their hand falls to the ground.

“Keith!!” Lance yells out, voice rasped from endless crying.

Keith can immediately hear it and wraps his arms around Lance so tight, holding him close. His eyes glow yellow, something that usually happens out of fear, anger, or protectiveness, and his lips protrude to make way for his double set of fangs that are ready to bite any and everyone.

“Lance!” Keith tries to sit up but is pinned to the ground with all of Lance’s dead body weight. “Lance, honey, are you hurt? What’s wrong??”

A hand through curly brown locks and Lance’s crying dies down. He snuggles his face into Keith’s neck and hiccups through a response. Something too incoherent for Keith to make out, but he feels it has something to do with why he was told to go home ASAP.

A few weeks ago, Keith was contacted by Acxa via video chat. They talked and caught up for a few minutes before Acxa told Keith the real reason for her call. She explained that Veronica was having a tough time reaching out to Lance and that he might be in some kind of trouble. Not knowing the full extent of the story, Acxa only told Keith what she heard from Veronica and others. Fearing the worst, Keith packed up his shit and set a course for Earth as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, there were some setbacks on his way over where he had to make a few stops to tend to aliens in need because after all, that’s still his job as a blade member, but when that got finished, Keith hightailed it over. His Galra instincts wouldn't allow him to stay away for much longer anyway and having accepted his galra side a long time ago, it would have been best for everyone to let him go home.

Keith now lays in Lance’s bed, every inch of Lance’s body wrapped up around him like a snake. Keith strokes Lance’s hair soothingly and holds him close to his chest, right over his beating heart. A deep, soothing purr emits itself from Keith’s body and calms Lance’s nerves right down to the bone. Keith knows how much Lance adoreshis Galran features and at this point, Keith would do absolutely anything for Lance to feel better.

They talked about everything that happened and are now in the cuddle stage. Lance has his eyes shut, listening to Keith purr just for him. Long limbs wrapped around every inch of his boyfriend while Keith’s long nails scratch at his scalp, life is so good.

Life is so good with Keith around.

“So,” Keith says, voice as calm as ever. “What exactly did Pidge say?”

“Oh,” Lance answers, his voice quiet as a mouse. “You didn’t see the messages in the group chat?”

“No.” Keith shrugs, laying his cheek against Lance’s forehead. “Been kinda busy.. And I actually don’t understand how a group chat works.”

That rises a chuckle out of Lance as he sits up a bit to reach for his phone on the bedside dresser.

“Idiot,” he whispers with a small smile on his face and it makes Keith light up, his purring becoming a bit louder.

Lance lays back on Keith’s chest as he scrolls through the messages on his phone. When he finds the message from Pidge, Lance clears his scratchy throat and sniffs.

“From Pidgeotto,” he starts, looking at Pidge’s name in their ✨Paladudes✨ group chat. “Just an FYI lance is a.. a total fucking jackass and I am no longer friends with him..”

Keith immediately frowns at that.

Lance continues. “He can suck my big toe for all I care. I’m done with him. Have fun being a lonely loser @LanceyPants.”

“What the fuck?” Keith says, eyes glowing yellow in the dark room. “Why would she say that!?”

Lance shakes his head, tears forming in his eyes again. “Because she was right. I am a jackass..”

“Lance, no!” Keith sits up, bringing Lance with him. They sit side by side as Lance holds himself and looks down at his space blanket. He shrugs once and sniffs.

“Keith, stop,” he says, wiping a tear from his eye. “Look, I said some very hurtful things to her and she lashed out in a perfectly normal way..”

“Normal!?” Keith scoffs, grabbing Lance’s phone and rereading the message again. “Jackass? Loser?? Come on, Lance, she’s completely bullying you and you know it!”

Lance whips around with an angry expression on his face “Because I deserve it!”

The room grows quiet. Keith takes a deep breath and reaches over to grab Lance’s shoulders.

“Calm.” He says, taking a deep breath for Lance to mimic. Lance takes a deep breath with him and lets it out. Keith begins to purr again and it calms Lance even more.

“I.. Sorry..”

Keith nods. He reaches up to cup Lance’s cheek and rubs his thumb across Lance’s tear stained eye.

“You know I would never hurt anyone on purpose..” Lance sniffs. “That’s not who I am. I’m just.. I’m tired of being this symbol of everything strong and good and brave.”

“Mhm,” Keith rubs Lance’s back, leaning in closer to him to nuzzle his forehead. Lance nuzzles back and Keith’s purrs.

“I keep.. I keep hurting everyone I care about..” Lance whispers in a voice so low and fragile, it nearly shatters Keith’s heart.

“That’s not true.” Keith pulls back a little to look into Lance’s teary blue eyes. “Lance, you are the most incredible, selfless, honest person I’ve ever known. You are strong and good and brave even if you don’t mean to be. Or want to be.”

Lance pulls away and stares at his hands. Keith keeps his eyes focused on Lance.

“I know you think you hurt that fangirl from a few months ago.” Keith continues. “Or Pidge. Or Hunk. Or your parents or friend or family or whoever, but you could never hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, right,” Lance shakes his head. “I already did. I hurt everyone.”

“And even if that’s true,” Keith grabs Lance’s hands in his own, “which it’s not, you’re not doing it on purpose. You have a right to your own feelings! And you have a right to speak your mind.”

“And what if that hurts people??” Lance looks up and meets teary eyes to indigo ones. “What if I accidentally hurt my mama or my sisters or brothers, or nieces and nephews because I can’t be who they want me to be, who they think I am!?”

“Lance,” Keith shakes his head.

“What if I hurt you???” Lance’s eyes go wide. He looks Keith up and down and exhales a panicked breath. “God, Keith.. wh-what if I hurt you??”

“Oh, Lancey,” Keith sighs that lovey-dovey sigh where his eyes go all big and black like a cat’s, and the purr in his chest gets louder. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever.”

Lance stares into Keith’s eyes like they’re his lifeline.

“B-but.. but what if-?”

“No more what if’s!” Keith cuts Lance off by covering his mouth with his hand. “Listen to me, Lance. Are you listening??”

Lance nods repeatedly.

“Good,” Keith smiles, all crooked and cute and beautiful. “The only person you ever need to worry about hurting is yourself.”

And there it is. The one thing Lance has been dying to hear without knowing he’d been dying to hear it. It’s like a breath of fresh air, or cool rain on a hot and sweaty day. The permission he needed but didn’t really need. He has a right to care about himself and put himself first but whenever he tries, the guilt eats him alive. Why should he care about himself when he has to care more about others???

No. That’s not the case. It’s never been the case.

“You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself,” Keith finishes, stroking the endless sea of tears that are falling from Lance’s eyes. He strokes Lance’s glowing Altean marks and leans forward to kiss one softly. Lance trembles slightly, closing his eyes to bask in the moment.

“I’m sure Pidge has gotten over it by now,” Keith reassures. “She just has too much pride to make the first more and apologize. You know how she is.”

“Y-Yeah,” Lance hiccups, nodding.

“And Hunk?” Keith scoffs. “I bet your mailbox is full of letters from him, explaining how sorry he is and hoping you’re doing alright. You know if he can’t reach you from your phone, he has other ways.”

That makes Lance smile.

“There’s probably cookies on the way right now.” He looks into Keith’s eyes, exhaling a small laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” Keith agrees, laughing that angelic laugh and showing off his perfect pearly fangs. Lance’s heart skips a fucking beat.

“And your fangirl?” Keith’s purring stops. “Well, she never should have gotten all up in your space that’s for sure. You had every right to punch her.”

“Keith!” Lance squeaks, face contorting into shock and confusion. “I-I didn’t punch her!”

“Really?” Confusion etches itself all over Keith’s features and he puts a finger to his chin. “I could have sworn I read that in your text.”

“No way, man!” Lance defends, waving his arms around. “Why would I ever in my life-!” He stops mid sentence to see the shit-eating grin plastered on Keith’s face.

“Just kiddin, lil lady,” Keith says in his best southern accent, smiling big and wide.

Lance bursts out into a fit of laughter, hitting Keith’s chest and arms and back. Keith shields himself and laughs, grabbing Lance’s arms and bringing him down onto the mattress. They fall back with Keith looming over Lance, his long raven hair surrounding their faces.

Lance stares up into those beautiful, indigo eyes and sniffs, unable to look away. He reaches up and cups Keith’s face, rubbing his thumb over Keith’s Galran stripe.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Keith asks in his softest voice, eyes roaming from Lance’s teary blue eyes to his luscious lips.

“Yes,” Lance nods, not even bothering to blink because if he does, he’ll miss Keith’s everything.

“Don’t let anyone get you down, my sweetheart.” Keith whispers, leaning in closer. “Ever.”

Lance nods.

“And if they do,” Keith’s face turns serious, indigo eyes going dark. “I’ll bite their throats out and hand them to you on a silver platter.”

“Keith,” Lance exhales, going red in the face and ears. “Holy shit, you can’t just say things l-like that.”

Keith’s hard demeanor falls as he giggles and leans in close. Before they close the gap between their lips, Lance whispers, “And hey. I thought pet names were my thing?”

And Keith kisses him to shut him up.

They kiss like they haven’t seen each other in years and it’s the greatest Lance has ever felt. Keith kisses like he’s starving for it, craving it so much more than air and it’s hot and powerful and so, so damn good.

Lance wraps his arms and legs around Keith’s body and kisses him back with fervor. He allows Keith to make him feel better, and kisses his pain away. Keith pulls away slowly, licking into Lance’s mouth before he does so. Lance lets out a small groan and smiles before he opens his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers, tucking some hair behind Keith’s ear.

“I love you, more,” Keith whispers back, settling himself between Lance’s legs. “Feeling any better?”

“A little,” Lance looks away, sniffling a little. His eyes focus back to Keith’s and a small smile appears on his kiss swollen lips. “But I know a great way you can make me feel all the way better.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keith smirks, burying his face into Lance neck to start kissing slowly. “And what’s that?”

Lance giggles like a little kid, running his hands up and down Keith’s sides. When Keith pulls back, he trails his kisses up the side of Lance’s face and stops at his Altean mark.

“Make love to me,” Lance whispers, rubbing his nose against Keith’s. “Touch me all over and hold me until the sun comes up and just.. love me. Please..”

Keith’s face softens into something full of love and adoration. He moves forward to peck Lance’s lips, then his chin, and then his other Altean mark.

“Anything you want, my sweet..” he kisses Lance’s cheek. “Beautiful..” he kisses Lance’s jaw. “Amazing.. wonderful..”

“Alright, enough!” Lance laughs, slapping Keith in the back. His cheeks are on fire as he closes his eyes when Keith starts nibbling on his neck with his fangs. A chill runs down Lance’s spine and tingles to his toes, making them curl.

Keith sits up one last time and stares at Lance like he’s the world.

“I’ll take good care of you, baby.” He says with the utmost truth in his sultry voice. “I promise. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah,” Lance nods, letting his tears fall down his face and glowing Altean marks. “Together.”

And as Keith kisses Lance so lovingly, Lance can’t help but be glad that he can’t turn back time to be his younger self. Because with Keith around, he feels all the happiness in the whole world just like he did when he was young.

-END-

(send me a klangst prompt)

#klance #lance mcclain #lance #lance (voltron) #keith kogane #keith #keith (voltron) #lance and keith #keith/lance #voltron #raes klangst prompts #klangst prompts #klangst prompt 6 #klangst #langst #angst #writing #hurt and comfort #damnlance #raeasks #damnlancewrites #nsfw-ish

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: heavy drinking, someones arm gets broken, also some very vague mentions of a shootout, reader is in denial about being in denial (so the usual pretty much)

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

You thought it would just be one coffee. One simple mistake as a result of you being extra tired, or something like that. You’d give it to him, hear his stupid little remark meant to rile you up, and then it’d be done - it would never happen again. 

Here’s the thing, though: you kept making more. After that day, every morning when you woke up, you’d grab two coffee mugs and make one for the both of you - yours with extra cream, his straight black. You knew he liked to add a shot of whiskey to his, even though you pretended not to notice when he not-so-discreetly pulled his flask out. Whatever he needed to get through the day, you shrugged, watching him out of the corner of your eye. You certainly weren’t about to judge him for his drinking habits in light of your own less than stellar track record. 

Neither of you dared to mention it so far. You hoped to high heaven that he wouldn’t: his little tease on that first day was barely enough to get under your skin though it had stuck to the back of your mind every morning you woke up. You’re not getting soft on him, are you?

Shaking your head furiously, you let out a low frustrated sigh as you moved to reach out for the bottle of wine next to you once more, flicking off the top and pouring almost a good half of the bottle’s contents into your glass. It was a Wednesday night but you didn’t much care - if the hangover was that bad the next morning, and it never usually was with a shiraz, you’d get some painkillers and get on with your day. The same thought as before repeated itself in your mind again, doing nothing short of vexing you further. Partially because you were worried it was true. Maybe you were getting soft on him. Maybe you weren’t as strong and stubborn as you thought if Jack Daniels had managed to worm his way back into your heart.

No. That couldn’t be it. You tossed your head back and indulged yourself in a rather large gulp of wine, letting the liquid rush down your throat in a desperate attempt to dilute the pitiful nonsense that had filled your head. What a ridiculous thought. You weren’t falling for Jack Daniels charm once more. No, you simply wouldn’t do that. You knew better than that. You knew that underneath that smooth facade was a flitting and emotionally unavailable man, the man who had broken your heart and made you suffer for what felt like evermore. You may have felt pity on him for his fall from grace, but anyone else would if they saw the state of him. Discarding the glass off to the side, you wanted to laugh at the simple absurdity of such an idea. Are you always this stupid with a wine-addled brain? 

Speaking of the devil, you heard his footsteps from up the stairs, taking you by surprise as you were certain that he was asleep by now. You crocked your head to the side, your eyes travelling up the stairwell to the small part of the landing that was in your immediate vision - you couldn’t catch a single sight of him. Shrugging to yourself, you returned to your almost empty glass of wine, feeling that familiar haze descend over your brain with every sip you took. This was fine. You could let yourself be swallowed by the alcohol, maybe even enjoy the fact that your nerves were loosened for just this once. If it could take all that shit away, then you’d gladly let it. And as for Jack? You’d continue on as you were: barely acknowledging his existence, and regarding him as nothing more than a ghost from your past. That’s what you wanted, right?

You’re lying to yourself and you know it.

Blinking your eyes rapidly, you stared out into the space in front of you, your mind lost a million miles away while you were in complete and utter astonishment over those few words that had crossed your mind. Things were quiet, still, even peaceful in a way, only for a second anyhow. That was before the rush came, that incensed anger that flashed across your mind for barely a moment, settling down into something resembling vague annoyance, directed at none other than yourself. Where the hell did that come from? For god's sake, get a grip on yourself. Standing up abruptly, you didn’t even stumble as you advanced back over to the liquor cabinet, dropping to your knees and scanning the tops of the glistening glass bottles under the dim lamp light. Your eyes landed on the bourbon you had stashed at the back and you reached out for it, carefully lifting it above all the others despite your intoxicated state. Resting the bottle against the palm of your hand, you let your fingers trace the grooves in the molded glass, a small bit of hesitation working its way into your mind, hesitation that was swiftly kicked aside in favour of that pesky little buzz that danced around the back of your head, that stupid little crumb of self doubt that refused to fucking leave. 

Guess I’m gonna need a bottle of something stronger to kick this shit. 

___

He didn’t know why he kept watching you. You weren’t doing anything particularly notable - you’d decided to take one of the horses out for a ride, practicing vaulting and the like. He remembered you’d once told him that as a young kid that you’d entered a number of equestrian competitions, and even won a few - he’d seen the trophies gathering dust on the mantle and the cute photos of you posing with your chosen horse, Buttercup, as a child. You explained years ago that you’d stopped participating in competitions but still liked to take the horses out for a spin every once in a while as a way to relax and clear your head. As he watched you now, he could already see the stressors of the day melting away from your visage, leaving only a steely focused expression in its wake as you cleared another jump. 

It was the first time in weeks he’d seen you truly relaxed at all, or showing any sort of emotion other than your usual show of cheerfulness you splashed on for the customers, woven with a current of underlying stress and irritation. Seeing you like this couldn’t help but remind him of better times: you’d taken him out on the horses more than a couple of times when the two of you were together. Jack had always labelled himself as something of an animal lover, ever since he was a kid. He didn’t, and hadn’t, had any pets for a good ten years now though at some point long ago he wanted something similar to what you had - a nice ranch situated out in his home state of Kentucky with a bunch of animals and his family. That dream had seemed so close to him once that he could have sworn it would be a reality yet fate wasn’t so kind to him in that regard. The memory of it all alone hadn’t ceased to become any less painful to him: seeing the broadcast on the news of a shootout down at a local convenience store only to get the call moments later confirming what he’d already feared to have happened most. 

Not a day passed where he didn’t wish he could go back to a time before that day, where even the simple idea of having a family didn’t seem so foreign and unattainable. He felt himself grip onto the wooden bar of the veranda just a tad bit tighter the longer his thoughts fixated on it, though the sound of a piercing shriek immediately brought his attention back to you, his eyes darting around in a frenzy, determined to know what had caused you to cry out in agonising pain. Upon seeing your body lain flat on the ground he rushed forward, vaulting himself over the edge of the varanda and calling out your name. “Are you alright, sugar?” he shouted, throwing open the gate to the ring and racing over towards where you were lying. The faint sounds of you whimpering did nothing short of send him into panic mode, seeing how much it hurt you to move only adding to his worry. “I’m fine, I just...the dumb horse got spooked by something and bucked me off” you groaned, struggling to pull yourself up, leading you to let out another loud yelp when you tried to move your left arm.

Swooping in to catch you before you fell, Jack gently reached for your arm and pulled it towards him, his eyes widening the moment he caught sight of the horrific fracture done to it. “Darlin’, don’t lie to me, you’re not fine. Arms are not meant to look like this!” he stressed, studying your eyes intensely, trying to gauge if you had some sort of a concussion. They were slightly glazed over, and your gaze kept wandering from him as if you were having trouble focusing. “How’s your head feelin’, sweetheart?”. 

“Kinda dazed. Hurts like a bitch as well” you grumbled, leaning your head against his shoulder slightly. Every bone in your body felt like it was screaming at you like some sort of symphony, the pain in your arm being the worst of all. Your vision had also become slightly blurry and kept splitting double every few seconds, only contributing to your general haziness. Your thoughts were running a mile a minute, scattered around your brain and refusing to slow down. Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and up into Jack’s arms, your head lolling slightly against his forearm as he carried you back up to the house. Running through your memory, you couldn’t really remember what had happened fully: you had just made another jump and were circling around the ring to gain speed for another when suddenly you were on the ground and your horse, Molly, was a few feet ahead of you. 

Jack brought you up to the varanda and laid you down on the bench, grabbing one of the old decorative throw pillows you had to rest your head on.“Stay here for a moment, I’m gonna get you some ice, then I’m gonna call an ambulance and get ya to an emergency room” he instructed before ducking back inside the house.

“Is that really necessary, Jack?” you shouted out after him, leading him to stick his head back out the door to look at you incredulously. “Sweetheart, your arm is broken and you're clearly concussed. I think the situation more than calls for it” he replied with a deadpan tone, disappearing back into your house to find you some ice. Resting your head back against the pillows, you turned to see Molly trotting around near the edge of the fenceline, acting as if she hadn’t just thrown you off her back for no apparent reason at all. 

“Yeah, just had to buck me off, didn’t ya? Thanks asshole!” you shouted out, doing your best to ignore the persistent throbbing in the side of your head and the dull ache from where your arm was rested. Thankfully, partially due to the concussion probably, it didn’t feel as bad as before, though at the same time you could have just simply become more tolerant of the pain. Not to say it didn’t still hurt like literal hell or that it was any less easy to take notice of. 

“Honeybee, I get you’re in pain but yelling at the horse isn’t doing anything” you heard Jack say to you as he made his entrance once more, holding a tea towel containing several large blocks of ice in his hand. Muttering out a small ‘thank you’, you took the towel in your hands and pressed it against the swell of your arm, letting out a small hiss the second you felt the sharp sting of the cold on your skin. “I know yelling at the horse does nothing, but it’s making me feel better” you grumbled. 

“Is it? Is it really?” Jack scoffed, subsequently choosing to ignore the sharp death glare you gave him after his flippant remark. “I’ve called an ambulance, they’ll be here to get you to a proper hospital in no time. You really had me worried there when I heard you scream”.

“Oh, so you do care about me after all” you jeered, your signature sarcastic edge seeping through your tone. You shifted slightly to try to position yourself up a little more so that you could face him properly yet as you moved a heavy sting of pain shot through you, causing you to yelp out a little and tense up in response. As if it were instinctual to him, Jack moved towards you and helped you settle back down. “Try not to move too much until the ambulance gets here” he directed. You didn’t know if it was your imagination or not, but you could have sworn his hand lingered on your forehead a second longer than it should have, his fingertips brushing against your skin and leaving a burning sensation in their wake, something that, shamefully so, made your heart skip a small beat. “Now, about me not caring - sugar, when are you gonna accept that no matter what happened between us that I still care about you as a person?” he asked. Shoving those thoughts to the back of your mind, you settled on glaring back at him with a quick witted quip to combat him, because that’s all he was to you: an annoyance, a nuisance, a royal pain in the ass. You were doing him a favour by letting him stay with you. There was nothing more to this.

“Try never, asshole” you snapped, one note harsher than you originally intended. As usual whenever you bit back at his banter, Jack shrugged and rested back into the wall he was standing against. For once, though, you felt bad at snapping at him like that - there wasn’t any need for it, he was only trying to help. Not knowing if you could fully coax the words ‘I’m sorry’ from your mouth, you settled on something less apologetic but still sort of the message across. “But...really, thank you. For, y’know, helping me out here” . 

Jack looked at you for a moment, somewhat taken aback at what you’d said before he softened a bit.“Of course, sugar. Call it returning the favour for taking care of me a couple of weeks back” he answered, giving you that sweet smile of his that hadn’t managed to unweave itself from those old memories. And for once, you allowed yourself to smile weakly in return.

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #cross my heart #Kingsman #Kingsman: the golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #Pedro Pascal

[nekoannie-chan]

Past: introduction

Pairing: Steve Rogers X OFC(Colleen White).

Word count: 282 words.

Summary: No one will let her forget her past and they will continue to condemn her for what she did, and they don’t care that she has changed.

Warnings: None at this moment.

A/N: This is my entry to @the-siren-writes-it ’s Karie’s 500 Followers ‘Break my heart’ Challenge with the song prompt #21:

“Big girls don’t cry (Personal)-Fergie.”

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake, please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Main masterlist.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78  @saiyanprincessswanie @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid

She saw the clock, Ross' words kept rumbling in her head... he had threatened her, however, she wasn’t guilty of her past, she had not been able to choose at that time and now... she can’t choose again. Both Ross and Tony told her that she should sign or go to the Raft or the Garland centre, neither of the two places was an option, it would be like continuing to live in the hell in which s

he found himself most of her life so she had no choice she was on Steve's side, but the most difficult thing was he could understand what’s happening.

In front of the dressing table, she brushed her hair while continuing to think about everything that had happened throughout her life, for less than three years she was finally free to make decisions for herself.  

Steve walked into the room and kiss her shoulder, she held her breath for a few seconds.

 “Have you already read the Accords? “Steve asked, she nodded “. Have you already decided what to do?

Again, the words of those men appeared in her mind.

“I...,” her lower lip trembled before she could say anything else “... I'll sign,” she felt

her voice falter, Steve looked at her in disbelief and turned around. “Steve, can you hea...”

However, he had already left the room before she could express everything she felt and thought.

 2014

 She sighed as she put on her gloves, the Commander had asked for her presence and that of the Soldier for the mission, which she had a bad feeling.

That day had been one of those days when everything was very blurry, again nightmares had appeared.

#break my heart challenge #breakmyheartchallenge #steve rogers x ofc

[p5youllneverseeitcoming]

Mwahahaha >:D Thanks to the S/O’s traumatic fear of hospitals post I now have an idea! As a sequel to it, can I get Headcanons where Akira and Akechi get critically injured (from Metaverse or an accident I dunno) & they have their own death experiences while in the hospital/ER (they survive thanks to the promises they made with their S/O but still) and their worried S/O visits?

*Casually posts this at 3am* I return from the Super Mega Hell I call transcribing interviews to bring you this

Also… Uh very minor Royal spoilers I guess? In Royal there’s a chance that Mementos is completely dark when you go to one floor but that’s it

As for Akechi’s part… Spoilers for the seventh palace (for vanilla P5) so just incase anyone here is not up to this part I put his part under the cut!

Akira Kurusu & Goro Akechi getting injured and having a near death experience with a S/O who is scared of hospitals for that exact reason

Akira Kurusu:

> Everything was going rather smoothly

> You were in Mementos, taking care of a few requests

> But eventually, you got to a floor that was particularly confusing… And completely pitch black

> “Um Joker? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this broken wall like three times already.” Skull said as he pressed his face against the window 

> “Did I make a wrong turn? No but… I went right and…” Joker muttered to himself as he mentally tried to recall the path he took

> “Should we go back to where we were?” You asked as you squinted trying to see anything in the darkness

> “I’m not exactly opposed to that idea but um, where exactly would that be?” Asked Fox

> “Navi, can you see anything?” Noir asked as she turned to the hacker

> The girl opened her mouth to answer only to be cut off by something no one wanted to hear

> Rattling chains

> “That doesn’t sound good…” Crow said as he leaned forward to grip the driver seat

> “Joker we have to-” Mona began to say

> He didn’t get a chance to finish however as moments later, the Mona car was knocked over causing the Thieves to scream in fear and tumble out

> “Do we even stand a chance?” You asked as you gripped your weapon and looked at the Shadow before you

> The Reaper was… Well, terrifying

> “We don’t really have much of a choice.” Crow replied as he raised his saber

> “Get ready everyone!” Joker called as he rushed towards the Shadow

> You were hitting it with everything you had

> Magic, melee attacks, guns… Even Almighty attacks

> But it seemed like that was barely effecting him

> And what’s worse, you were running out of items

> “Joker…” You say as you turn to him

> Everyone is exhausted, all of you are breathing heavily, trying your best just to stay conscious

> You watch Joker, the leader, your boyfriend, lets out a shaky breath as he turns to Mona

> “Mona… Turn into the car and… Please… Get them out of here.”

> “’Them’? Wait, Joker you don’t-”

> “Please.”

> “No, Joker, you can’t be ser-”

> “I leave you in charge of driving, [Code name].” He says before turning back to the Shadow and aiming his gun at it

> “Wait!-”

> “See you at the entrance.” He says with a smile as he fires a couple of times before turning and sprinting in the opposite direction of the Thieves

> “We- I- We have to-” You stutter out as you turn to try and run after him but then you feel someone’s hand on your shoulder

> “Joker gave you a task to do didn’t he?” Crow says as he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze

> “But…” You say, tears making your vision blurry

> “Come now, this is Joker we’re talking about, I’m sure he meant what he said.”

> You sniffle quietly before nodding

> “You’re r-right.. Let’s go, everyone.”

~~~

> It’s silent on the way back

> You glance over at Crow who is sitting in the passenger seat and notice that his expression is a lot more… Different than usual

> You’re used to seeing his signature polite yet charming smile but this time he looks…

> Scared.

> Does that mean?…

> No, don’t think like that. This is Joker we’re talking about. I mean… This man runs across rooftops without the slightest care there’s no way he could be defeated…

> Right?

> After a bit more driving you eventually manage to reach the first floor

> But instead of going up the last platform you stop, just right before it 

> “Hm? [Code name]?” Queen says as she leans forward a bit

> “I- I want to wait for him.” You say, trying your best to keep your voice from shaking

> You can almost feel everyone turn to look at you but instead of saying anything else you just grip the wheel a bit tighter

> “… Okay.” Crow says after what feels like ages, “let’s wait five minutes and then go up, alright?”

> You nod and bite your lip

> You can’t cry right now, because Joker is fine, and if Joker is fine, then there’s no need to cry

> You repeat these words over and over like a mantra but…

> … Five minutes pass, and Joker is nowhere to be seen.

> You let out a shaky exhale as you grip the wheel once more

> “We-” you begin as you shut your eyes “we have to go up.”

> No one says anything, but it doesn’t matter

> You know everyone’s thinking the same thing.

> You watch as the other Thieves slowly climb out of the Mona car, supporting any of the members that can’t quite find the strength to stand anymore

> Once you’re all out, Mona quickly turns back into his usual form and quickly walks up to you

> “[Code name], let’s go.” He says tugging at your outfit lightly 

> You give a quick nod before finally climbing up the stairs

> You’re exhausted and you wish for nothing more than to collapse on your bed and sleep for about a week

> But what you see as soon as you climb the final step makes you instantly break out into a sprint

> Leaning against the wall is… Joker

> His clothes are torn and there’s blood everywhere but he’s really there

> He’s alive

> “Hey, what took you so lo-” He says before you knock the air out of his lungs as you collide into him

> “Oh my God.” You mutter into his chest as you wrap your arms around him tightly

> You hear him hiss which can’t mean anything good but you feel one of his hands slowly rise until its settled on your back

> “Joker! Y-you made it!” Skull shouts as he hobbles as quickly as he can towards you

> “Oh my, you look horrible!” Noir exclaims as she quickly glances at him

> “We need to get him medical help, now.” Crow says as he glances towards the entrance

> “Yes, um, what’s the quickest way to get to the hospital again…” Queen mutters more to herself than anyone else

> “Come on guys…” Joker begins, his voice a lot quieter than before, “I’m fi…” 

> He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, instead he just slumps forward causing you to stumble as you try to keep the two of you upright

> “Oh no, Akira! Akira wake up!” You shout as you shake him slightly

~~~

> When he opens his eyes again, he finds himself in a dark room

> He groans quietly as he turns his head to try and get a better understanding of his surroundings

> Upon closer inspection, he notices that this isn’t just a ‘dark room’, it’s a prison cell

> Or to be more exact, his prison cell

> Wait then that means that I’m…

> “How did I end up here?” He mutters as he slowly sits up and stares at the all too familiar bars

> “Hm? Oh my,”

> “So you finally woke up huh, Inmate?!”

> Akira watches as the twin wardens turn and face him at the same time

> “How did I get here?” He asked

> Instead of an answer, Akira just hears a deep chuckle

> “This place exists between mind and matter… I believe this should be enough to answer your question.”

> It really isn’t but okay

> “Don’t look at our Master with such a dumb expression Inmate!” Caroline says as she slams the bars with her baton

> “Caroline, I don’t believe this was his intention.” Justine says with her usual calm voice “I suppose he is simply confused.”

> “… Am I dead?” Akira asks turning his head towards Justine

> “Not exactly.” She answers as she glances at her clipboard

> “It seems you’re too stubborn to die, maybe you do have potential after all.” Caroline adds as a small smile appears on her lips

> “Your friends also seem very determined to keep you alive, they’re the reason why you woke up.” Justine says

> “My friends?” Akira asks 

> “They practically dragged you to the nearest hospital! You should thank them for all their efforts!” Caroline says with an angry expression

> “Yes, it seems the bond you share is truly something special.” Justine says with a polite smile

> “Yeah, so stop wasting time and wake up already!” Caroline says before slamming the bars with the baton once more

~~~

> Once again, Akira finds himself opening his eyes

> Only this time, he’s staring at a white ceiling as opposed to a dark prison cell

> Also this time instead of the sound of water dripping, he hears beeps

> Turning his head to confirm his suspicions, he finds a monitor showing his heartrate

> Huh, so he really is in a hospital

> “Akira?”

> “[Name]?”

> He tries to turn his head back but before he can you’re already leaning over him

> ��I was so worried… You- You collapsed so I- I tried to wake you up but you…” You practically sob these words out

> “Hey, hey [Name] it’s okay, take a deep breath and try to calm down okay?” Akira says as he raises a hand up to your cheek

> You hate hospitals, he knows that

> Yet here you are, right by his side

> He must’ve made you really worried if you managed to conquer one of your greatest fears

> He makes a mental note of how he will have to make this up to you once he gets out 

> “You stopped breathing Akira.” You cry out as tears make their way down your cheeks

> Oh God, how does he even respond to something like that?

> “… I did?”

> Wow, congratulations dumbass.

> “Yes! I- We- Doctor Takemi… Oh God…” 

> “[Name], [Name], hey, it’s okay, breathe with me okay? Come on, deep breath in…” Akira says before taking a deep breath

> You let out a few more sobs before trying your best to copy him

> Once you do, he smiles softly and deeply breathes out, hoping you will do the same

> The two of you continue this for a while, and eventually you manage to calm down

> “Good, it’s okay now [Name], I’m okay.”

> “Please don’t… Don’t ever do that again.”

> He nods as he strokes your cheek again

> “I promise.”

Goro Akechi:

> “Long time no see” Crow says to the group before his eyes land on you

> You couldn’t help but look away

> This wasn’t how it was meant to be

> You knew what he was planning, but you always thought hoped that you would be able to change his mind

> You quietly listen as Crow talks to the group and clench your fist when he tells you about Shido being his father 

> Panther gives you a quick worried glance but you just raise your head and look directly at Crow

> “Why? Why must you be against us? We- We could’ve-”

> “Let’s finish this.” Joker says cutting you off

~~~

> It doesn’t take long for you to defeat the enemies 

> “Goro…” You mutter quietly as you raise your hand slightly

> But then, something you never expected happens

> You watch as that mysterious persona, who you now know as Loki, appears once more and transforms Crow’s pristine white outfit into a dark blue and black costume, the small red cape turning into a ripped up black fabric and his pure white gloves turning black with talon like fingertips

> “You’re going down… I’ll destroy you…. Go down with me!” Crow shouts as more of the red mist surrounds him

> “That bastard, he made himself go psychotic!” Skull says reaching for his weapon

> “No…” You say as you stare in disbelief

> “[Codename] I know this is hard for you but you need to focus right now. You can’t let him win.” Queen says as she places a hand on your shoulder

> You take a shaky breath and nod

> She’s right. You can’t lose here, you need to snap some sense back into him afterall

~~~

> “Change Shido’s heart… In my stead… End his crimes… Please!…”

> “Leave it to me.” Joker answers staring at the partition

> “We can’t…” You begin as you look from one Thief to another

> “Isn’t there some way to get this open?!” Panther says as she glances at Mona

> That’s when you hear the gunshots

> You can’t help but cry out in shock, one hand flying up to cover your mouth

> You realise the others are talking but you just stare at the partiton, tears flowing down your cheeks

> You don’t move, at least not until Fox physically has to drag you away from the partition

> You don’t really know how long the group has been walking to reach the exit, but then again, you don’t really care about that

> You’re still crying when you return to the real world, only this time there’s no mask to hide your tears

> Your face feels hot, and your head hurts which must mean you look like an absolute wreck right now

> Once again, you notice the Thieves are talking but you don’t listen

> After a couple of minutes, you notice that some of the members are slowly shuffling away and heading off in different directions

> Soon enough, it’s just you and Akira left

> “[F/n].” Akira says, as he turns to look at you “I’ll walk you home, okay?”

> You shake your head at that, mentally cursing at the shooting pain you feel moment after

> “… Here…” You practically choke out

> “Huh? I’m sorry I-”

> “I’m staying… Here…” You repeat, hand vaguely gesturing at the Diet Building

> Akira looks at you for a solid minute before nodding a few times

> “Okay… But [F/n]-”

> “I’ll go home… Later.” You say cutting him off 

> “Right.” He replies as he turn to walk towards the station “I’m sorry.”

> You listen to his footsteps for a little while, but then… There is silence.

> You’re pretty sure you’re out of tears by now, so you decide to wipe your face with both hands

> You need to calm down, crying won’t solve this

> You take a few minutes to just breathe and eventually, you feel yourself shaking a lot less

> Why did this have to happen?

> No, asking this is pointless now

> You look at the Diet Building once more and bite your lip

> Before you can fully comprehend what you’re doing, you find yourself marching towards it

> You really wish your weapon wasn’t just a plastic imitation in the real world

> Then again, what could you possibly do?

> Maybe you could-

> “Hm?” You hum to yourself as you take a closer look at the wall

> Due to it being early evening, there isn’t much natural light left but you’re pretty sure there’s something smeared on the wall

> Not only that, it seems almost like… There’s some sort of trail?

>… Wait, is that?

> You cautiously touch it with your finger before bringing it back for closer examination

> T-This is…!

> Before you can fully process why there’s blood on the wall you hear the nearby bushes rustle

> You move one hand close to your bag ready to pull out your plastic weapon as you take a few steps closer

> “Who’s there?” You ask

> “Don’t be… Stu-” The voice begins before coughing violently

> “G-Go…”

> “Mm…”

> You quickly drop your bag and use your hands to carefully move away the leaves

> Sure enough, there’s the Detective Prince, Goro Akechi, your boyfriend, lying in a small pool of his own blood

> “How- No, wait- Erm- Hospital.” You sayas you quickly move one hand towards your pocket to retrieve your phone

> “Heh…” Akechi coughs out as a small smile appears on his lips

~~~

> You were pacing the hospital hall back and forth for hours

> Despite your constant pleading, the doctors told you that you can’t be in the room

> Your hands are constantly fidgeting and the amount of times you bit your lip caused you to draw a bit of blood

> You hate this place, you would much rather be anywhere but here…

> But you can’t leave him. You won’t leave him.

> “[L/n] - san?” 

> You look up at the sound of your name 

> “Yes?” You ask as your eyes land on the doctor

> “You can go see him now, but…”

> “But what?” You ask as your eyes widen 

> “He’s in a coma.”

> You nod and give a quick thanks before walking into the room

> Your hands are shaking again

> Calm down [F/n], just breathe

> You take a deep breathand slowly step towards his bed

> Goro is wrapped in so many bandages but he’s alive

> “Goro…” You whisper as you gently stroke one of his hands “you absolute fool…”

> You stay with him until visiting hours are over

> But you return the next day

> And the day after

> It’s not until the 3rd day that he actually wakes up

> The first thing he does when he wakes up is raise one hand slightly and flex his fingers

> “Hm.” He hums looking at his hand

> “Oh my God… Goro, how are you-”

> “Terrible.” He says with an annoyed expression

> “I thought you… You know…” You say as you turn to fully look at him

> “I almost did.” He answers, a hint of sadness in his voice 

> There’s a moment of silence before he speaks up again

> “It was… A strange experience.”

> “Huh? How so?”

> He coughs before answering

> “I’m not sure how to explain it,” he says before clearing his throat “I saw… A blue room?” 

> You frown at him, clearly confused

> “Don’t look at me like that… I told you I don’t know how to describe it.” He says, his eyes scanning your face

> “Ah, um, sorry.”

> “You know, I can’t say for sure but… I thought I heard your voice in there.”

> “Hm?.. Wh- What did it say?”

> “You said I’m too stubborn to die, especially in that asshole’s Palace, plus, I heard you crying.”

> You let out a small laugh at that

> “Well, it’s not wrong.”

> “There’s no need to cry over me. I told you, I’m not wanted, I’m a backstabber, a traitor.”

> You click your tounge at that as you reach for both of his hands and squeeze them lightly

> “That’s wrong. You may have betrayed the Phantom Thieves but you are wanted. I want to be with you.”

> “[F/n]…”

> “I… I can’t say I forgive you for what you did, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to abandon you!”

> Goro doesn’t answer

> Instead, he just squeezes back

#p5 #persona 5 #p5 imagines #persona 5 imagines #joker #akira kurusu #kurusu akira #crow #akechi goro #goro akechi #skull #ryuji sakamoto #sakamoto ryuji #fox #yusuke kitagawa #kitagawa yusuke #noir #haru okumura #okumura haru #mona #morgana #queen #makoto niijima #niijima makoto #navi #oracle #futaba sakura #sakura futaba

[comic-book-jawns]

Third Time’s The Charm

1) Inviting Jamie to sleep over had been questionable.

Not that it was the first time. Just the first time since she’d broken up with Eddie and run away for the summer — well, worked at a sleep-away camp. But she couldn’t deny that Eddie wasn’t the only person she’d been avoiding. Not that she’d cut off contact with Jamie completely. In fact, she’d used all of her weekly calls to talk to her best friend... and written her weekly letters, none of which she’d sent.

2) Breaking into her mother’s wine supply had been ill-advised.

Her mother, who she had yet to see. Not that she’d been expecting a red carpet reception when she’d arrived home earlier today. But maybe... a reception? It’s not like 8 on a Friday night was a unreasonable hour.

Really it had been for the best, though.

Dani no longer had to feel guilty for not speaking to Karen in over two months — since stopping for gas and using a payphone to let her mother know she was almost at camp (“He won’t wait for you, Danielle. And then you’ll be starting senior year without a boyfriend. Is that what you want?”) — and she had the house to herself.

She hadn’t even had to call Jamie to invite her over because Jamie, who’d known her for not even a year yet, had already been waiting on her doorstep when she’d pulled into the driveway. With a bouquet, no less. And that crooked smile that always made Dani’s heart melt. And a tan that Dani had... not anticipated. Which was comical, considering...

“Hydrangeas. Mrs. Harrison said I could have some, so.”

Jamie had spent her summer working around town as a landscaper. (“Glorified waterin’ can, more like.”) And over nine phone calls, it had become very clear that Jamie loved the work, even if she did have to deal with some sexist neighbors who refused to hire her for “a man’s job.”

“Jamie, they’re beautiful...”

3) Kissing Jamie had been where it all went wrong.

It wasn’t the flowers alone that sent her over the edge. Not even the wine, exactly, though it certainly hadn’t helped. A glass and a half in, and her head had felt fuzzy. “Mom would be so ashamed,” she’d thought to herself with a giggle. She’d giggled a lot, actually — which had been especially inappropriate since Jamie’s Blockbuster pick had been Friday The 13th. But Jamie hadn’t seemed to mind. Jamie had teased her with that cheeky little smirk that made Dani feel tingly. Jamie had looked at her more than the TV.

Jamie enjoyed her company for what it was. That’s the realization Dani had come to as the credits rolled, sitting on the couch with her arm around Jamie’s shoulders and Jamie’s head on her right one. So much for not being a lightweight, too... Then again, Jamie had been up since 5:30, and they hadn’t even started the movie until 10.

“Fuck. Sorry.”

Jamie had jerked her head up, looking so meek. Like she’d done something wrong. Like there was no way Dani could’ve liked it. And that’s what had finally broken Dani. That’s when she’d pulled Jamie closer, cupped Jamie’s cheek with her free hand before Jamie could turn away in shame and reassured her in the only way she could think of.

It had done the exact opposite.

Not only had Jamie not kissed her back. She’d yelped in surprise, and then gone speechless when Dani immediately pulled back — just stared at her, wide-eyed and rapidly losing color.

“Jamie...”

I don’t know what to say.

Before she could even apologize, Jamie had practically jumped off the couch, out of her arms, and run to the bathroom. Leaving Dani to slump back against the couch and add another tally to worst things I’ve ever done.

(“Danielle, I love you!”)

At least she wouldn’t have to see Eddie again until school started. The O’Mara’s always went on vacation to Lake Michigan at the end of the summer. The O’Mara’s and her, for a decade.

Not that she regretted her decision. It was the fact that she didn’t, actually, that made her feel guilty. Though she did miss him, of course. He was the closest thing she’d ever had to a brother, which felt kinda twisted to say after dating him for the past three years. But it was the truth. She’d felt more kissing Jamie just now than she’d ever felt kissing Eddie.

And wasn’t that just her luck.

Not that it was Jamie’s fault. If Jamie wasn’t interested, she wasn’t interested. God, Jamie could be straight for all she knew. When she’d asked if Jamie was seeing anyone last year — not in that way, just to get to know her new classmate, her new lockermate — Jamie had been cagey, so Dani hadn’t asked again, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

What if Jamie didn’t even want to be her friend anymore? After all, Jamie had probably assumed she was straight.

Dani heard a click now and sat up, looking over the back of the couch. Jamie closed the bathroom door, and Dani sat back down sideways as Jamie walked back over. But Jamie’s eyes remained glued to the carpet; and when she sat down on the edge of the couch, wringing her hands in her lap, she was several inches farther away than she’d been.

“I’m so sorry, Jamie. It - it won’t happen again. I promise.”

She had to practically choke out the words, but she meant them.

“S’okay.”

Maybe she really had read this all wrong from the start. Mistaken Jamie’s selflessness for affection.

“No, it’s not. You’re - ”

“I’m fine!”

Dani couldn’t help flinching. She knew Jamie had a temper. Everyone at school did. But it had never been directed at her.

“Sorry.” She’d already forgiven her, but Jamie did look genuinely remorseful as she looked at her, finally. “Just, uh...” Jamie cleared her throat — as she often did, even over the phone. “Caught me off-guard, is all.”

Dani wasn’t sure what possessed her not to just leave it there. Or apologize again. But to smirk at Jamie.

“Or was I just bad?”

“No! I...” Jamie gulped, ducking her head. “I don’t think so.”

Dani snorted. Jamie was far sweeter than she cared to give herself credit for.

“Don’t think so?”

She expected Jamie to laugh, to relent, to resume the playful roasting Dani loved. But Jamie didn’t say anything as she looked away, quickly but not quickly enough for Dani to miss the added color blossoming on her cheeks or the way her lips quivered.

“Oh...” Dani couldn’t breathe. “My god. Oh my god!”

“I’m gonna go.”

Jamie’s voice was raspy, barely above a whisper, as she bolted off the couch, and Dani felt worse still.

“No! Wait, I - ” Jamie was running up the basement steps before Dani even got to her feet shakily. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

Only to immediately trip.

***

“Fuck!”

First, Jamie had lost her dignity. And now she’d lost her shoes. Or, rather, left them inside. Downstairs. Kicked them off so she could kick her socked feet up on the coffee table. She was trash, but she wasn’t a tool.

Well, that was her answer, wasn’t it? Anyone who might look at her funny on the walk home probably would’ve looked at her funny anyway. And she was already halfway across Dani’s lawn. Fuck shoes.

Except... they were one of her only pairs. And her favorite, tattered as they were. And... Dani liked them.

“Oh, thank god.”

It wasn’t fair, the way her heart still swooped at the sound of Dani’s voice. Breathless, at the moment. She slowly, and only partially reluctantly, turned around to find Dani stepping out onto her front porch, panting... and holding her Black Hi Top All-Stars. There was no point in leaving now, Jamie supposed, as she shoved her hands in her pockets — not until she got her shoes back.

“Thanks.”

She muttered it, not even looking Dani in the eye. But she still said it. She did not, however, reach for the shoes when Dani offered them, waiting for her to set them down on the lawn instead. Maybe Jamie had a shred of dignity left, after all. Or maybe it was just her good old self-preservation kicking in again — eleven months too late. Clearing her throat, she bent down and picked up her shoes. She could make it around the corner at least before putting them on.

“Jamie.”

She could hear it in her voice, but seeing the tears in Dani’s eyes — as she looked up, despite herself — well, it didn’t make it easier to blink back her own.

“S’all good.”

She nodded, trying for a smile. Probably not succeeding.

“I’m the one who should be ashamed.”

Wait, Dani had come all the way out here just to double down? Seriously?

“I - I never would’ve - ”

Jamie felt a sneer curling her lips.

“Kissed me if you’d known?”

“Of course not.”

Well, then.

“See ya at school.”

She didn’t look back as she continued across the lawn, but she couldn’t shut her ears off.

“Jamie?”

Nor could she stop herself from rolling her eyes at Dani’s confused tone. This was how it had been all along, though, wasn’t it? She’d been a good enough distraction from Eddie, but now she wasn’t a good enough experiment. Yet Dani wanted her to stick around anyway. And she was supposed to be grateful.

“Jamie!”

Jamie flung shoes down on the edge of the lawn and spun around as her eyes burned.

“Look, I’m sorry for not advertisin’ the fact that I’ve never snogged anyone! But you came onto me! And you regrettin’ it now is not my problem!”

It should’ve felt good. Would’ve felt good, probably, if not for her starting with her deepest insecurity, throwing a voice crack in the middle and ending in tears. But, all in all...

“I don’t.”

It was so quiet Jamie almost didn’t hear Dani over her own breakdown. But even through blurry eyes, there was no mistaking Dani approaching.

“I don’t regret it.” Jamie sniffled pathetically as Dani took her hands. “I’ve - I’ve wanted to do it... for a long time.”

Even as she felt her heart swoop again, Jamie couldn’t quiet the voice in the back of her head and chuckled harshly.

“And yet you’re ashamed.”

“Because I stole your first kiss!”

Tears were streaming down Dani’s face now. But Jamie, it was like the levy breaking. She’d always been a cryer, much to her chagrin. But not like this. Not when Louise had left. Not in the group homes. Not when she’d finally been shipped off to the States because the system didn’t know what else to do with her and an American businessman had promised to come back from his trip with a child for his lonely wife.

No, she hadn’t cried like this since Mikey had been taken from her.

“I’m sorry.” Dani was holding her. Jamie wasn’t even sure when it had happened. But Dani was stroking her hair, rubbing her back, as she bawled into her shoulder, arms crossed over her own chest, pinned against Dani’s. “I’m so sorry.”

Jamie whimpered but then cleared her throat hard.

“You didn’t.” It still came out garbled, and she coughed. “Didn’t... steal it.”

“Jay.”

(“Hey, Jay... Sorry, Jay-Jamie, are you, umm, doing anything this weekend?”)

“I... wan’ed it... to be you.”

She felt Dani loosen her grip and lifted her head up, sniffling, to find Dani looking at her in... in awe? Feeling heat rise to cheeks, she ducked her head, laughing awkwardly.

“Not that I was savin’ maself or anythin’.” She cleared her throat and rubbed her face, starting to get a hold of herself again. “Never made much of an effort, though. Not, uh... much of a people person, in case ya hadn’t noticed.”

Jamie smiled a little to herself as she heard Dani let out a watery chuckle and rubbed the back of her neck as Dani’s hands ghosted over her hips.

“And I knew bein’ gay n’ all. Wouldn’t have as many options. But I dunno. I just...” Jamie cleared her throat again, looking back up as she went to shove her hands in her pockets but felt Dani take them instead. “Assumed it would happen eventually, ya know?”

Dani nodded, and the gentle yet focused look on her face almost made Jamie burst into tears all over again.

“By the time, I moved here, though... But then I met you.” Dani smiled; and, Christ, even with tear-stained cheeks, she was radiant. “And I - honestly, I figured it was pointless to hope for.”

Jamie’s heart clenched as Dani’s face fell in an instant, and she squeezed Dani’s hands as she tried for a smile again. Felt it working this time.

“But it was hope.”

Slowly, Dani’s smile came back to life, even warmer. Or was it Dani’s cheeks that were getting warmer?

“Can I, umm, can I be your first second kiss... too?”

This was her moment. This was her chance. Why couldn’t she fuckin’ do it?

“Sorry, I - ” Dani’s blush was quite evident now. “Obviously, it’s fine if you don’t - ”

“No, I do!”

To her credit, Dani didn’t laugh at the outburst. She was clearly fighting a smile, though, and Jamie cleared her throat yet again.

“I just, uh... I don’t want to... disappoint ya.”

She couldn’t make it through it without looking down, though that didn’t help much considering Dani was holding her hands.

“Hey.” Dani squeezed them. “Look at me… Jay.”

Unfair pulling out what Jamie was sure would one day be her ‘teacher tone.’ But she chuckled as she complied and found Dani smiling softly.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“So really no pressure, then.”

Dani rolled her eyes, and Jamie’s heart tripped over itself, then pounded as Dani proceed to reach up and tuck a few of her curls behind her ear.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Jamie. The only thing that matters to me... is that it’s you. And that you feel com- ”

Fuck, what was she doing?

“Sorry! I’m sorry.”

Jamie pulled her hands off Dani’s cheeks and ran them through her own hair as she folded in on herself. She didn’t know much. But she was fairly certain kissing Dani was not supposed to involve breaking her nose. There wasn’t any blood on Dani’s face, though. In fact, Dani was... grinning. Beaming, even. And Jamie couldn’t help returning it a little, even as her face burned.

“Told ya I would screw it up.”

Dani raised an eyebrow.

“Do I look disappointed?”

Jamie gulped, blushing even harder. Since when she had become such a simp?

Well, no. That was the thing. She never had been, had she? Because Dani had never once treated her as lesser than. Dani had gone out of her way, in fact, to try and prove to her that she wasn’t — whether it was slipping notes into her locker before an exam or sitting with her in the cafeteria when no one else would, including Eddie, or introducing herself on that very first day, only to get a grunt in reply.

“Ya know what they say, though…” Jamie snapped out of it just in time to watch Dani’s confidence falter. “Third, umm, third time’s - ”

Jamie bobbed her head embarrassingly quickly, embarrassingly hard. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to feel even an ounce of mortification. Only excitement. Well, okay, maybe a little nerves too. Especially as Dani, beaming once more, gripped her wrists and guided hands back to her face.

“Okay, umm, you tend to tilt your head to the left, so...”

She did? How would Dani even know that?

Dani erupted into giggles, and Jamie flushed as she realized she was literally titling her head to the left in contemplation.

“Why do you think I sat on the left side of the couch?”

What?

Dani flushed now as her smile turned sheepish, and Jamie felt the corner of her mouth curve up as her heart fluttered. Dani really had wanted it. All of it.

“Anyway.” Dani swallowed. “Since yours tilts to the left, tilt my head to the left too... Sorry, my left. Your right.”

Fuckin’ hell. Dani wasn’t snickering, though, as she let go of her wrists. She was actually looking at her quite intently, a little south of her eyeline. Jamie felt her mouth go dry.

“And then…”

“Yeah.” Dani swallowed again, as her eyes flicked back up, then smiled ruefully. “Sorry, I - I’ve never really tried to teach this before.”

Before Jamie could make a flirty quip, Dani blanched.

“Oh, god. That sounded really patronizing. I didn’t...”

Jamie leaned in, closing her eyes.

“Can I kiss ya, Dani?”

She couldn’t feel Dani’s nose at all, which she figured was a good sign — though, admittedly, she did feel rather foolish and uncomfortable titling her head almost sideways. Particularly without an answer. But then she felt a hand on her chin, another on the top of her head, tilting her closer to center. Close enough to feel the side of Dani’s nose nuzzle against her own as Dani wrapped her arms around her neck and exhaled.

“Please do.”

And Jamie did.

#dani x jamie #bly manor fic #bly manor fanfic #damie au #bly manor #the haunting of bly manor #damie fic #damie fanfic #thobm fic #thobm fanfic #damie #dani clayton #jamie taylor #thobm #jamie clayton #jamie bly manor #dani bly manor

[ushijimaenthusiast]

a smol iwasemi for iwas bday! semi pretends iwa is his bc to make another dude back off but it fails

[ao3]

Hajime considers himself a patient man.

He’s been best friends with Oikawa since they were kids, so he’s used to his flamboyant, eccentric, egotistical personality getting them into all sorts of shit whenever they’re together, but lately, it seems as though something is throwing Oikawa out of whack, and it’s driving Hajime crazy.

Like tonight: instead of serving Hajime the beer he asked for five minutes ago, Oikawa is standing a foot away from a couple further down the bar pretending to polish a glass as he eavesdrops on the sleazy guy spew disgusting pick-up lines on the clearly uninterested girl. He knows Oikawa is paying attention because he’s seen some horrible things happen while working behind the counter, but Hajime can plainly tell that the woman would be able to handle herself no matter what happened. Even Hajime wouldn’t approach her unless prompted.

Normally Hajime wouldn’t mind Oikawa being so observant of something that has the potential to be dangerous; he’d commend his friend instead of criticizing him. But tonight was supposed to be about him.

It’s his birthday! He was supposed to have a fun night out with his best friend while the two did something exciting and chaotic and stupid, not spend the night on his usual barstool watching as his best friend works.

Hajime knows he’s fine with Oikawa working this evening. He’s fine with them not having a weekend off together for the foreseeable future and he’s even fine with the fact that he’s once again at this stupid bar nursing a drink as a single topic of conversation is dragged out over twenty minutes because Oikawa keeps getting pulled away to serve other customers.

It’s fine.

Hajime also knows he’s allowed to be a little bitter over it all, and he’s fine with that, too.

After another handful of minutes have passed and Oikawa still hasn’t moved from his spot despite the woman leaving, Hajime decides to throw caution to the wind and reach over the counter to grab the closest thing he can. He’s not scared about repercussions since Oikawa’s brother is the owner and likes him more than he likes Oikawa.

Just as he stands and plants his chest against the counter to see what he can find, something bumps into him and has the edge digging sharply into his stomach, followed by something wet landing on his shoulder.

“Hey!” he coughs out, pushing off from the counter and spinning around to chew out whoever bumped into him, only to have the words die in his throat.

Hajime’s been around Oikawa too long to really ever be interested in pretty guys, but the man pressed up against him throws everything out the window. From his dip-dyed ashy blond hair curling softly around his ears, his narrowed eyes darkened with smeared eyeliner, his sneering lips glinting with something silver. Hajime is captivated by the expression that’s not directed at him, and it takes a moment for what’s happening to catch up with him.

There’s another man standing next to them, taller and bigger than Hajime and it has him leaning away, wondering what the hell is going on. He’s scowling and wiping liquid off his face, probably the remnants from the glass in Pretty Boy’s hand.

“And I told you it was none of your business! It doesn't matter what’s in my pants, no still means no you dipshit.”

God, even his voice is pretty. Hajime feels himself start to smile a little, wanting to hear more of it despite the hostility, but is forced back when the intruder leans in and Pretty Boy pushes him further into the counter.

He starts to open his mouth, but Pretty Boy interrupts, “If you don’t back off I’ll have my boyfriend kick the shit out of you.”

Hajime’s sure his eyebrows meet his hairline. And then disappear completely when Pretty Boy wraps his arm around Hajime’s waist.

The intruder stares Hajime up and down, sizing him up and thinking if he’d win a fight, but all Hajime can focus on is the warmth now pressed all against his left side, wondering if he should return the gesture and play along or politely back off, not wanting to get in the middle of this feud.

The longer he’s silent, the more the arm around him tightens and the more the intruder starts to sneer and puff out his chest, shoulders squaring back and head tilting him. Hajime suddenly doesn’t remember how to block a punch.

“If you throw one punch at my best friend I’ll shove this bottle so far up your ass they’ll have to break your rib cage to dig it out.”

They all turn to stare at Oikawa who’s brandishing a still-full bottle of Smirnoff as he glares at the intruder, his lips twisted up into a dangerous smirk. It’s a look Hajime has seen too many times to count and knows what’s about to happen.

He spins out of Pretty Boy’s arms and leans across the counter to whisper-shout at Oikawa. “If you get into another fight you’re gonna get fired, brother or not.”

Oikawa doesn’t take his eyes off the intruder, nor does he keep his voice low. “You underestimate my persuasion skills over my brother. Now, Mr. Neanderthal,” he directs at the intruder, “this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you push yourself onto nice people, so I’m only gonna ask you once. Leave my bar, or I’ll kick your ass.”

One glance over his shoulder at the intruder and Hajime knows what’s going to happen next. He knows his best friend enough that he will literally follow up with his threat, and Hajime has a second to decide if he needs to continue to intervene or just steer Pretty Boy out of harm’s way until everything’s over.

What Hajime did not expect was to end up in urgent care, the blond sitting next to him with one hand rubbing circles on his back and the other holding Hajime’s.

The cab ride had been a little blurry, Hajime more focused on the blood seeping from his scalp and the hands pushing him out the bar than what was really going on, Oikawa’s laughter trailing after them like a maniacal echo.

Pretty Boy took charge and Hajime let him, not paying much attention to anything except the tone of the man’s voice.

By the time they get to the urgent care, Hajime’s head is killing him and it seems as if the blood has slowed down, if it was even that bad to begin with. Pretty Boy does most of the paperwork, even going so far as to dig out Hajime’s wallet and search for an insurance card. Hajime keeps a close eye on him then, but Pretty Boy doesn’t even try to touch his cash or credit cards.

He sits with Hajime through the hour-long wait and through the twenty-minute doctor visit, detailing the events leading up to the visit as the doctor pulls shards of glass from Hajime’s scalp. He doesn’t need stitches, which is great, and he doesn’t have a concussion, which is even better. The news has Pretty Boy sighing in relief, throwing Hajime a beautiful tiny smile.

Hajime expects them to part ways after the exam, but Pretty Boy directs him to the nearest diner, and it’s not until they’re collapsing into a booth that Hajime realizes he’s exhausted, but can admit that it was nice being babied for a while.

He even tells Pretty Boy that, and it earns him a small laugh that has Hajime swooning. He wipes at his eyes, smearing his already smudged eyeliner, but it just adds another level of intrigue to him that has Hajime leaning further over the table as they start to talk.

The man’s name is Semi Eita, and by the time their drinks arrive, Hajime thinks he’s a little bit in love.

“It’s not the first night I’ve seen you there, ya know,” Semi says after the waiter brings their meals. He grabs a fry and points it at Hajime before plopping it into his mouth. Hajime’s eyes track the movement, catching another glint of silver on Semi’s tongue that’s quickly hidden behind pink lips. He almost can’t take his eyes off Semi’s lips, following the curve of the cupid’s bow and trailing along the edge until he’s met with the spiral piercing curving at the bottom corner of his mouth. It’s captivating, and Hajime finds it hard to focus whenever it moves.

A fry hits him in the face, startling Hajime back into his seat. Semi gives him a curious look before his lips stretch in a grin that he tries to duck and hide.

His earlier words catch up with Hajime. “Why haven’t you approached me before then?”

Semi shrugs, not meeting Hajime’s eyes. He plops another fry into his mouth and takes a moment to answer. “I kind of thought you were with that bartender since I see you talkin’ with him all the time. Or you were straight since I’ve only seen you with girls hanging off your arm.”

Hajime snorts at that, quickly shaking the image of him and Oikawa out of his head. “I might swing for the right girl, but uh, I’m pretty gay. A lot of them pull a stunt like you did tonight, and I go with it because there are some sleazy assholes out there. And Oikawa’s my best friend. He’s more like an annoying brother I wish I could auction off for all the trouble he’s caused me.”

Semi winces at the jab, but Hajime continues, smiling. “He couldn’t get the night off, so I figured it’d be better to spend my birthday at the bar instead of home alone, even though he still ignored me all night because he was working.” Hajime rubs at his eyes, suddenly realizing how pathetic his idea for the evening was.

Semi hisses, and when Hajime peeks through his fingers at the other man, he catches a look of pity. “And I went and made everything worse for you.”

Hajime shakes his head, lowering his hands and offering a hopefully charming smile.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty happy with how my evening is going.”

Semi’s eyes widen, and the very top of his cheeks flush. Hajime finds it absolutely adorable.

“Even though you got into a bar fight because of a total stranger and ended up in urgent care because someone broke a bottle over your skull?”

Hajime laughs, nods.

“I met a really pretty guy who’s interested in me and took care of me. I’m interested in him too, and I’m hoping this night ends with me getting his number and a plan for a second date.”

Hajime watches as Semi's cheeks darken, and the very tip of his nose starts to pinken. Hajime wants to lean over the table and kiss him.

“Well shit,” Semi coughs, obviously flustered. Hajime grins even wider, finally giving in enough to reach out and gently grasp one of Semi’s hands, tangling their fingers together to reassure him. Hajime’s sure that despite the alt look, Semi might be on the softer side.

Hajime can’t wait to get to know Semi Eita, can’t wait to find out a million mundane things about the man who started a fight just so he could get to know Hajime. Maybe it’s a little weird or unorthodox, but it’s also something new and exciting. It’s the beginning of something that Hajime is actually looking forward to, and if the pleased and longing look in Semi’s eyes is anything to go by, it’s safe to say the other man is excited too.

Hajime’s glad he’s a patient man, because he hopes this will take a while.

#haikyuu!! #iwaizumi hajime #semi eita #oikawa tooru #iwasemi #writing #meet cute

[libraryscarf]

once like this (t) 4.5k words

Galo did not expect to meet an angel at the bus stop.

But then, not many people expect to meet an angel anywhere, bus stop or otherwise. Most people go entire lifetimes without meeting angels.

All of them, in fact.

Until now.

1.

“‘S’cuse me?” Galo said, because he couldn’t very well say anything else.

The young man standing in front of Galo repeated himself obligingly.

“I am an angel.”

Galo gave him what he hoped was a flattering once-over.

“Well…you do look…um.”

The young man who called himself an angel did not seem either flattered or offended by Galo’s stuttering. In fact, he looked a bit bored with the whole conversation.

He was quite a bit shorter than Galo, and he seemed…translucent, somehow. As though he were more an echo of a person than the real thing. He was remarkably pale. He had a pale, angular face, and pale, silky-looking hair.

The only part of him that wasn’t pale were his eyes, which were a fierce, bloody pink. That couldn’t be healthy, Galo thought. Conjunctivitis, perhaps?

“You do not believe me,” said the young man who called himself an angel.

Galo’s eyes went very wide.

“Oh. You’re serious?”

“Of course I am serious.”

“Like, an actual angel?” Galo prodded “With wings and shit?”

The young man nodded. Galo needed a moment to process this. He needed several moments.

He could call Aina. She would probably know what to do.

“She would tell you to call the police.”

Galo reeled backward. “Can you read my mind?” he demanded.

“No,” said the angel. “But I know what you usually do in unprecedented situations. Right now, all of your friends would tell you I am delusional, and that you should call the authorities and get away from me as quickly as possible.”

Galo hesitated, then asked:

“Should I…do that?”

The angel looked him square in the face with those ferocious, beautiful eyes.

“That is your choice.”

Galo felt hot, from the tips of his toes to the very top of his scalp. He suspected that had more to do with this stranger’s devastating attractiveness than with his alleged divinity.

He cleared his throat.

“Can you prove you’re an angel?”

“I could, but it would destroy this body.”

Galo inhaled sharply.

“You would die?”

“No,” said the angel. “I cannot die. This vessel, however, can.”

An expression flickered across his face; if Galo trusted his eyes, it was almost a smile.

“As a general rule,” the angel said, “the human body does not enjoy housing a pillar of divine fire.”

Galo wasn’t sure if he should laugh or not. He tried to do both at once, which resulted in a sort of choked snort.

“We can start somewhere else,” he suggested. “Do you…have a name?”

The angel considered this for a moment.

“I did not give myself a human name,” he admitted. “It seemed unimportant.”

“Unimportant!” Galo repeated incredulously. “But it’s—it’s you! It’s the first gift you get in your life! You should give yourself a name. I can help you.”

The angel’s lips twitched again. Galo wondered, if under the right circumstances, he might hear him laugh.

“I do have a name,” the angel said. “A celestial one. It’s not exactly…friendly to human ears.”

Galo puffed his chest up.

“My ears are up to the challenge.”

The angel raised one pale eyebrow. Then he opened his mouth, and Galo’s vision went blurry. His head began to ring; it felt like all the air in his chest was being pressed out of him.

Then, everything went white.

When Galo woke up, he was lying prone on the bus stop bench. Something hot and metallic ran sickeningly down the back of his throat. He coughed, wetly, and realized his nose was bleeding.

The angel knelt next to him, and the expression on his face was no longer hard to read. He looked absolutely horrified.

“Are you all right?” he asked, as soon as Galo opened his eyes.

Galo sat up, wiping his nose off on his shirt. His head still seemed to echo with that otherworldly bell.

“Yeah!” he said. “That was cool as fuck! That’s your real name?”

The angel regarded him with narrow eyes.

“Something like that,” he said.

“I’m not sure I can pronounce that,” Galo admitted. “So I’m gonna think of something else to call you. Hey, our bus is here!”

: : :

Keeping an angel in his apartment proved to be more of an ordeal than Galo anticipated. This was complicated by the fact that, despite claiming to be a near-omniscient heavenly entity, Lio had no idea how to use a sink, or a toilet, or a stovetop.

(The name was Galo’s suggestion. “I think it sounds kickass,” was his argument. Lio had agreed.)

“For an angel, you sure seem hellbent on hurting yourself,” Galo muttered, snatching Lio’s hand away from the gas range for the third time that evening.

“I am merely researching.”

“Yeah?” Galo stirred the marinara sauce with unnecessary aggression.

“Can you go research on the couch, or somewhere else where you won’t burn your fingerprints off?”

“I don’t have fingerprints,” Lio said. He waggled his hands in front of Galo’s face to demonstrate that he did not, in fact, have fingerprints. The pads of his fingers were as smooth as glass.

“Damn,” Galo said. “You could really confuse some detectives.”

Lio blinked. “Are you suggesting I carry out a crime?”

To Galo’s horror, he actually seemed to be considering it.

“It would be a very new experience,” Lio murmured. “I would, of course, have to take precautions.”

Lio did this sometimes. He seemed to forget that the things he said inside his head and the things he said outside of it were not one and the same. It worked the other way too. He would occasionally wait for Galo to answer a question that had not been asked aloud.

Galo wondered if telepathy was a thing angels had. He swallowed hard, and looked deliberately away from Lio’s soft hair and pretty shoulders. He really hoped it wasn’t.

“We’re not going to commit crime,” he stated firmly.

“Of course you aren’t,” Lio corrected. “I was referring to myself.”

Galo pointed him sternly out of the kitchen.

“Go sit on the couch and watch TV until you stop thinking about setting your hands on fire or breaking the law. We’re going to have a nice dinner.”

Lio’s forehead wrinkled, cutely. Most of the things he did were cute, which made Galo miserable.

“You know, of course, that I do not need to eat,” he pointed out.

“And I still don’t care,” Galo retorted. “You can’t just sit around my apartment not eating.”

“Why not?”

“My conscience won’t allow it.”

“As an angel, I overrule your conscience,” Lio said. “By quite a lot, I might add.”

Galo dropped the spoon back into the saucepan.

“And there’s that.”

He spun to square off against Lio, hands on hips.

“I want answers.”

Galo tried to sound mad. He really, really did. But Lio was hard to be angry at. Negative emotions seemed to slide right out of Galo’s brain when he looked at him. It was like Lio emanated a calming, gentle aura that hung about him like a golden curtain. When Galo tried to look through it, he felt like he was on the verge of seeing something too good: too relentlessly beautiful to exist.

The whole situation really was a pain in the ass.

Galo fixed his eyes a little to the left of Lio’s face, trying to evade direct confrontation with the pleasant, tempting warmth that tickled the edges of his psyche.

“So if you’re an angel,” he said, slowly. “Why did you show up to me, specifically? Is this some It’s a Wonderful Life shit?”

Lio didn’t have a ready reply to that, which fueled Galo’s suspicions.

“I don’t understand what you’re asking,” Lio said stubbornly.

They had been dancing around this ever since the beginning: days and days of simply not talking about it.

Now, it suddenly seemed to Galo that this wasn’t something he would normally do. He wasn’t often the type to look at his feelings sideways.

On the heels of this thought, he realized: it must have been Lio’s influence. That sweet, irresistible halo of warmth depositing a steady stream of pleasant chemicals into his brain. Galo hadn’t wanted to talk about anything uncomfortable—not with the way Lio’s presence made him feel.

Now that he knew that, Galo was pissed.

“Not cool of you to dope me up with your weird angel pheromones, dude,” he said tightly.

Lio looked a bit alarmed, and the cloud of seductive warmth around him dropped instantly to a dull fizzle. Galo winced as the comforting glow in his head faded, replaced with awkward reality.

“I…I apologize,” Lio said. “I wasn’t…strict enough with myself. I too am learning how this works.”

“I want you to start explaining shit,” Galo said bluntly, before his own, entirely human reactions to Lio surfaced and caused any problems.

“What kind of shit would you like explained?” Lio asked meekly, his mouth pursed in a charming pout.

Galo narrowed his eyes. So the angel could play dirty.

“What are you really doing here?” he demanded. “And if I think you’re lying I’m gonna send a prayer direct to God himself and narc on you.”

Lio’s nostrils flared in what Galo chose to believe was amusement.

“I’ve never lied to you,” he pointed out.

“No, you just distracted and misdirected me. You started glowing all nice and everything just…slid out of my head.”

Lio maintained his staring contest with Galo’s chin, even as his own eyebrows drew together. It was the first time he had really displayed worry, and despite Galo’s demand for honesty, he wanted desperately to smooth those furrows away.

“I was hoping to curb your curiosity for your own safety,” Lio admitted. “I intended to tell you—afterward.”

The way he said the last word made the bottom of Galo’s stomach drop away.

“After…what?”

Lio pressed his lips together and looked up—straight into Galo’s eyes.

Galo saw it then. A wrong fold in the fabric of his life.

He remembered another himself: a Galo identical to him, but at a different time. He remembered fire. He remembered the door behind him locked. He remembered suffocation. He remembered pain.

For a moment, Galo remembered dying, as clearly as if it were happening that very moment.

When he opened his eyes, his cheeks felt warm and wet. Lio raised a hand to his face, wiping off the tears and mucus with his own sleeve. The intimacy of the gesture sank into Galo’s heart like a bullet.

“I’m going to die,” he said.

And he knew, as he said it aloud, how true it was.

: : :

Despite knowing the fact of his future death, Galo was more concerned with who was responsible for it. Someone had trapped him there on purpose. Someone wanted him dead.

“That’s not important for you to know,” was Lio’s only response. Galo saw red.

“There’s someone out there who wants to—who succeeds in—killing me!”

“You aren’t going to die like that, Galo Thymos,” Lio said.

“Well, how about some other way?” Galo retorted. “How am I supposed to relax, knowing that someone wants me dead? How can you say that’s not important?”

Lio’s face closed off like a trap, which meant Galo had struck a nerve.

“I’m not going to look for revenge or anything like that, Lio,” he pleaded. “I just want to be prepared. Please.”

The muscles in Lio’s jaw worked as he fought with himself. Finally, he ground out:

“I have broken so many rules just to get this far,”

“Great!” Galo said happily. “What’s one more?”

The wave of aggravation rolling off Lio curled the hairs on the back of Galo’s neck.

“Never mind,” he amended quickly.

“Galo Thymos,” Lio said, in a somewhat strained voice. “This is the end of your involvement. I ask you—I beg you, to let me take care of the rest.”

Galo went silent for a few moments. When he spoke again, it was quiet. Hurt.

“Who would hate me that much, Lio?” he asked. “Are you really not going to tell me?”

Galo felt sick at the very thought of it—that he had offended someone badly enough to warrant that hatred. That just wasn’t his style.

He was the guy everyone liked. Even if he was ignored, even if he wasn’t respected, he could be liked. He’d done his best at this, and after all that—had he really failed?

Lio said nothing, but he cupped Galo’s cheeks in his hands and lifted his face. It felt lovely.

Until today, Lio had so rarely touched him, and his skin was feather-soft. That alone was almost enough to make Galo forget how miserable he was.

Almost.

“Maybe that was the way it should have happened,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Lio’s fingers against his face twitched.

“What?”

“Maybe…” Galo’s voice trailed off. His throat felt like a clogged pipe.

“Maybe if I did hurt someone that badly…then maybe that way was right.”

“No!”

The light touch on his face vanished, just as Galo jumped at the force in Lio’s tone. He looked up and gasped.

Thin, bat-like wings unfurled from Lio’s shoulder-blades. They were huge and black: a hungry, hot black that made Galo feel slightly dizzy. Simultaneously, two horns erupted high on Lio’s forehead: wickedly sharp, their color bright, fearsome white that cast the rest of the well-lit apartment into shadow.

“You will not die before your time, Galo Thymos,” Lio said. Except… it didn’t sound very much like Lio anymore. His voice seemed to come from everywhere in the room, and the floor trembled.

“I will not let you.”

Galo could only stare, awestruck. When he found his voice again, the wings and the horns were gone. It was just Lio again, sitting there innocently like nothing had happened.

“Is that why you’re here?” Galo asked, promptly shoving the impossible vision aside to be dealt with later. “To prevent my death?”

Lio avoided eye contact. He hadn’t yet mastered the human art of lying. Despite the telltale silence, Galo had to believe there was another reason. Angels didn’t simply fall to earth to save one life.

“Let me guess,” he said, adopting a melodramatic attitude. “You’re here on a special mission to prevent global conflict! You have been assigned the critical task of protecting Galo Thymos, whose tragic and early death sparked riots all over the world!”

Lio didn’t laugh; he gave Galo a hard look.

“You do not seem to understand the value of your own life,” he said.

Galo shrugged.

“In my line of work, dying is part of the contract,” he said lightly. “But…I did kind of hope I’d be able to put out a few more fires before it was over.”

Galo’s rueful smile slid off when he looked at Lio again. For the first time since they had met, the angel looked furious. His eyes were pools of molten heat.

“How dare you,” Lio hissed. “How dare you, Galo Thymos?”

Galo’s mouth flopped open, uselessly.

“Huh?”

Lio stood, and for a moment Galo worried he was about to sprout wings and horns again. But the only thing he did was keep glaring down at Galo, rage peeling off him in terrifying, invisible waves.

“You would die alone,” Lio said cruelly. “You would be mourned by the few who know you, and then you would be forgotten. This does not bother you?”

“It sure doesn’t, now that I know heaven exists!” Galo shot back.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew it was foolish to escalate the argument, but he was tired of being scolded, even if it was Lio—beautiful, wise, immortal Lio—doing the scolding.

He stood, and was pleased to note that despite the angel’s formidable aura, Galo was still significantly taller.

“Typical Galo Thymos,” Lio said. His eyes were narrow slits of fire.

“Arrogant, irresponsible, and reckless.”

He turned, stalking out of the room, and Galo was left with a heaviness tugging on his heart that he had never felt before.

: : :

Despite his swagger and his bravado, Galo was afraid of many things.

He was afraid of hesitating during a crisis. He was afraid of losing the small group of people he considered friends. He was afraid of taking any action, making any decision that might dishonor the great man who had saved his life. The great man who stood before him now.

Kray Foresight grinned down at Galo like a lunatic, his eyes blazing red through a haze of smoke. The pungent scent of melting metal hung around them like a poisonous shroud, stripping away the inside of Galo’s lungs.

“I certainly didn’t expect you to make this so easy,” said Kray. “But you are, if nothing else, predictable.”

Galo was without gear, without matoi, without backup. He had already been inside the building when the fire started, just two floors down from the governor’s office. When smoke began pouring into the room, Galo realized that it was here.

This was the place he died. This was the man who killed him.

He thought he knew now what Lio meant, when he said dying alone was something to fear.

Kray looked down at him, the smoky shadow of his immense form filling the doorway. His eyes burned with insane, festering hatred as he looked at Galo choking on the floor. Then, wordlessly, he shut the door, and the lock clicked into place.

Galo tried to cry out, but his throat was on fire, his lungs withering. He shut his eyes against the smoke, and felt the dark coming to meet him.

Then he was lifted, cradled gently against a strong, warm body. Galo was confused at this. Had he already died? Could this be the beginning of an afterlife?

“I am sorry for cutting it so close.”

Lio’s voice came from nearby, the tone of it jagged with distress. To Galo, it sounded like every beautiful noise in the world.

“Ugh,” he groaned. “I ain’t dead?”

He hadn’t opened his eyes, but he knew from the lightness of his own heart that Lio was smiling at him.

“No, Galo Thymos,” Lio said. “You are not dead.”

Galo laughed aloud at that, even though it hurt. He was giddy from the adrenaline, the pain, the endorphins.

“What’s with that?” he muttered. “Why is it always ‘Galo Thymos’ this, and ‘Galo Thymos’ that?”

Lio seemed to relax as soon as Galo began complaining. “Is that not your name?” he asked innocently.

“It is! It totally is. But my friends just call me ‘Galo’.”

“Is that what we are?” Lio asked very quietly, almost to himself. “Friends?”

Before he could answer, Galo realized they were no longer moving. He peeled his smoke-crusted eyelids open. That was when he started to yell.

“Lio!”

“Yes?” said Lio, bewildered.

“We’re a million miles in the air!” Galo hollered.

“Two point eight, actually.”

Galo clung to Lio’s torso, his mind in ruins from trying to make sense of what was, quite obviously, a view of Promepolis from cumulonimbus height.

“Oh my god, we’re gonna die,” he muttered. “Oh my god, we’re totally, definitely, absolutely going to die. Holy shit.”

Lio’s laugh was a gorgeous sound, but Galo was too busy panicking to appreciate it.

“You really think I rescued you from a burning building just to send both of us plummeting to our deaths?” he asked, still chuckling.

“Yeah, actually, I do think that!”

Lio gently began untangling Galo from the protective pretzel he had tied himself into around Lio’s body.

“You can stand, you know,” he said, but Galo just gripped more tightly.

“I really gotta remind you that you’re the angel here?!”

Lio dropped him.

Galo gasped; he expected to feel the air rushing out of his lungs as he shot toward earth. But instead, he was standing up. It was as simple as it was impossible. There he was, standing on nothing at all.

Galo stared between his feet, every muscle screaming in panic. He squeezed his eyes shut again.

“Please don’t tell me this is some ‘believe in it and it’s real’ shit,” he groaned. “Because I am not good at controlling my thoughts.”

Laughing again, Lio said: “I know this about you, Galo Thymos. Do I have to remind you that I am the angel here?”

Galo forced himself to open his eyes. He looked from the distant ground back to Lio, then from Lio to the ground. He looked back at Lio, and his brain point blank refused to acknowledge what he was seeing.

In all the ways one might expect, Lio looked exactly the same. But he was another creature entirely. Galo saw, flickering at the edges of his vision, a massive, winged shape that seemed to be made entirely of fire.

He blinked a few times, but despite its size, the flaming, winged form managed to escape his direct gaze, and searching for it strained his eyes. But Galo knew without a shred of doubt that Lio was, somehow, both beings at once.

“I cannot let you see my true nature,” Lio said in answer to Galo’s wordless confusion. “I do not believe you would survive.”

Galo bristled.

“But I’m—”

Lio held up a hand to stop him. “Yes, despite being the great Galo Thymos. You need to comprehend at least nine more dimensions before you can behold my full glory.”

“I bet I could do it.”

Galo couldn’t believe the look on the angel’s face at his challenge. Lio was smirking.

“Do you really?” he asked dangerously. “I couldn’t even tell you my real name without half of your pitiful little organs exploding.”

But that smirk had Galo fired up. This, he wouldn’t lose.

“Try me.”

A few seconds later, Galo woke up, feeling the warm, salty trickle of blood out of his nose. Lio was crouching over him, his face torn between amusement and concern.

“Are you convinced now?”

“Okay,” Galo said sheepishly. “Maybe nine dimensions is still above my pay grade.”

He wiped his face, but then realized the blood was already gone. Moreover, his desiccated lungs now felt full and healthy. His scorched clothes were whole and clean.

“You’re, uh, burning a lot of that angel fuel on me right now,” he said. “Where was all this generosity when you first showed up?”

An odd expression flickered across Lio’s face.

“I had to be cautious,” he said. “I could not cause too much of a disturbance as long as your death was a variable. But now it doesn’t matter.”

A chill rippled through Galo’s stomach.

“What does that mean?”

Lio smiled and shook his head. He helped Galo sit upright, then lowered himself beside him. It was just the two of them, perched on nothingness.

At the periphery of his senses, Galo felt the presence of the “real” Lio. His head hurt at the idea of that enormous, incomprehensible entity manifesting as the beautiful young man next to him, feet dangling into emptiness. But Galo, above anything, wanted to perceive that true, divine shape. He wanted to show Lio how capable he was of understanding him—how willing he was to learn.

“I want you to look at the sunset now, Galo Thymos,” Lio said quietly.

“I wanted you to see it once like this.”

: : :

“I can’t come back with you.”

Galo frowned. The words didn’t immediately make sense to him. Of course Lio was coming back with him. Where else would he go?

“Why not?”

Lio gestured to the city beneath them, dappled with the shadows of clouds.

“This is as close as I can get.”

“But…you’ve been living in my apartment!”

Lio nodded, and the peaceful, resigned look on his face made Galo feel sick.

“Why can’t you come back with me?” he asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Lio turned his head to look at Galo. The warm, dying colors of sunset made him look more human than ever.

“Remember what I said about the fragility of this body?”

Galo stared at him numbly as the pieces fell together. The Lio he had known—the Lio he had come to love in the fierce, desperate way a person can only love something temporary—was gone.

“You sacrificed it to save me,” he said. “Didn’t you?”

“It is good this way,” Lio replied. “I couldn’t have stayed forever.”

“Why not?!” Galo blurted out. He was so angry, it was so desperately unfair. “Why couldn’t you?”

“Because…I’m in trouble.”

Lio’s tone remained light, but Galo knew it was terribly serious.

“I ran into some friends earlier, at the Foresight Foundation building.”

The way Lio said “friends” led Galo to believe they were quite the opposite.

“They made it very clear that if I saved you, I would suffer for it later,” he said with a sigh. But rather than looking at all concerned for himself, he glanced guiltily at Galo.

“That’s why I took so long. I am sorry. Again.”

Galo could only stare. Lio looked so young and golden, it nearly broke his heart.

After a few moments of unbearable silence, Galo asked in a quiet voice:

“Are you going to tell me now? Why you saved me?”

The angel smiled at him, warmer than light itself.

“You still have to ask?”

2.

Galo goes grocery shopping on a Thursday night.

He buys six frozen pizzas and twelve cans of dog food. He slings the bags over his arms and jogs out into the brisk night air. Ever since he moved deeper into the city, the sidewalks have never been empty. He weaves in and out between slower walkers, calling pleasant greetings to those he recognizes. Despite his better judgment, his eyes follow a head of pale blonde hair until it is out of sight. Another stranger, he thinks.

Galo takes the subway to a stop near his apartment and disembarks. The station is much less busy than usual, and although he doesn’t mind a crowd, it’s nice to hear just his own footsteps echoing against the tile.

Six years have passed since Kray Foresight was charged with first-degree arson. To Galo, each of those six years is a gift.

He almost doesn’t notice the slender silhouette leaning at the top of the stairs. His arm bumps their shoulder, and he utters an automatic apology.

Galo takes another two steps. He stops. The bags of groceries fall out of his arms, cans clattering across the concrete. He doesn’t want to turn around. If he doesn’t ruin this illusion, maybe it will last a bit longer.

From behind him, he hears a voice: achingly lovely, and as familiar to him as his own.

“Are you always this rude, Galo Thymos?”

: : :

Most people go their whole lives without kissing an angel. But for Galo Thymos, on a warm Thursday night at an unusually quiet train station, things were very different.

: : :

fin

(author’s note: this piece was written for the “parallels” galolio au zine, which raised over $800 to donate to the National Black Justice Coalition. it was fantastic to be involved in the project and work with some amazing people!!)

#scarfwrites #galolio #galolio fanfiction #promare #promare fanfiction

[eleanore-delphinium]

DamiRae Week 2020: Marriage

JLDAW AU

NOTE: This is PART 3. (kinda stand-alone)

@damirae-week my entry 

Part 1: DamiRae Week: BOUND TOGETHER

Part 2: DamiRae Week: SOULMATES

Part 3: (YOU ARE HERE)

Part 4: I Remember You 

DamiRae Week 2020: MARRIAGE

~

Damian led me to where Dick was confined in and when I saw the state that Dick was in, it felt as though someone had clutched my heart from within my chest. It felt awful seeing him like that, and the emotion I was feeling off of him was intense and then hollow, and the cycle would continue. He did not understand what he was feeling when there were emotions to feel and did not know what to do with it when it’s there, and when it’s gone, he is left confused but sometimes empty. And I felt that confusion he was going through in its fast pace.

This might make me an awful person but I wanted to end his suffering through death. The thought made me forget what he was emitting and it felt like it was the right thing to do. But, how could I?

Damian had used the Lazarus pit because Dick was his brother. He longed for family in the state that we were in. And I had told him that I would have done the same if I were in his place and had his resources. So how could I find the heart to kill Dick?

“I can help…” Hearing my father say that made me think that I could heal him.

I approach Dick slowly. My perception of time and space altered. It seemed that my footsteps were too loud. My breathing uneven and my vision blurry. When I dropped to my knees beside him, the thump felt a little too loud. He looked like he was about to scream but he had a gag on his mouth, so he couldn’t. I was informed, as we were making our way here, that it was to prevent him from hurting himself or anyone else.

“Hey…”I say as gentle as I could as not to freak him out  but it sounded too loud to me. I wrap my arms around Dick. His eyes were reflecting his insanity, I propped a leg up and leaned his back against it. He squirms in my arms but I try to hold him down as much as I could, as I start healing him to at least ease his mind.

And Azar, did it feel so awful.

It feels like I couldn’t breathe. I was starting to lose myself with Dick. I wrap my arms tighter around him and bury my face on his shoulder as I began to rock our bodies.

“Shh…Shh…” I kept repeating. I wonder who was I comforting, him or me? And the shushing suddenly stopped as I started seeing flashes of Dick’s life and his emotions tangling up with him. I gasp and I sobbed and was on the verge of screaming-- but maybe I already was.

“Raven!” I hear Damian call out; his voice filled with worry and urgency. I could feel someone embrace me, and I assume it’s Damian. I held Dick closer to me maintaining focus as I fight with the surging emotions I was feeling and the visions I was seeing. I wanted to puke and yell and destroy.

And oh-- how I wanted to destroy.

Dick had become quiet—no everything around me had become awfully quiet. I could smell Damian’s scent, and was aware of his firm hold on me and his hard chest. My eyes closed and I felt water on my cheeks--tears were streaming down my face, I had realized. I must be weeping so loudly, but I couldn’t hear myself. And everything just stopped-- everything went black. I felt oddly relieved.

At first, I did not understand where I was, but it slowly sunk in that I was looking at my bedroom ceiling. The bedroom that I was assigned in when I arrived at the compound. It was rather dark and I was confused—wasn’t I with Dick? I heard shuffling against the wood and I try to get up as I turn my head to the direction of the noise. Damian is by my window which is covered by thick curtains, I notice that it was day because of the small cracks from the curtains that allowed sunlight in.

He notices me, my head is aching badly, I took notice of the disheveled state that he was in. He looked as though he has not slept well for a while.

I attempted to ask him what was wrong and how I got here, but I found that my throat was dry which adds to my confusion. I had closed my eyes and looked down, the throbbing in my head worsening in my confused state.

“God. Raven!” Damian was suddenly beside me, his arms wrapped around me. And I felt every ounce of worry and relief he felt and it felt like a slap on my cheeks. I was already confused and being suddenly overwhelmed with his emotions was a little too much. But he was shaking against me and I found that I could not afford to be overwhelmed right now. So, I lift my arms weakly to hug and comfort him. However, I found that my body felt rather weak too.

“You’ve been asleep for three days!” Damian’s face is buried against my shoulder. The way he was acting made me recognize the fear he felt. I felt something wet on the shoulder that Damian was leaning on. I realized that he was crying and the despair in his voice solidified his emotions into me.

Hearing him sound so broken made me decide to heal myself, I had to be strong for Damian. But something had changed. I felt it. Something was different.

“I’m alright, Damian.” I comforted him, but his hold does not weaken nor his emotions. My voice sounded weird to me.

“You were asleep for three days—you weren’t healing yourself.” He sobbed, and I felt it, the full extent of his fear. He had thought that I was going to die, the only semblance of love he had. The person he adored so much. The only one he can walk this path with him and yet still care for another individual in this way.

“Healing…” I mumbled breathlessly. I was overwhelmed already with the situation and I realized—healing. My eye twitched and a tear falls and somehow, I found the strength to hug Damian tighter. That was what has changed.

“Your healing has changed.” My father confirms what I already know. “If you let me—” No.

I started wearing a full body suit that is purple close to black with purple accents. I couldn’t heal the same anymore and healing Dick became a long and tedious process.

Damian insisted that I did not have to treat Dick, not at the expense of my health., not after what happened the first time, I attempted to heal Dick. But I love Damian and I want to give him this. I want to give him more.

Love from me was different from love from a family member, and maybe that was why I wanted Dick to be healed for Damian. The family love I could never experience now, cannot be changed. But to Damian who had a taste of it before this shit-show-- can still have a portion of it. And I want to safeguard and give that to him.

I am now part of the league of assassins. I am now Damian’s partner. And despite my father becoming significantly nosier, I am happy with Damian and the league. This happiness is what I am willing to protect. That very moment my father had threatened Damian, I had long decided—I will protect this. Him.

  ~

 I have been with Damian for almost over a year now. The world is left in rubbles after the parademons attacked. Thankfully, nowadays the parademons don’t come in big hordes as they did the first time of the attack. But I suppose it makes sense, there isn’t much to destroy or kill now. Damian has been training me to fit the league’s standards, and he is a rather strict instructor. Sometimes I wonder if he got it from Batman or his grandfather.

Whenever we were training, he would not hold back because of his relationship with me. Something I appreciate because I won’t learn anything if he holds back.  But I also feel his conflict when we train and even more so when he lands a hit on me.

And because he was the leader of the League of Assassins, he felt that he couldn’t even show favoritism towards me. Despite that, he obviously had a soft spot for me. I just can’t help but be charmed by it. His duality was adorable, and yet I knew it was a burden to him, and I try my best to ease him.

Damian could get a little uptight and protective but it stemmed from the fear of losing the only person he had left-- me. And in all honesty, I felt the same exact way. It just so happens that I am willing to do what is necessary to ensure his safety from the one who possesses the most danger—my father, Trigon.

But Damian wasn’t alone, he had Dick. I had reminded Damian that once, and the feelings he felt at that moment made me never mention Dick again in correlation to Damian’s fear of losing me. This past year, I had felt so many awful emotions and situations, but that moment, when I told him he still has Dick and if he lost me--Dick would still be there. That moment—that moment had a nuance that cannot be compared to other awful feelings. Recalling it made me feel like I was falling for a moment. It made me feel guilty.

I look at Damian, whose head was on my lap. We were under the shade of a tree. You could say we were on a date; but these moments were frequent. And as Damian have confided in me, not as special as being able to bring me to dinner to meet his entire family. Or being able to flaunt me to the world, or simply book an entire five-star restaurant just for us two. And I see his point—but I also see that he just missed his family and friends. And that small guilt that he wouldn’t be with me had the situation not turn sour for the entire world. I felt the anger he had for himself for not understanding his feelings sooner and not having the courage to say them.

I stroke his hair; his eyes were closed because this was the few moments he could truly relax. And I understood clearly his desire to show the entire world of the amazing girl he—Damian Wayne—fell hopelessly in-love with. And I froze from stroking his head and I close my eyes.

“You see me too highly, my love.” I couldn’t help but whisper as a gust of wind muffle my words and as I put him on a slightly deeper sleep.

A few days later, Damian and I were alone together doing some reconnaissance. I was ahead of him but we were still at the forest outside the league’s outpost. We have kept parademons at bay with a relatively big radius away from the outpost and right now we were in the safe zone. We also had to distract the parademons from coming closer to the outpost every now and then.

“Raven.” He had called out to me. I turn to look at Damian he was about five meters away from me. I look at him confused.

“I have something to tell you.” He approached me cautiously. I couldn’t help but furrow my brows. A moment ago, I was focus on the recon task and had reinforced my empathetic shield heavily because of it. Despite it almost being two years since the attack, the animosity, grief and hopelessness that plague the world remained, and it can become rather overwhelming for me. The change of tone from Damian baffles me.

“Okay. What is it?” I ask him as I walk towards him. He was making me worried. My father snickers.

“I love you.” He says as he stopped a meter away from me, I took one last step in front of him. I was so confused and worried that I decided I have to put down my empathetic shield. It was the only thing that would bring me peace of mind because his putting me on edge.

“Will you marry me?” He says at the exact time my shield went down. I gasped overwhelmed. I felt his love for me as he said those four words, and I was blind sided by it. It wasn’t what I expected to feel-- or hear. But I felt his overflowing love for me.

“Don’t you dare say yes!” It sounded like a screech and I closed my eyes and tilt my head a bit because of my father.

“I know we are still just teens. I’m still eighteen and your nineteen, but I don’t want anymore regrets.” The love he had for me had turned into fear. And I knew why he was afraid; he had told me about them before.

“I know I said we would keep it slow, and go through us step-by-step to be able to appreciate each other’s company. But we also both feel like were always standing on an edge of a cliff, just waiting to be pushed by strong winds. And I—” His rumbling is stopped as he took in a sharp breath, I could tell he was struggling but I couldn’t help by smile at him with love in my heart that felt like it would burst. “I don’t want to regret not being able to call you my wife.” Hearing those words made me gasp.

Those words, I exhale softly, changed the fear to that same overwhelming intensity of the love he had for me. And I bit my lips trying to contain the tears wanting to fall.

“Don’t you dare!” A scream from my father as I nodded repeatedly, tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t even seem to form the words. Yes. I couldn’t help but put my face into my palms, wanting to hide my pathetic self from Damian.

Overwhelmed. I have used that word so many times and it meant so many different things. But this time, this overwhelming moment—this was more than all the other overwhelming moments I have ever had. This moment—is what I never ever want to forget. The love I feel for this man—I never ever want to forget.

“Raven?” Damian said his breath just above my head, his hands gently pulling my hands away from my face. I look at him and looking into his eyes made me hold my breath. His emotions dancing around me like fireworks. He wipes away my tears and I decided to stop crying.

“Yes.” I whisper and he smiles. I could tell he knew from my reaction that it was a yes as our eyes continue to be locked with one another, more so I could feel he knew my answer. I give him a sudden hug. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes!” I repeat, finding that I need to say those words. Yes.

“Yes.” He whispers into my ear as he embraces me back and does a little spin. I felt his joy and his love—and somehow it became ours. I pulled away from him and collected myself, I wiped away my tears and cleared my throat.

“The-the ring!” He rumbles around his body and I felt his nervousness. “This-this wasn’t how I wanted to propose.” He admits and I can’t help but giggle at his current dorkiness. My heart felt so full.

“But-but as I was looking at your back—I knew I had to ask now. I had everything planned and all.” That was why I could not seem to find him often these last few days. I wondered when he decided that he had to propose marriage to me.

He pulls out a blue velvet box from his pocket and he opens it and there laid a ring. The metal was mostly gold but in the center of the band, there was a thinner line of silver. And there laid an emerald the exact shade as his eyes in seemed to be embedded in the relatively thick band. I glance at him—specifically his eyes to confirm. Yes, exactly his eyes, I look back down at the ring as he pulled it out of the box with his right hand.

The emerald was maybe just less than three centimeters in all sides of its square-like shape, the edges of the square rounded. And I had lifted my left hand as I take the box from him with my right hand. He uses his freed left hand to hold my right hand.

“I was going to kneel down and all.” He says as he slips the ring into my finger. And I chuckled, envisioning Damian pacing as he recites his every move for his proposal. “But I knew that I need to ask now.” And I felt his serenity at the decision, and it took my breath away.

“So, I suppose the recon mission is a ruse?” I look at him and he places a hand behind his neck as he looks away.

“Well, actually we still have to do that.” And I couldn’t help but laugh, it sounded so melodious. I was rather embarrassed by it and so I turned around from Damian and took a few steps and stopped. I was so happy that my laughter could not hide it.

“I suppose you have thought about this right?” I turn around to face Damian and he looks at me questioningly and I pointed to the gem on my forehead. His face twisted and crunched up and I laughed whole-heartedly. He had completely forgotten.

“We-well. I—” He looks away. “I did not get to think of that part yet.” He blushes and I smiled, and I raised my hand still holding the box.

“We can totally make use of this.” I grin as my father yells.

“Well, let’s go, my love.” I turn again. I realized that my father must have been yelling as Damian proposed but I could not recall if he was. I must have been too happy with the turn of events that his voice was completely blocked out.

“I will kill him. Raven.”

“No, Father. I won’t allow it.” I say under my breath.

~

Damian and I were at the underground caves facing each other. On my left was an altar with a huge old book that was opened and facing us. There were two equally old looking candles on either side of the book providing light aside from the candles, there were torches around the cavern.

A silver chalice with some liquid I could not identify in front of the book. And in front of that is the ring Damian used to propose to me on top of a small green cushion. Beside my ring is another ring with a similar style as mine, but bigger and catered for a man with an amethyst instead of an emerald on it. The exact same color as my eyes, I couldn’t help but marvel at the shade.

He wore his league of assassin’s uniform but with a red cape. I was told a little after I arrived, that normally the cape should be green. But Damian opted for the red to pay homage to his robin identity. And I wore the same armor but with a purple cape to pay homage to my hero identity. Starting today this is my new uniform, we were a couple in matching clothes.

Damian sighs and looks at his surroundings. I could feel his disappointment, he glance at Lady Shiva and I could feel the knot on his chest. He continues to gaze at his guests, Titus and Dick being one of them as I observe him. The select were here as witnesses. He looks at me with remorse.

“I know this isn’t much, and not what you deserve but--” I look at him and gave him an encouraging smile. “Writing our names on this book is just as binding as having a marriage certificate. Which in the state of the world we cannot have. Well, I mean we can-- we just can’t have the necessary signatures for legalization, not that there is anyone to process the papers.” He sighs ending his rambling. Probably thinking how foolish he sounded.

“I get to marry you, that is what matters to me.” I say as I reach out for his left hand with my right, fighting the laughter bubbling in me because of how adorable he was and because this was a serious moment. He smiles at me and he leans his forehead on mine, he closes his eyes and I close mine.

“If there is another life, I will get married to you in the grandest way to compensate for this.” I really wanted to laugh at how adorable he is.

“Yes, if there is.” I whispered back and he probably did not think much about it and I place a peck on his lips. He opens his eyes, startled as I pulled my head away from his.

“Damian Al-Ghul,” I say firmly “Wayne.” I whispered so softly. “Marry me.” And his eyes sparkle and he chuckles. He places his name on the book and signs it, and I do the same.

“Our names have been written in the sacred book. This marriage is binding and our witnesses can testify to this union. Our names have been placed with our ancestors and will be seen by our descendants. They will remember our names for they are written within this book. You and I will be remembered for all generations to come. You are an Al-Ghul and you are part of thy legacy.” He recites.

This was one of those moments I get to glimpse the Damian who follows the leagues tradition strictly.

“I have shed my former name and have forgotten who I was. All I am and all I know is—when I had awoken, I am part of thy legacy. I am an Al-Ghul. My ancestors are written within this book and my descendants will know who I am. I have always been and always will be an Al-Ghul.” My father must be screaming but I could not hear him because I warded the gem on my forehead. He was not going to ruin this moment for me.

He takes my ring and places it on my finger and I put his ring on his finger.

“And now, the chalice.” He says as we both reach for the chalice, his hand overlapping mine.

“As you give me blood,” He continues as we brought the chalice to my lips and I took two gulps of the liquid. Azar, I hope this isn’t actually blood. Damian had reassured me this is all formalities, but this does not exactly taste like juice.

“And as I give you blood.” I say as we guide the chalice to his lips and he takes two gulps too, and we both place it down on the altar.

He had said that it was laced with a special aphrodisiac and explained to me the details. It did not have an automatic effect though. The giving of blood was to represent a child born from both parties—but Azar the liquid really did not taste like wine or juice.

“We are now officially married.” He announces to the handful of witnesses. “Now the witnesses will sign on the book.”

After they finished signing the witnesses left to wait with the other members of the league. Damian and I stayed a little bit longer by the altar.

“That was not how I wanted to say my vows.” He sighs and leans his forehead against mine.

“Hmm… I think it was interesting.” I reply. “Slightly cult-ish” He chuckles.

“Raven.” He looks at me intently and pulls his head away by a few inches. He puts his callused hands on either side of my face.

“I love you, and I trust you. I am honored to be called your husband. I am honored to be able to walk this path with you. Words can never express how much I love you.” And I felt his love, I take his hands off of my face and brought them to my chest.

“Damian Wayne.” Silence and I can feel his expectancy. “I can tell you for a fact: that exact feeling you are feeling-- is what I feel for you.” I hear him gasp his lower lip twitching. “I love and trust you as you do—exactly as you do.”

And I could feel that he believes me. Maybe it was because I am an empath and he knew that well. He will always be assured that I feel the same way he does for me—because I actually feel his love for me.

I put my right hand on his cheek and bring him close for a kiss. He kisses be back as he put his right hand on my left cheek. Our left hands still holding one another, the back of his left hand against my beating heart. And I’m sure he can tell how much it was racing. I wonder if he can feel how full it is too.

  ~

 Two years after the attack, Superman with Constantine and Etrigan comes looking for Damian. And I had allowed them to be here, just to tell us that Damian might be the key to turning the tides against Darkseid.

Shit. What am I going to do!

I had said we will think about it instantly after their revelation of their intentions. But—I have to tell him. I arrived at our bedroom and closed the door. My eyes adjusting to the darkness but I walk to the chair I know was facing the door. I have been sleeping in this room long enough to know where everything was with my eyes closed.

In the dark I allow my thoughts to run wild. I was nervous, yes.

“I have something to tell you.” I whisper as I put my forehead against Damian’s.

This was the second time I had repeated the same line, he must be confused.

“Whenever I disappeared whenever we do missions, or when I do solo missions. It’s because I was looking for spells.” And Damian stays quiet allowing me to give my explanation.

“These spells Damain…” I look at him wanting to just cry and scream. “The first ones I learned are ones to block my father, to make sure he does not know what I am doing. And it works, but the main spells I was really looking for, they are for you.” I gaze at him to observe his reaction but he doesn’t look and feel upset. “I had slowly used them on you, when we got married that gave me an opportunity to lay everything down. I could do longer spells. But this spell…” I look away feeling so guilty of what I have done. I feel his callused hands touch mine, and I look at him, and he gave me a smile—he was still not upset. He was just patient.

“The spell.” I continue our eyes locked with one another “It is a very convoluted spell. It covers and overlaps so many factors. It is a spell made of other spells. It is risky and dangerous—” The word made me gasp knowing very well what I had done, but Damian just hugs me. His love for me was still the same despite what I have already said.

“I risked our lives to bind ourselves to each other. I did it to protect you from my father.” He pulls away, and for a moment I was afraid that he was finally upset. I look up at him with wide eyes.  But he just looks down on me with a soft smile.

“If I could, beloved. I would lock you up if that will ensure your safety.” He confesses as he leans his forehead against mine again, his eyes closed. “I told you long ago and repeated it when we got married and after—and despite this revelation—still remains true. I trust you. And will always love you. No matter what.”

“You’ve always been so patient with me.” I tell him as he pulls away again.

“Nonsense, it is you, who have been patient with me.” Again, his adoration for me radiated from him, it was still the same. But the moment Superman told us his plan, I knew that everything has changed. The happy life we have been living has finally come to an end.

“I can never be upset or hate you for what you did. You made a good choice, beloved.” And that was that, on the revelation, Damian had already put his foot down on the matter. He could never be upset over what I had done. I was worried for nothing. I couldn’t help but smile.

“We have to go.” I say.

“Yes.” He replies instantly and a moment of silence is shared between us. We both know what we have to do the moment Superman asked. It was just I had not been completely honest with my precious husband.

“I am glad I proposed to you when I did. I have no regrets, Raven. These past two years felt like we were already married. And being able to make it official, in the only way we could—that makes me the luckiest man in this apocalyptic world.” His gaze on me was gentle.

“I am glad that we got married, my love.” I stroke his jawline with my right thumb. “I was wrong, I thought I could never feel family love after I lost my mother. And I sought out love from my demon of a father as replacement. I had the team-- but it was just ever so slightly different. But now—” I return his gentle gaze.

“Now, I can say: that this was the family love I have been yearning for.” I bring his head closer to mine, and he brings our lips closer. And we shared a passionate kiss.

          ~      ~     ~     ~     ~

“Raven, hurry up we have a new member coming!” I heard Garfield yell from outside my door. I give him a hurried reply and I prepared myself to meet the new member.

“Meet at the yard!” Garfield yells outside my room.

When I got to the yard the Batmobile was coming to view from a far. I felt a tug on my heart, I couldn’t help but frown.

“Is Dick the surprise, Kori?” I couldn’t help but ask. And she looks at me with a smile.

“Of course, not silly! Don’t you remember? Today we are going to take in a new member—I told you all about this a few days ago.” The car had stopped in front of us and the doors opened. I saw black hair and my heart skipped a beat. “The new Robin, Damian.”

A boy with black hair stood before us in his Robin uniform. And my heart couldn’t help but skip a beat. And my eyes couldn’t help but follow a certain person’s black hair.

Part 4: Teaser 

#Damian Wayne #damirae #damirae week 2020 #damirae-week #damian x raven #rachel roth #justice league dark: apokolips war #romance #marriage #prompt #jld: apokolips war #alternate universe #alternate reality story #Robin x Raven #raven al ghul #damian al ghul #league of assassins #demonbirds #teen titans #titan tower

[dudeandduchess]

Your Kyojuro imagines are absolutely amazing! You have a great writing style, and put so much detail into everything. Pure gold! I hope you don't mind me asking, but could I request a Kyojuro x reader too? Maybe him falling for a time travel reader form the future? (whether its accidental travel or not idc) Please and thank you. Gonna go back to binging your work now, hope your day has been good 💕

Hello, bby! Thank you so, so much! I’m so flattered that you think of my writing like that. Ahhhh! Ooh, I don’t mind at all. I hope you like it! I may or may not have cried while writing this.

***

Kyōjurō with a Time Traveling Reader (SFW Scenario):

Warning: Angst. Bittersweet (???) Ending

Out of all the places that she could have been on a weekend, the last place she expected to have been dragged to was the Shinto graveyard where her family’s plot resided.

It had been years since she last visited the grim burial site, and for good reason: she didn’t like being surrounded by so much negative energy. Souls tended to cling tightly to her, especially when they knew that she could see them.

And that was the last thing she wanted to happen. Not again; not after the last incident where a spirit followed her home.

However, no matter how much she wanted to tell her mother that she wasn’t interested in cleaning up her ancestors’ graves, she couldn’t. Because she wanted to keep her head, thank you very much.

So, when (Y/n) finally arrived at her family’s burial plot, the first thing she noticed was the ornate box that rested at the foot of the obelisk. “What’s with the box?”

“Oh that. Another family gave it to us years ago. Apparently, their great-great-great uncle wanted someone from our clan to have it,” Her mother answered flippantly, before beginning to unload all of the cleaning supplies she’d brought in her bag.

All throughout the day, the young woman listened to her mother hem and haw at the most trivial topics. They cleaned every inch of the grave, but all the while she kept looking back at the box and consistently thought about what it could have held inside.

“What’s inside? Did you check?” She asked once more, when she couldn’t take the curiosity burning inside her.

It was as if the contents of the box kept calling out to her. So she had to know what was in it. Something was compelling her to open it, but she wasn’t going to defile a family heirloom if the contents would have been something not worthy of her time.

“Oh, just a very eccentric, flame-like haori... and a letter to an unnamed woman,” The older (L/n) answered with a smile. “Whomever that woman was in our family, she was one lucky girl. To have someone love you that much... not even your father was as sweet.”

A flame-like haori? She had never seen one before, but something deep in her mind told her that she had. In some other place, and a completely different time, she had seen someone who wore that haori with pride.

But why did she feel like that? She was just twenty-one; on the cusp of becoming twenty-two. Surely the earliest signs of aging didn’t come in until thirty five.

“Can I have a look at it?” She ended up asking her mother.

And when her mother nodded her assent, (Y/n) immediately took the box into her lap and lifted the lid.

Lo and behold, the sight of a neatly folded haori greeted her eyes. She carefully lifted it out of the box, as the cloth looked to be worn down— even in its pristine condition; as pristine as it could get, anyway.

But the moment she had completely unfurled it, everything went black.

***

And when she came to, she was not in a graveyard anymore.

Instead, high wooden beams greeted her when she opened her eyes. She was also tucked beneath a thick comforter— and in place of the jeans and shirt that she wore was a yukata.

“Oh good, you’re finally awake. Please stay where you are. I’ll call aniki,” A little boy with the craziest eyebrows that she’d ever seen— who couldn’t have been more than ten— greeted her happily.

Even though his eyebrows were the initial things that garnered her attention, her mind lingered on his term: ‘Aniki’.

Was she somehow kidnapped by a gang? Her family wasn’t rich, nor did she have a highly sought-after job, so it was highly unlikely for a gang to take interest in her.

But before she could sit upright and call out to the kid, he was already gone. And when he came back, he had with him a man who looked so handsome that he made (Y/n)’s mouth go dry.

The enigmatic man looked too handsome for words, and the smile that played at his lips only served to add more to his charm.

It didn’t take a genius to know that he’d immediately caught her attention: hook, line, and sinker.

“Who are you? What am I doing here? Did you kidnap me? What do you want from me? And what in the world are you wearing? Are you a soldier?” Her questions flew at rapid pace from her lips, which the man received with ease. His smile never even faltered, while his brother slowly hid behind him.

“One question at a time, beautiful flower.” In any other setting, the words would have made her swoon, but it just further threw (Y/n) through a loop.

“One minute I was cleaning a grave with my mother, and the next I’m here. But where exactly is here?”

“Here? You’re in Matsusaka.”

The young woman’s eyes almost bugged out of her head at that. “How did I get here? I was in Sendai earlier! What did you do?”

That seemed to bring pause to her host’s thoughts, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he mulled her words over in his mind. “I found you unconscious in the middle of a rice field. A cow was eating your hair.”

Immediately, (Y/n) ran a hand through her hair, only to notice that it was noticeably choppier than before. “W-what about my clothes. What did you do to my clothes?”

“You were already wearing that yukata when I found you.”

A sigh of relief crossed the woman’s lips, because she could rest assured that no one had changed her in her sleep. Unless her apparent savior was lying.

But after careful explanation, (Y/n) finally found out that she wasn’t only transported miles away from her home, but to an entirely different era. From the Reiwa Era, she had been thrown back to the Taishō Era.

Her concerns were immediately made more evident to her, like how to get home, and how to tell her mother that she was fine, and where to begin with the search for getting back home.

But her greatest dilemma was something that she didn’t want to admit outright: she was falling in love with the man who’d saved her— Rengoku Kyōjurō.

He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man, and so much more. On top of that, he was kind enough to let her stay at his home— even though his father was very leery of her.

Despite all of that though, he still treated her like she was something to truly behold. He always reminded her to get some rest whenever she got tired, and he would constantly send her letters when he was away.

It was his handsome façade that drew her to him at first, but it was ultimately his caring nature that made her feelings stay.

And more often than not, she always found them acting like lovers. She knew that it was unwise to have kept acting that way, but she couldn’t resist.

It had started with simple lingering touches, until it escalated into hand holding, then kissing... and then so much further than that. She’d given him all that there was to her, yet they had never confirmed their feelings.

There was just a mutual understanding between them. Because both of them knew that (Y/n) would eventually have to leave.

(Y/n) knew that it was wrong of her to do so, but she found herself wishing to never return to her old life— if it meant growing old and building a family with Kyōjurō.

But one night, (Y/n) was awoken to an ill feeling in her gut. She immediately sat upright, which woke Kyōjurō from his own slumber.

Her throat was tight, and her heart felt like it was being held in a vise-like grip. The edges of her vision were turning blurry with the lack of oxygen in her lungs, but she tried to push through the feeling— and failed.

Something inside her told her that that was it; it was time for her to leave.

It wasn’t even the physical pain that had her breaking down in tears, all while Kyōjurō held her in his arms. He picked her up gently, and was about to run out of the house to take her somewhere... anywhere that could help her, but he was brought to a halt when the bitter realization dawned on him:

No one would know how to help (Y/n).

It was the first time in Kyōjurō’s life that he’d felt helpless; and it wasn’t a good feeling at all. Especially when the woman in his arms started to slowly fade away; as if she was never meant to exist in his world.

Because that was the truth. She didn’t belong in his time. She never did.

He couldn’t even tell her that he loved her.

He didn’t even realize that he was crying, until he opened his mouth to speak and all that came out was a strangled sob.

But it was too late for him to say the words, because (Y/n) was no longer in his arms.

***

When (Y/n) came to, she had found herself clutching the flame-like haori to her chest, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

And with one shaky hand, she let go of the aged cloth to pick up the neatly folded letter that had fallen to the floor.

Part of her didn’t want to open it knowing that it had always been meant for her, but another part of her wanted to read her beloved Kyōjurō’s words. She wanted to know what he had to say.

So she opened the frayed piece of paper, and what she read brought more tears to her eyes.

Hello My Beautiful Flower,

Wipe those tears away, my love. Please. I’ve always loved seeing your smile; so please, smile for me. After all, it’s what has gotten me through my days ever since that night.

I’m a man with very few regrets, but the one thing I’ve regretted the most was not telling you how much I loved you. From the very first moment I saw you in that field, I knew I was in trouble of falling so deeply for you.

Please, always remember that wherever you might be... and wherever we both may end up, I will always be with you. I promise you that I will always look after you, wherever my next life takes me.

Whether it takes me my next life, or my next hundred lives, I will always come back to you. Because my heart is eternally yours. You keep the flame inside me burning so strongly.

Our time together may have been short, but my love for you transcends time and space; and it will always remain that way.

Forever Yours,

Kyōjurō

#kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku x reader #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer requests #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba rengoku #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #jen writes

[finalfantasyandnerdiness]

da capo al fine

For eternal beings, the ebbs and flows of time mean very little. Whatever happens, the world will keep moving forward, and so will they. No end. No beginning. For a human, though? Every second counts.

Every word.

Every decision.

A mortal with the power to turn back time is a fearsome creature, because a mortal cares – and if they decide that they’re going to find a timeline where everyone they love survives, they will do whatever it takes to make it happen. Even if it means abusing a power that was never meant to be theirs.

A Fire Emblem Three Houses retelling where everybody lives, basically. Also: Dimileth. 

Read on Ao3

For eternal beings, the ebbs and flows of time mean very little. Whatever happens, the world will keep moving forward, and so will they. No end. No beginning. For a human, though? Every second counts.

Every word.

Every decision.

A mortal with the power to turn back time is a fearsome creature, because a mortal cares – and if they decide that they’re going to find a timeline where everyone they love survives, they will do whatever it takes to make it happen. Even if it means abusing a power that was never meant to be theirs.

*

“You. How long do you intend to sleep?”

Byleth opens her eyes. A young girl she vaguely recognizes stares down at her from a throne of stone. Her eyes, as eerily green as her hair, are expectant and clearly annoyed.

Where am I? Byleth shakes her head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs clouding her mind. Who am I?

“Get on your feet. Right now!” the girl snaps. “You are just like a child, always needing me to hold your hand…” She sighs. “This is the last time, you hear me? No more restarts. This is it.”

Byleth has no idea what any of it means, but she still nods.

The girl’s face softens. “Make it count.”

*

The first seconds are always the worst. Byleth never gets used to those terrifying moments where her entire being is a blank slate. She knows she’s supposed to recognize the bearded man in front of her, but he could just as well have been a complete stranger. Then, it clicks. Everything falls into place. He’s her father. She’s a mercenary. And, most importantly, she’s been here before.

*

Even though most of Byleth’s memories are blurry, the ones about the three heirs are always crystal clear. One look is all it takes to remember their tragic fates. Blue eyes, full of barely restrained hatred. Green eyes, sharp as a blade. Violet eyes, burning with determination. Three young rulers, destined to tear each other apart.

Not this time. Byleth looks at them, one by one, treasuring the innocence they will all inevitably lose. She’s lived through this chain of events more times than she can remember, getting closer and closer to her goal just to see a seemingly insignificant detail turn her dream to dust. Not this time, though. Sothis has given her one last chance, and she won’t let it go to waste.

This time, they will all live.  

*

To the boys’ obvious disappointment, Byleth chooses to join the house of the Black Eagles. The three heirs are all suspicious by nature, but Edelgard easily takes the crown. Edelgard trusts no one but herself, which isn’t that surprising considering her only experience with friendship comes from a man who can’t get through a single sentence without mentioning blood. She’s hidden her heart away behind walls as impenetrable as her armor, doing her best to smother the fear and loneliness that lures within her. To bring the true Edelgard out of her shell takes time. Lots, and lots of time. So Byleth picks the Black Eagles, and tries not to notice the flash of darkness in Dimtri’s eyes.

*

Dimitri is young. So very young. He’s yet to grow into the inhuman strength he’ll one day wield with ease, still grinning awkwardly every time he accidentally breaks another training sword. He’s a prince, charming and polite, the definition of picture perfect. No one has any idea what hides behind that flawless smile.

Yet.

Byleth sees the way he looks at her, how his gaze lingers when she swings her blade on the training grounds. Their eyes meet. Her body instinctively reacts, but she forces herself to ignore it. Chronologically, he’s only three years younger than her, but he’s still a kid. Her conflicted heart, however, still remembers the king.

Her life would have been so much easier if she hadn’t fallen in love with him all those lifetimes ago. He forgets. She doesn’t.

*

Before Garreg Mach, Byleth used to think of herself as a fairly unemotional person. People called her the Ashen Demon for a reason. She didn’t really get people, and people didn’t really get her either. Then, she met her students, and everything changed. Now, she cares a lot, and it’s more tiring than she ever could have imagined.

“There we go again,” she mutters to herself as she watches Raphael and Caspar race through the courtyard, up to goddess knows what. She loves them both with all her heart, but critical thinking is not one of their virtues. To be frank, neither is thinking, period. She sighs and hurries after them. She has no idea what they’re going to break this time—a plate, a nose, a window—but they’re definitely breaking something.

*

Byleth has just left her private quarters to head to class when she nearly crashes into Seteth.

“Professor. There’s an… issue, we need to talk about.”

Of course there is. She sighs internally. Sometimes, she wishes she could just skip past certain conversations. She’s gone through this particular one so many times by now that she practically knows every line by heart.

Seteth clears his throat. “Due to your unexpectedly extraordinary tutoring skills, nearly all of this year’s students have requested to transfer to your class. While the feat in itself is admirable, it has led to some unfortunate consequences. Hanneman and Manuela now only share four students between them, and I’ve heard that your classroom is running out of desks. It’s not a very efficient way to run a school.”

“I agree.”

Seteth blinks in surprise. “You do?”

She nods. “I’ve given it some thought, and I think the best solution would be to separate the professors from their assigned houses.”

“That’s a preposterous—”

“The houses themselves would remain, of course,” she quickly adds. “I only propose that we rethink the way we hold our classes. The three of us have different areas of expertise, and we could use that to our advantage if we split up the classes by subject instead of houses.”

“I see.” Seteth hesitates, furrowing his brow. “It’s an unorthodox idea, but… I do see the benefits of your proposal. It could be… efficient. I will get back to you once I have discussed this with Rhea.”

Byleth nods again. Rhea will, albeit reluctantly, say yes, because when Seteth finds something that can be described as efficient, he will make it happen. The classes will be split up between the three professors, and Byleth will get the chance to tutor all the students – including those stubborn last four.

She’s not losing them again.

*

At the night of the ball, Byleth makes sure that it’s the students of the Blue Lions house who make the promise to reunite in five years. Their carefree laughter makes her stomach turn. They have no idea what fate she’s just bound them to.

Dimitri’s smile hurts the most, but she goes through with it anyway. She needs him to be there when she wakes up.

*

Even though Byleth knows it’s hopeless, she still always tries to save Jeralt.

Losing him never stops hurting.

*

“Thanks for letting me borrow your old man’s diary, Teach,” Claude says.

Byleth snatches the notebook out of his hands. “You would have stolen it anyway if I’d said no.”

“Me? Stealing?” He grins, placing a hand on his chest. “Your lack of faith in my moral compass wounds me.”

Byleth raises her eyebrows.

Claude sighs, his façade flickering. “All joking aside, I have to admit that some of the stuff in there is pretty hard to swallow – especially the parts about you. I’ve got so many questions, and I doubt you’ll ever answer a single one of them.” His eyes twinkle. “You sure know how to drive a guy crazy, Teach.”

Byleth shrugs. His obvious frustration doesn’t bother her – not anymore. He’ll eventually figure everything out anyway, with or without her answers. He just doesn’t know it yet.

*

She loves all her students. She really does. But sometimes, she can’t help but think that if Ferdinand yells out his name one more time, she’s going to strangle him.

*

“It’s not my place to question your way of tutoring, but I do feel the need ask you about the attendance record of one of your students,” Seteth says. “Linhardt von Hevring has been absent from nearly half of your classes this month, and I’ve noticed a lack of disciplinary actions. I would recommend stable duty or—”

“He’s doing important research,” Byleth interrupts. “As long as he keeps passing his tests, I don’t see any reason not to encourage it.”

“Well… I suppose I will have to trust your judgment, Professor.” Judging by his frown, he’s clearly not trusting it at all.  

Byleth nods. She doesn’t blame Seteth for being skeptical. She would probably have doubted Linhardt too if she hadn’t known just how important that research would be to give some of her students a chance to grow old.

*

While the inferno of hatred that sometimes flares up in Dimitri’s eyes is undeniably terrifying, it doesn’t scare Byleth nearly as much as the cold apathy in Rhea’s.

*

A high-pitched shriek echoes over the monastery. People start looking for its source with obvious concern, but Byleth just smiles a little to herself. The boys of the Black Eagles house always figure out sooner or later that the only way to get Bernie out of her comfort zone is to literally carry her out of it.

*

Every now and then, Byleth slips. She tries to keep everything in the right order, to remember what she’s supposed to know and what’s yet to be revealed, but her memory is far from infallible. Most of the time, no one mentions her little accidents. She’s a strategist, after all. Predicting things is a part of her job description. Some slips, though, are too obvious to go unnoticed.

“Professor… Did you just call me El?”

Byleth groans internally. Yes, she most certainly did. It’s late, she’s tired, and she just casually used a nickname the heiress would never, ever, share with a professor she barely knows.    

“No one has called me that since I was a kid. Those who once did are long gone.” Edelgard’s eyes narrow. “How did you know?”

“My apologies,” Byleth says. “I just thought it suited you. I won’t use it again.”

“No… I quite like it.” While the suspicion still lingers in Edelgard’s gaze, a small smile graces her lips. “Please, keep calling me El. I’m not sure why, but I enjoyed hearing you say it.”

Byleth nods. “If that’s the case, I will.”

“Good.” A hint of shyness sweeps over the future emperor’s face. “Thank you, my teacher. It may not seem like much, but it means a lot to me.”

The next time Byleth uses that name, it’s not by accident.

*

Felix’ digs at Dimitri are as sharp as his blade, and so is the resentment in eyes. Dimitri takes the insults without blinking. Their friendship is laced with a burning hatred they both believe is justified. It’s painful to watch, especially considering how easily the swordsman would give his life to protect his childhood friend. He never hesitates. Not even once.

*

“You fool! What were you thinking, charging right into an enemy’s trap? Again?” Sothis’ sharp voice echoes against the stone walls. “Are you just a boulder rolling down whatever hill it’s on? No, even a boulder has more sense!”

Byleth lowers her eyes. Her least favorite part of the cycles may be the first awakening, but this is the one Sothis dreads the most. Not surprising, considering that this is where the goddess has to disappear. It’s inevitable, though, even if she doesn’t run head first into Solon’s spell. Sooner or later they always end up here, facing the same decision over and over again. Sothis always makes the same choice.

“Thank you,” Byleth whispers. “For everything.”

Byleth reaches out her hand, and the power of the goddess seeps into her soul.  

*

Callused hands gently stroke her bangs out of her face. Her consciousness is fading, but she doesn’t need to see to know whose hand it is. She would recognize that touch anywhere.

“Sorry, Professor,” Dimitri says. “I have no choice but to carry you back.”

*

Byleth raises her eyebrows as Sylvain limps into the training grounds. “Ingrid?”

“Yes.” He awkwardly scratches the back of his head.

“Did you deserve it?”

After a moment of hesitation, he sighs. “Yes.”

*

The sight of Edelgard’s coronation is as breathtaking as it is terrifying. The ceremony marks the beginning of a nationwide bloodbath, but Byleth still can’t look away from the blinding beauty that is Emperor Edelgard with a golden crown on her head.

*

A cacophony of rattling armor and frantic prayers fills the monastery. The moment Byleth hoped to avoid is once again taking place before her eyes. She leans against the railing of the third floor balcony. In the distance she sees Edelgard’s army gathering, preparing for the first battle of the war that will tear Fódlan apart.  

It can’t be stopped now. It’s too late. Byleth’s time ran out the moment Edelgard’s betrayal set Dimitri’s dormant fury aflame. The war is happening. Her only option now is damage control.

“Hey, Teach.”

Byleth flinches. Even after countless cycles of nearly identical events, she’s still caught off guard every now and then – especially when Claude is involved. He’s turned unpredictability into an artform.  

Claude moves to her side. His calculating eyes roam over the area below. His expression and posture radiate confidence, but his desperate grip on the railing has already turned his knuckles white.

“It can’t be stopped now,” he says, echoing Byleth’s thoughts. “Neither of those two will ever allow the other to live. There’s going to be a war, and it’s not going to be pretty.”

“So much death.” Byleth’s voice cracks. She’s seen it happen before, and now she’s going to have to see it again. She knew, but she still couldn’t stop it.

“You don’t have to go down with them, you know.” Claude sends her a quick glance before turning back to the soon-to-be battlefield. “This is their feud, not yours. I mean, just consider it. Someone’s got to protect the people in this mess, and that someone could definitely use that strategic brain of yours.”

“And in this scenario, that ‘someone’ is you?”

“If the shoe fits.” Claude shrugs. “I don’t care about who wins this war. I have a vision, and that vision would be pretty useless if there was no one left in Fódlan to see it. What do you say? Have I won you over yet?” A grin tugs at his lips. “You’d make a good Deer.”

She would.

She has.

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” He tilts his head to the side. “Too fond of the kinglinesses, eh?”

She hesitates for a moment before deciding to, for once, tell the truth. “You’ll survive this war, with or without my guidance. You don’t need me. Not like they do.”

“Careful there, Teach. You’re starting to sound like you can predict the future.” His gaze sharpens. “Did you know that the Battle of the Eagle and Lion still keeps me up at night? I go over every move I made, every detail of my strategy, and how you managed to see through it all. It’s been driving me crazy – crazy enough to consider the possibility of you being some kind of mind reader. But that’s not it, is it?” He gives her a dangerous grin that almost reaches his eyes. “Come on, Teach, give a curious guy some peace of mind. I don’t kiss and tell.”

“If I told you, you’d never let me go.”

Her words clearly catch Claude off guard, which is a sight very few ever get to witness. For a moment he looks like he’s going to jokingly deny her claim, but in the end he just sighs. “I’d use you.”

She nodded. “And you’d end up hating yourself for it.”

“Fair enough.”

Claude studies her face, the cogs of his brilliant mind turning. His charming trickster façade flickers, revealing a taste of the unstoppable man he will one day become. “Let’s say you’re right, Teach. Maybe I don’t need you by my side to make my vision come true. Doesn’t mean I don’t want you there.”

Memories of wild wyvern rides, uncontrollable laughter, and pearls of sweat on copper skin flashes before her eyes. Heat rushes to her cheeks. He blinks.

“Oh, I get it.” The lighthearted tone in his voice clashes wildly against the intensity in his eyes. “There’s a version of this, whatever this is, where you choose me, isn’t there? One where you and I…?”

“Maybe.” She gives him a melancholic smile. “Just… not this one.”

*

Byleth knows she has to fall. She has to take that final blow that sends her down into the abyss. It’s the only way to make things turn out the way she wants to. She knows that, but she’s still just as terrified when the darkness claims her.

*

“You… how long do you intend to sleep? Get on your feet. Right now!”

*

The stairs leading up to the ruins of the old monastery are littered with butchered corpses. Carefully minding her steps, Byleth continues forward, heading towards the place where she knows she’ll find the wretched shell of the boy she abandoned when he needed her the most.

He’s on the floor, leaning heavily on his lance to stay upright. His pale skin is stained with blood. The dark circle surrounding his one remaining eye has the color of a bruise. Sweat, mud, wounds, scars – his handsome face is covered in layers upon layers of suffering. The guilt hits her in the stomach like a sledgehammer. Even though she always knows what awaits her at the end of her five-year slumber, she’s never prepared for that first sight of the haunted creature that used to be Dimitri.

Her dream comes with many sacrifices, and this is the one where Dimitri pays the price. The king that Fódlan so desperately needs can only rise from the ruins of a broken prince.

The prince in front of her is about as broken as a man can be.  

Byleth knows he won’t accept her hand, but she still reaches out for him. She always does. And it always breaks her heart when he turns away.

“I should have known that one day you would be haunting me as well.”

*

The abandoned monastery springs back to life as its former teachers and students return. One by one they enter Garregh Mach, all of them bringing a shard of joy and a small shimmer of hope. Byleth smiles as she watches a highly frustrated Lysithea try to put a book back on a shelf she clearly can’t reach. Her smile widens even more when Raphael enters the library. She knows exactly where the situation is heading, and she never grows tired of watching her former students get into ridiculous fights over absolute nonsense.

Her happiness is genuine, but it’s also bittersweet. This is where the tricky part begins.  

*

“Leave it to me,” Byleth yells as she crosses the battlefield, heading towards the trembling silver-haired foe. It’s not a very strategic decision, but no one questions her. Maybe they’re all relieved they won’t have to be the one dealing the final blow against the sweetest boy to ever grace the Officers Academy.  

*

When Dorothea dances, she enthralls everyone around her. No one, friend nor foe, can look away. They see a rose in bloom: beautiful, delicate, and full of life. She doesn’t. No matter how many times Byleth tries to convince her otherwise, the songstress still only sees herself as petals slowly falling to the ground, leaving nothing but thorns.

*

Byleth is well aware of the location where Rhea is kept prisoner, but she still pretends to be just as concerned as the rest of the archbishop’s loyal supporters. She holds on to her worried façade with an iron grip, because keeping Rhea locked up is the only way to prevent her from crushing Byleth’s plan before it’s even started.

Though they’d never admit it themselves, Dimitri, Edelgard and Claude share a fairly similar vision. The three of them fight for a unified Fódlan, where the strong will no longer prey on the weak. In a world like that, there’s no place for a power-hungry demigoddess. Byleth knows it, and so does Rhea.

*

A part of Byleth hates Dimitri with her entire being during his feral phase. Another part still loves him just as intensely. Her exasperated frustration is, however, always present, because spending hours upon hours on building a strategy around a murder machine with zero sense of self-perseverance makes her want throw the prince off a damn roof.

She finds him in the cathedral as always, muttering morbid nonsense about ghosts and heads being ripped off their shoulders. While she doesn’t usually agree with Felix when he calls the prince a wild boar, she has to admit that approaching Dimitri when he’s like this feels a bit like cornering a wounded animal – an animal with a very bad temper and very sharp claws.

“Dimitri,” she says softly. “We need to talk.”

Dimitri slowly turns around. Despite everything that’s happened to him, he still moves with the proud confidence of a ruler. He stands tall before her, his broad shoulders blocking the evening’s last rays of sunlight trickling in from the windows. The resentment in his single eye is merciless.

“Leave.”

“No.” She raises her chin. “Your army expects me to guide them through this war, and I can’t do that if you continue to disregard my orders. The stunt you pulled today with those bandits… You’re going to get yourself killed, and you’re taking everyone down with you. I can’t allow that.”

“You can’t allow that?” His cold chuckle sends a shiver down her spine. “Who do you think you are, giving orders to the walking corpse of your prince?”

He takes a step forward, and despite her feigned confidence, she takes a step back. A grave mistake. He continues forward, and she continues to back away. The wounded animal has caught the scent of blood.

Her back hits the wall. He places a hand next to her head and leans forward, caging her in. She’s fast and clever, but he’s got more raw strength than a mere human should ever possess. She would never defeat him in hand-to-hand combat, and they both know it.

“If you do not approve of what I have become, then kill me”, he says. “If you insist that you cannot… then I will continue to use you and your friends until the flesh falls from your bones.”

She swallows hard, but refuses to look away. Her courage might be wavering, but her resolve is not. “I’m not afraid of you, Dimitri.”

“You should be.” His gloved hand slowly traces her arm, her shoulder, her collarbone, until finally coming to a rest on her neck. His thumb caresses the vulnerable skin of her throat before giving it a light squeeze. “Don’t you dare pity me, Professor. We’re the same, you and I. After all is said and done, we are both murderers. Both stained. Both monsters.”

“Yes,” she whispers. “We are.”

His pauses. For the first time since their reunion, he truly looks at her. His trembling exhalation tells her he’s finally noticed it – her longing, her yearning, her need – and he snaps. His lips crash into hers. She melts into his ruthless touch, returning the kiss with a desperation matching his.

She’s back.

She’s home.

He pulls back, his eye roaming her face with childlike wonder. To her, this is just one of the countless kisses they’ve already shared, but to him, it’s their first – and, as far as he knows, possibly their last. A moan escapes her lips as he grabs the back of her thighs and hoists her up. His grip tightens to the point where it will most certainly leave bruises. He clings to her like a man on the verge of drowning.

“I won’t leave you again, Dimitri,” she says, entangling her fingers in his hair as his lips wander down her throat. “I swear it.”

“Good.” He bites down hard on the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, a place where neither her hair nor her clothes would hide the mark. She can’t see his face, but she feels his feral grin against her skin. “I do not intend to let you go.”

*

Manuela and Hanneman have been bickering for nearly half an hour when Sylvain walks by their table in the dining hall. He pauses mid-step and leans down.

“You’re aware that everyone knows you’re sleeping with each other, right?”

Hanneman gasps. Manuela screams. Ingrid kicks Sylvain in the shin.

*

Some sacrifices are uglier than others. Rodrigue’s death, as necessary as it is, might be the ugliest one of them all.

*

“Your hands are so warm… Have they always been?”

The last remains of the broken prince is washed away by the pouring rain. The king rises.

*

One day, Mercedes drags a reluctant Death Knight into the monastery. She smiles proudly, reminding Byleth of a child that’s about to ask her parents if she can keep the stray cat she just found in the gutter. Byleth can’t deny the value of Jeritza’s skills, so he stays. On the battlefield, she appreciates his presence. Everywhere else, she’s ambiguous at best. She tries to believe Mercedes when she claims that her brother is just a little bit misunderstood, but he’s not making it easy. Not even once during her countless lifetimes has she managed to get share a cup of tea with the knight without receiving a poetic confession of how badly he wants to stab her in the chest.

*

Byleth is never as calm as when she’s lying in Dimitri’s arms, listening to the soft thuds of his beating heart. She can’t help but wonder what it’s like to have a ticking little machine in your chest that keeps you alive. According to Dimitri, people usually don’t even think about it. It’s just there. She wonders if she would get used to it too, if her heart ever were to start beating.

She highly doubts it.

*

Sylvain pauses mid-step as he passes Dimitri and Byleth in the dining hall. He smirks.

“You’re aware that everyone knows you’re—”

Ingrid clocks him in the head with a plate.

*

Byleth hates Gronder Field.

*

“If you’re going to lead Fódlan, then the Alliance lords will follow you.” Claude hands Dimitri his bow. The former leader of the Alliance is limping a little, but overall, he seems to have gotten through the battle more or less unharmed. He always does. It’s like his plans have so many backup plans that not even death itself can keep track of what’s going on.  

“I’ve played my part now,” he continues. “Right, Teach?”

“You have,” Byleth says. “Thank you for trusting us.” Wordlessly, she adds, Thank you for trusting me.

“I knew you’d come. You’re a bunch of soft-hearted suckers after all.” Claude winks, and wordlessly replies, Always.

“Go to Almyra. Make your vision come true, Kha—” She bites her tongue, but the slip is already out. “Claude. Make your vision come true, Claude.”

“Your wish is my command.” He gives her a sarcastic little bow, keeping eye contact through the entire movement. His grin has a knowing edge. “Too bad I’ll never get to experience that other version, eh? I bet it was a fun one.”

Byleth smiles. “It was.”  

*

Hilda manages to break an impressive amount of hearts – and furniture – during the few days she stays at the monastery before jumping back up on her wyvern to follow Claude to Almyra.

*

This is it.

Byleth clenches her trembling fists as Edelgard walks up to Dimitri. For the first time in many, many years, the two of them speak in earnest. Their conversation is calm and sensible, dancing around the unavoidable for as long as they can. Eventually, they reach the point of no return. They share the same vision, but they both conclude that their methods are too disparate to coexist.  

In every other timeline, this is where Byleth loses. Dimitri and Edelgard go their separate ways, and one of them winds up dead. She takes a deep breath. Not this time.

“Neither of you will see your dream come true unless we defeat Those Who Slither in the Dark.” She looks at a highly skeptical Edelgard, and then turn her gaze to a very confused Dimitri. This is the moment she’s been preparing for since she first laid eyes on the three heirs. This is why she spent so much effort on returning lost items, organizing choir practices, and saving money for expensive tea. This is it.

“Do you trust me?”

*

The temporary truce between the Holy Kingdom and the Empire is anything but pretty. The wounds each side have caused the other are too deep to heal with a simple common goal. What they all share, though, is their loyalty to their respective leader – and their leaders have decided to put their faith in their old professor.

Together, they prepare for their march to Shambhala.

*

An unavoidable side effect of the truce is the liberation of Rhea.

If Rhea knows Byleth’s true feelings, she doesn’t show it. The demigoddess keeps giving Byleth that serene smile, treating her like a companion, a mother, and a daughter all at once. Byleth plays along, because she knows all too well how Rhea reacts when someone questions her authority. It always ends with fire. Lots, and lots of fire.

Byleth keeps up her dangerous act, because Rhea can’t show her true face yet. Those Who Slither in the Dark must be defeated before the world burns.

*

“You never told me about Those Who Slither in the Dark,” Dimitri murmurs, softly stroking Byleth’s hair. “Why would you hide such a thing from me?”

“If I’d told you, you would have gone after them yourself.” She presses a kiss to his jaw before settling back down on his chest. Her body relaxes to the sound of his heartbeats. “We wouldn’t have made it on our own.”

A lie, of course, but it’s a white one.

He sighs. “Even now, after all this time, you are still a mystery to me. My beloved, will you ever entrust me with your secrets?”

“When all of this is over, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Truth.

*

Edelgard grabs Byleth’s arm and pulls her to the side. “For as long as the Church of Seiros controls Fódlan, this war will never end,” she says in a low voice. “I will continue down this path until the people of this land are free to decide their own fates. I have devoted my life to destroying the blood-stained cycle the church so desperately wishes to uphold. Defeating Those Who Slither in the Dark will not lead me astray.”

“I know.”

They stand in silence for a while, watching the army close in on the underground city.

“Will you go back to them, once this battle is over? To him?” Edelgard lowers her eyes. “You were once like family to me. I do not regret my decision to start this war, but I cannot help but wonder how things would have been if I’d walked down this path with you by my side.”

Better, yet so much worse.  

After making sure no one’s listening, Byleth leans closer. “I want the cycle to end, too, El. So does Dimitri.”

“A highborn person like him will never understand the struggles of the poor and weak.” Edelgard scoffs. “He believes they cannot survive without their faith, that it’s their useless prayers to a goddess who will never answer that keep them alive. He claims to speak on the behalf of the people, yet he still refuses to let go of the system that is causing this injustice. Do you truly believe that he will change his mind, my teacher? That a man like him can ever see the truth?”

“I hope so. Just like I hope that you, once this is over, will see that you both share the same vision.”

“That’s a dangerous gamble, even for a strategist like you.” She snorts, her eyes glittering with amusement. “But then again, I do remember the days when you used to make plans based entirely on lucky hits.”

*

Byleth has never seen anything as terrifying or as beautiful as Dimitri and Edelgard fighting side by side. Power, grace, speed, skill – together, the two rulers are unstoppable. Edelgard gives Dimitri a short nod when Areadbhar blocks an enemy blade moments before it slashes her side. Dimitri’s lips twitch when she returns the favor, her shield blocking an arrow aimed at his chest.

In perfect synchronization, they both fall back as they reach their final foe. With the Emperor and the King guarding her back, Byleth raises the Sword of the Creator.

Thales falls.

*

“So, uh, are we still at war or what?” Caspar asks, casting nervous glances left and right as the army leaves the ruins of Shambhala.

Linhardt yawns. “I have no idea.”

In all honesty, neither did Byleth.

*

Back at Garreg Mach, Rhea, still affected by her years of imprisonment, once again tries to entrust Byleth with the leadership of the Church of Seiros. The demigoddess eyes turn cold when Byleth declines.

“The world is changing, Seiros,” Byleth says. “Humanity is rising up. Fódlan belongs to its people, and It’s time for the children of Sothis to let go.”

Rhea reacts just like Byleth knew she would. A guttural roar pierces the tense silence of the monastery.

The world burns.  

*

The crest stones within the soldiers and monks of the Church of Seiros react to the Immaculate One’s calls, and soon, the monastery is crawling with mindless beasts. The two armies are once again forced to work together, and so is Dimitri and Edelgard. Putting their grudge back on pause, the two of them raise their weapons against the feral creature that used to be Rhea.

Out of all of Byleth’s battles against the Immaculate One, this should have been the easiest one. With two armies instead of one, she was certain the odds were in their favor – but, as always, it turns out there’s a detail she’s overlooked.  

With Dimitri’s and Edelgard’s strength combined, Those Who Slither in the Dark went down much faster than Byleth predicted. Thales never managed to summon his javelins of light. Rhea never took that almost lethal hit to save them all.

This version of the Immaculate One, worn-out but mostly unharmed, is the strongest one Byleth has ever faced.

Over and over, Byleth sends the coiled blade of the Sword of the Creator through the air, but every time an enemy falls another one takes its place. All around her, soldiers of the Kingdom and the Empire alike fall victim to the Immaculate One’s merciless fire. True terror fills Byleth’s chest. She miscalculated, and this time, she won’t be able to go back and make things right. This is her last shot, and she’s failing. Again.

“What’s the plan?” Sylvain yells from his steed, blood trickling down his face from a wound on his forehead.

Byleth slashes down another white beast as she tries to come up with an answer. Not even Ashe and Lysithea have managed to get close enough to Rhea to attack. Dedue, who can usually withstand pretty much anything, was nearly killed in one single hit. There is no plan. There hasn’t been for quite some time.

Somewhere to her right, Edelgard gasps. “Look!”

Byleth turns around. Her eyes narrow as she stares at the horizon. A strange cloud is approaching from the east, and it’s moving fast.

“What is that?” Dimitri punches a church soldier in the face before piercing another one with his lance in one single movement. “More beasts?”

Byleth’s brain goes blank. They wouldn’t survive another wave of reinforcements. Her battalion withdrew ages ago. Mercedes is running out of healing spells. Felix, the one-man army, is surrounded, and he’s already tricked death more times than should have been statistically possible. Byleth has officially run out of strategies.

She squints at the horizon. Her heart skips a beat. She catches the glimpse of a banner, and it carries the colors of yellow and black.

“No,” she says, smiling. “It’s the King of Almyra.”

*

The master of unpredictability swoops in with an army of wyvern riders, and just like that, the tides turn. Eventually, Byleth stands before Rhea with the three young rulers by her side.

“You ungrateful piece of trash.” The Immaculate One’s eyes burn with manic hatred. “I gave you everything. You stole my mother from me. I will take her back!”

She lunges for Byleth, but her blow is blocked by a crimson shield.

“Your reign has ended, Rhea,” Edelgard says, her voice unwavering. “This battle marks the birth of a new world – a world where the strong will no longer prey on the weak.”

Dimitri rearranges his grip on Areadbhar, preparing to strike. “A world where people are allowed to choose their own beliefs.”

“A world where everyone, regardless of their heritage, can be free.” Claude draws his bow.

Edelgard gives the two kings an appreciative nod before turning back to Rhea. “A world,” she says as she raises Aymr, “where there’s no need for gods.”

*

The Immaculate One falls. One by one, the crest-bearing beasts drop to the ground as Seiros’ power leaves their bodies. Something cracks in Byleth’s chest. The Sword of the Creator slips from her hands, and then she’s falling too.

She knows what’s happening. She’s known from the beginning how her journey would end.

It was worth it, she thinks, and then the darkness claims her.

*

Byleth blinks. Her mind is blank. She tries to remember where she is, but her brain gives her nothing. She then tries to remember who she is, but she doesn’t seem to know that either.

“Professor.”

“Teach.”

“Teacher.”

The three names are called out all at once, and somehow, she knows they all belong to her. She blinks again and tries to focus on the three faces hovering above her. Blue eyes, green eyes, violet eyes, all staring down at her, sharing the same obvious relief. Her mind clicks. Everything falls back into place.

“I did it,” she whispers. “I finally did it.”

Dimitri scoops her up and hugs her to his chest with a desperation that makes her fear for the safety of her ribs.  

Edelgard smiles, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Voice trembling, Claude says, “I like the new hair.”

*

Once the Emperor has made sure that the governing of Fódlan will no longer be decided by bloodlines but by the will of the people, she hands over the crown to the unified nation’s first elected king. The former Prince of Faerghus becomes the King of Fódlan, and with the support of the King of Almyra, he opens up the continent’s borders to the rest of the world.

The power of turning back time is lost forever. The human who once wielded it feels no remorse.  

*

Byleth never stops cherishing the soft thuds of her beating heart.

#fire emblem three houses #fe3h #dimileth #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #edelgard von hresvelg #claude von riegan #i mean they're all in there #all of them #everybody lives au #a very very ambitious everybody lives au #SO MUCH EFFORT

[neriad13]

Favorite Media of 2020!

There was a large swathe of this year during which I was unable to concentrate on reading (as there probably was for a lot of other typically-frequent readers), so, as a result, I ended up listening to way more podcasts and watching way more TV shows. Not a bad thing, but boy did I read way less books than usual. 

However, for the first time in a while, the amount of fiction I read was about equal with the amount of nonfiction I read. Last year’s reading resolution was to read more fiction, so...success??

I did read a lot of phenomenal fiction when I had the energy to do so this year.

Books - Fiction

The Martian - Andy Weir

This book is the hardest of the hard sci fi I think I’ve ever read. Every single aspect of it is minutely researched and calculated. The author literally wrote equations to write this book. The science is insanely impressive and yet...it never loses its sense of humor or humanity in the mix. In fact, they’re the thing that drives the entire story.

Warlock Holmes - G. S. Denning

Way early in the year I was strolling down the fantasy aisle at the library, when this cover caught my eye. I took one look at it, went “oh, this looks silly” and...proceeded to devour the entire series in a matter of weeks. 

It is very silly. Especially when it’s pointing out something that was silly in the original. There’s something so satisfying about Watson immediately answering Holmes with the correct number of steps in their flat when he’s trying to make his point about how most people don’t pay attention to things like that.

World War Z - Max Brooks

Every single scenario in here could easily support an entire book. A park ranger whose job it is to contain the yearly zombie spring thaw? HECK YES. I’d read tens of thousands of words about that. A Chinese admiral who defaults, steals the government’s premier submarine, loads it up with the families of his underlings and takes to the sea for years to live in the maritime economy that has sprung up in a world where everyone is trying to escape the shore? That could be an entire movie on its own. 

Every chapter was more creative than the last and as a huge worldbuilding fan, this book was so, so fun.

An Unkindness of Ghosts - Rivers Solomon

In which a queer, neurodivergent protagonist solves a mystery on a spaceship which is a microcosm of antebellum era politics! This had a beautiful, mysterious, wonder-inducing writing style and it was a joy to peer into the wildly differing minds of every single character.

Books - Nonfiction

Underland - Robert MacFarlane

In every chapter, the author visits a different hole. Basically.

It’s an exploration of caves, catacombs, mines, nuclear waste facilities and the hidden underbelly of every forest. It was fascinating. And fundamentally changed how I look at time.

Rejected Princesses - Jason Porath

After years of having enjoyed the web entries, I finally got my hands on the first book and was not disappointed. 

There are the more entertaining entries, of course and the art is as charming as always, but what struck me the most were the more difficult stories. The deeper you go into this book, the more horrific it gets. The author does not hold back on the indignities suffered by the historical figures he writes about. It’s terrible...but also very, very illuminating.

The Gift of Fear - Gavin De Becker

This book - while maintaining all the essential information in it - could be pared down to one sentence in a sea of blank pages and that sentence would be: trust your instincts. End of story.

But in a world where instincts are either customarily suppressed or going haywire, it’s not quite that easy, which is why I’m glad there is more to the book.

I picked it up thinking “ha ha, betcha can’t help a person with anxiety who fears all the time already” and...what it actually ended up doing was giving me the tools to differentiate between real fear and unfounded fear. And did help with the anxiety quite a bit.

Fanfiction

Watch Over Me - cakeisatruth

A Bioshock fic from the point of view of a little sister who is learning how to trust and be an ordinary child again. Dark and sweet. An excellent combo.

All That is Visible - Ultima_Thule

An exploration of a minor character in a well researched historical context? That’s my jam! How did they know?? A Tron fic about what it’s like to be a female programmer in the 70s.

Graphic Novels

The Adventure Zone - McElroys + Carey Pietsch

Yesssssssss! It was a running-to-the-library type event whenever my library got a new volume in. The jokes are so good, the art is so lively and the ways in which they added the details that the podcast couldn’t necessarily get across is *mwah*

Trail of Blood - Shuuzou Oshimi

Hoooooooly shit, the art style of this one!! It’s beautifully detailed and expressive, sure, but the real draw for me was how it changes with the emotional state of the main character. There’s this sequence in which he’s consumed with anxiety at school and all of his classmates become blurry and unfocused, until they can’t be recognized as humans at all, that particularly sticks with me.

It’s a horror story about a kid who witnesses his loving mother push his cousin off a cliff for seemingly no reason and is then obligated by her to keep the secret, which is eating him from the inside out. It’s so good, guys, please read it.

Level Up - Gene Lien Yang/Thien Pham

A story about a kid who is haunted by his late father’s desire for him to become a gastroenterologist. It’s funny and touching and the ending gave me what I can only describe as a feeling of exhilaration. Y’know that feeling when something unexpected but not out of left field, perfectly in tune with the narrative arc and gut bustingly funny happens, all in the same panel? That one.

Film

Searching

This is a fairly standard thriller about a dad trying to find out what happened to his missing daughter. It’s also found footage...but not in the usual way, which was what made it so compelling to me. It’s told through the dad’s phone calls, google searches, social media interactions, news footage, security cameras and webcams. It was such a cool way to tell a story.

Train to Busan

There’s a lot that’s already been said about this movie and I don’t think there’s much more I can meaningfully add to that. Suffice to say that ya gotta take care of each other if you’re going to survive a zombie apocalypse!!

TV Series

My Brother’s Husband

As close to a perfect adaptation as a person can get (barring the entire conversation in English which was...oof). I was so happy when they took it a step further and showed Kana and Yaichi actually getting to meet Mike’s family.

Zumbo’s Just Desserts

I watched a lot of baking shows this year. Like...a lot. They were my much-needed comfort viewing for the year and this one was my favorite, even over The Great British Baking Show (which I LOVE). Why? Because the pastry chef for whom it’s named makes such bizarre and wonderful desserts and fosters an environment in which the competitors do the same. I’ve never seen anything like a lot of the desserts that make an appearance on this show. Every single episode was an awesome surprise and so help me, this show had better get a third season.

She-ra and the Princesses of Power

There’s also a lot that’s been said about this one, so I won’t say much more. Suffice to say: DAMN. That’s how you do an 80s toy tie-in cartoon remake.

Infinity Train

This show’s premise is probably the most unique I’ve seen in recent years. Its balance of comedy, horror and existential dread is also *mwah* I also love how much it trusts the viewer to figure things out on their own.

Primal

A late entry sliding in before the year ends! I finally got to watch the second half of the first season last weekend and it was EXCELLENT. The pacing, the brutal fight scenes, the adorable dinosaur antics, the animation, the quiet moments - *mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah*

The most emotional moment for me was the part in which the protagonists watch, with sorrow, as the rabid dinosaur who’s been trying to kill them all night dies an excruciating death.

Also it sets up a fascinating new plotline right before ending in a cliffhanger!! Another one for the ‘had better get a next season’ list.

Games

Night in the Woods

This is one that’s been on my to play list for a few years and I was so glad I finally got my hands on it. It’s like...The Millennial Experience (TM), the game. I felt so seen, playing it. The character writing was fantastic.

Prey

I don’t know why I put off finishing this for so long. I guess I wasn’t in the right alien killing headspace for a while?? Anyway, the setting is gorgeous, the alien biology is weird and cool, the ethics are delightfully murky and the interconnectedness of the station was really cool, especially in the OH SHIT moments at the end. 

Podcasts

The Adventure Zone

I tried to narrow this down to one favorite arc, but found that I couldn’t do it. I love Balance for its comedy and creative energy. I love Amnesty for its drama and acting. I am loving Graduation for the depth of its world and the way in which the real story behind everything that’s happened is slowly unfurling. It’s a good podcast all around.  

The Magnus Archives

Who obsessively listened to every single season while playing Minecraft in about a month? Surely not me, nooooo. Of course not.

There’s also been a lot said on this one, so I’ll keep it brief. I’ve seen things in here that I haven’t really seen elsewhere in horror. My particular favorites were the creepy psychiatric hospital in which the horror comes not from the patients, but from the denial of the doctor to believe them about their mental illnesses and every single thing related to the Anthropocene. The one with the Amazonian village made out of trash - CHILLS.

#tma #taz #prey 2017 #night in the woods #infinity train #warlock holmes #she-ra #zumbo's just desserts #a thought

[i-am-vpelno]

JUSTICE LEAGUE SNYDER CUT SPOILERS!!!

So, due to the nature of this film my opinions are going to be all over the place and admittedly biased. I am a huge Justice League fan, I hate Zack Snyder, I hated the original Justice League by Snyder and Whedon and I’m not the biggest fan of Batman or Superman.

The Editing:

I’m kind of between the acknowledgment that this was Frankensteined together and wasn’t meant to be released and the fact that Snyder was given like 70 million to make this movie so what’s up? Let’s start with the negatives. This movie could’ve been waaay shorter by editing out SO MANY unnecessary scenes and slow mo. I can distinctly remember several scenes where I felt awkward just waiting for a character to hurry the fuck up and get where they’re going. This is especially prevalent with the Flash as almost every scene with him is in slow mo despite him being a speedster??? Then there are just “walking scenes” where it was just so so so uncomfortable and pointless watching the characters walk from point A to point B with nothing else interesting going on in the scene. There are strange scenes that don’t really add anything or lead anywhere like the Icelandic lady smelling Arthur’s shirt????? And Steppenwolf getting “permission” from Desaad to interrogate the scientists even though we knew he was going to do that already. A lot of these extra scenes interrupt the pacing as well which is a shame because I think the time would be less daunting if you cut them. I think the worst part though was the soundtrack. They only play Wonder Woman’s theme once in the beginning but then every time an Amazon is on screen they start playing this “lamenting tune” over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again!!! If it’s not the same exact clip from the same exact song I will genuinely be surprised. A lot of it just doesn’t fit the film, I definitely prefer Icky Thump to whatever Snyder had Arthur drinking to.

I didn’t mind Snyder’s color palette this time as I feel like the colors are punched up just a bit. I am so glad they chose to change the entire scenery for the final fight, it was so much more pleasing to look at. Albeit it was dark so...not much visibility lol but it’s understandable. I caught myself catching chills from the suspense and the emotional scenes in this. The emotional heart of this film is definitely there! I love the fight scenes!!! Other than some awkward moments with Batman and the Flash they were amazing!!!! Everyone looks great but I think the cgi shines the most here. I can actually see the parademons clearly now and I like their design. Steppenwolf had the biggest improvement, he was kinda blurry before but he looks great and I LOVE how they chose to show off the armor and his anatomy throughout the film. For this film specifically, I enjoyed the “Part One” things because it fit well in explaining part of Snyder’s vision AND was useful when I needed to take a break from the film. I kind of enjoyed the lack of a wide screen. Like Evangelion, I got the sense that there was more happening around the characters off screen and it greatly added to the mood. One of my favorite scenes is the Barry saves “Iris” (I don’t know if that’s actually Iris West.) This is one of the only times I thought Ezra Miller’s Flash was not only charming, funny and had a neat interpretation of his abilities but this is probably the best use of the weird music and slow mo in the film. I thought it was really cute.

The Story:

By far the biggest improvement upon the original, the added context is not only done well but probably the most interesting part of the film. Though not without its own issues, it adds much needed context, stakes and characterization that wasn’t available in the original. I could summarize that “everything makes sense now” but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. We learn so much about Darkseid, his followers and his purpose. The whole “science so advanced it’s like magic” thing was so interesting!!! Cyborg finally has a really well done and AMAZING origin story here!!! I love how Cyborg talking to Superman’s ship and the Mother boxes is used to explain the Injustice future and how dangerous the Mother Boxes really are. It’s really hard to put it into more words than I already have!

There are still a lot of issues but they’re not too big, just pacing and preference things. For instance we didn’t need the first scenes with Lois getting coffee but we did need the ones with her and Martha. However it’s not Martha, so what’s the point? We don’t know the Martian like that yet and we have no context showing that he knows Lois is “the key.” The Flash tends to over explain his abilities at awkward points but that’s an issue I’ll expand on later. The entire “Diana explains Darkseid to Bruce” scene is good but goes on far too long and we didn’t need to see them make the boxes even though it was cool. I hated the Injustice epilogue and the intro to the Martian. We didn’t need to see the entire “break into the lab” scene or the entire convo about bringing back Superman, some of that could’ve been cut. I don’t like how they handled Black Suit Superman. From my own knowledge and reading I know that the context for the black suit is that Superman was weakened and not killed so he wears the black suit to gain his power from the sun slowly, more or less. However it’s just a fashion choice here as Supes only lost his memory. Also, no matter how hard they try this movie is not funny. Besides the jokes we’ve already seen, very few hit and I can’t even remember them. I didn’t laugh once.

The Characters:

I wanna jump into it with how bad the Flash is here. Like I said, him saving “Iris” was pretty damn good but everything around that is awkward, bumbling and forced. My biggest issue is that I’m biased towards the CW’s Flash, who is my preferred live action Flash and I completely disagree with how they’ve treated the Flash’s origin and his father. The best part of the Flash is that he’s kind of like Spider-Man in that he’s super smart and strong but lives humbly and spends most of his time helping his community. And like Spider-Man he has great quips but is easily weakened by his arrogance. This Flash is barely above a hobo and only shows the faintest hints of competence. How did he even get his suit???? Did he steal the parts to make it??? The guy who plays his father is so close to being perfect actually, if they could stop him from sounding like a high frat boy. Seriously there’s “My dad is my best friend” and then there’s “I smoke up with my mom’s sperm donor Fred.” I didn’t even like him in the original however I ever so slightly prefer him to this.

Let me tell you I’m not one to get sincerely mad over a movie, it’s all calm critique over here. However, what they did to my man Martian Manhunter is mildly infuriating. Like I said, him being Martha completely ruins that scene and makes no sense in this film. Why doesn’t he help the justice league???? His formal introduction is so blah and lacks the punch that his character deserves. I was hoping he’d get his own movie or at least something similar to Cyborg in this film. So sad!

Cyborg is obviously the star of this film AS IT SHOULD BE. Again, I’m biased but from my reading and watching of the Mother Box story from the comics, ALWAYS had Cyborg heavily involved somehow because it’s connected to his origin. But goddamn does Ray Fisher absolutely shine and I’m glad Snyder saw that in him too. The depth they go into Cyborg’s origin was great and so entertaining to watch. Hands down consistently the best part of the movie. And he was funny!

I’m going to put Batman and Wonder Woman together because I ship them but also because my critique is fairly similar. I was absolutely shocked by both of them, Diana being faithfully more brutal and Batman being to a point off color by being so soft and hopeful. BUT I ADORED BOTH. There is a balance that many people misunderstand when writing these two characters. They both have the capacity for cold calculation but have big hearts and care a lot about saving people. I hope to see more of this characterization from them. Also, we love to see Alfred being the smart capable father we know he is. I do wish they kept the thing about Bruce confronting Diana about being hung up on Steve because it’s annoying and needs to be addressed.

Superman is boring again here, but it’s the way Snyder writes him so I’m not sure what else I can say. I just don’t like how inhuman Superman seems despite his upbringing. Aqua man was shockingly boring as well. I though he was giving a decent performance, being the laid back, giggly badass from the first film.

I think Steppenwolf was amazing, a few weird flops here and there but a compelling performance that really let us get to know him! Desaad was surprisingly intriguing, mostly due to the vocal performance. Eh Darkseid was definitely different. I was missing his almost regal authority, I always thought of him as an evil emperor and I was a little sad that he didn’t act more like it. Even the Harley Quinn show captured his well founded self righteousness.

The Dreams and Epilogue:

Here’s the thing, I already know this stuff was added for sequel bating but I’d like to address some questions and concerns that I still have. I still prefer Arrow’s Deathstroke to this one, but we’ll see. Jesse Eisenburg simply doesn’t fit as Lex Luthor, even that trick he pulled was poorly done. I wonder if Lex’s body guards are Amazon’s like in the comics. Jared Leto continues to try way too hard as the Joker but actually has some intriguing lines here. Kind of alludes even more that he’s a Robin turned crazy or something. Is this leading to Injustice or APOKOLIPS War?

Anyway, it was a good film! I recommend it!

#justice league Snyder cut #justice league #dceu #Snyder cut #justice league spoilers

[sugarcookiesandsins]

Charmed [Episode 2]

➰ ot7 x reader, poly!bts x reader, mafia!bts ➰ they wouldn’t notice her until she was standing above them, a smoking gun in her hand a bullet in their heart 🌡 M   🛑 heavy violence 🕛  4.1k+

Tag List: Please comment or send an ask to be added to the tag list!

@missseoulite @omgsuperstarg @slutkoo @asifetch7 @kawaiimusiccollection @namupeachs

As you made your way closer to the store, you realized that it was a furniture store. You wryly shook your head and cast a glance towards the ceiling - Fate was simply playing you at this point, but what did it matter? It had given you an opportunity, and may karma come for your ass if you did not take advantage of it. Glancing towards the entrance of the shop, you saw multiple women milling about with both eyes on the men and none on the products. Typical.

Resigning yourself to Fate once again, you made your way towards the entrance of the shop, promptly ignoring the stares from the women as they silently judged the clothing you wore and your messy-ish hair. You were nothing compared to their towering heels and fashionable apparel, garnished with shimmering jewels and manicured perfection. Still, you were there for two reasons, the boys whose location was obvious due to their deep baritones and for the furniture. Earlier you were considering getting something simple and easy, but why bother? This would be the longest mission to date, might as well make sure you were comfortable executing it. Making your way into the heart of the store, you pause to evaluate the options presented to customers regarding a general style. Despite your own partiality to your parent's home, you make your way towards the section the boys were in. 

The modern style never caught your fancy, its clean, sterile characteristics reminding you too main of hospitals with its prying eyes and constant supervision. All-in-all, the style reminded you of things you didn't like, but for now, you could pretend. Ignoring most other things, you made your way, towards the same section, worker in tow as you rattled off questions about price, shipping, and quality.

Hoseok and Jin both noticed the girl who walked around them but didn't seem to care about their presence. It was easy enough to ignore the gaggle of women outside the shop, the twittering was something easy to get used to. Besides, those women would never dare to approach either of them while not under the strobe lights of their nightly haunt. Demin was a nightclub famous both for its "private" shows and its clientele. It was where Taehyung worked most often, honing his skills with the women much too eager to experience a night in his bed. 

[JHS]

The first time I saw her was near the couches, standing next to one that was whiter than the clouds on a clear day. The metal detailing reflected the light of the store. She was dressed in the latest fashion, as was everyone, but she seemed to not be comfortable in it. She was playing a part in an elaborate play.

For a second, I wondered if Jin and I were involved in this play she was the star of. But it couldn’t be. She seemed to not care about the presence of others, not even the employee flocking around her with his feathers all askew. Her eyes were focused on the furniture, calculating and cold as they traced the curves and angles of each piece before her. It was almost hard to not see the gear ticking away in her head and see absorbed information.

Matching eyes with Jin, I slightly tilted my head in her direction, raising an eyebrow. And all I got back was a neutral shrug. So even he recognized something in her but couldn’t determine what it was that felt off.

In a way she reminded me of Jungkook, and I don’t think that if she met him, she would take it as a complement. She moved with the same tense grace that he did, a faked state of relaxation. Though I doubt she had gone through the same thing that he did; even I didn’t know all the details, but all the boys agreed that his father was the only one not worth fighting for.

We all hated the man, not only for what he did to Jungkook, but for what he did to Jimin. Somehow the asshole had gotten his hands on Jimin who was taught to fight both alongside and against his best friend. They were the best of friends, yet they also knew the secret to the other’s downfall.  

After a particularly expensive selection of a glass and metal breakfast table, the boys were even more intrigued. You did not seem to be rich, far from it, but the speed with which you selected items certainly made you seem so. Neither did you carry the air of someone with vast amounts of wealth. They were the most obvious; it always astounded them how someone could never get tired of talking about money.

With the attitude of someone who had other places to be, you swept out of the shop in mere moments, followed by wandering eyes and the attention of two very prominent mafia members.

Were you disappointed at the lack of interaction? Yes. But never would you have taken the initiative to start a conversation with them. It would have blown your 'disinterested' facade to pieces in seconds. Still, you were not a blind woman and you could clearly see their interaction thanks to the mirrors that decorated the store - they had spotted you and you had their attention.

From this you learned three things you could add to the files:

Neither Hoseok nor Jin were quick to initiate interaction. In alignment with their training, they waited until that person became a target or they felt reassured about that person's background.

Compared to some of the others, they were not partial to socialization outside of work. Even Jin, their conversationalist, would not deviate to satisfy personal curiosity.

And what is possibly the most important of them all, they were preparing for someone's arrival. Whose? A name wasn't mentioned, but it was almost certainly a male if she had heard the pronouns correctly.

Again, you were back to the counting. You assumed that the habit had come from your mother, a mathematician with more numbers than letters running through in that brain of hers. There was something calming about having a constant in your life. It seemed that with everything else being the way it was in your life, the predictable sequence of numbers grounded you to your fate. Your mantra was a list, your mind worked in logical numerics, anything you had some semblance of control overworked in numbers.

Walking away from the store, you made your way into another one, this time intending to collect a couple new outfits. Despite your new persona being Eli, you still would have some time to be yourself so it would do no good to rely on the same rags that had started tattering with use. 30 minutes later, you walked out of your favorite store with an outfit leaning on the expensive side of casual. A new pair of blue jeans hugged your legs and comfort was your priority with a graphic tee-shirt and a bomber-style jacket. Your old things were in a new backpack that you decided to splurge on.

Glancing out the window of the mall, you noticed night creeping in around the edges of buildings. The sky-colored itself hues of fire as the sun sunk into the horizon, twilight was a magical vision against the sight of the river in the distance. Deciding that you could spare a couple more moments in the mall, you made your way to the food court and took a seat along with a window with a perfect view of the skyline as it caressed the metal of buildings taking their grandeur from blurry reflections.

Hoseok and Jin made their way out of the furniture store after confirming the delivery of their shipment. Even they didn’t know what they were preparing for, but if the Boss said it, then no questions were necessary. After making up excuses for the ladies shameless enough to talk to them under the spotlights of the mall, they began making their way towards the entrance of the mall.

Together, in their crisp button-ups and polished shoes, they cut an imposing figure against the white of the walls. Hoseok couldn’t help but watch the people around him as he walked. It was less of a judgmental gaze than an evaluative one. He always looked for anyone that seemed to have something he could use. He oversaw business contacts in their 7-man crew, the communicator to other groups or with new clients that they saw as prospective. Thus, once again his eyes fell on your lone figure near the window, leaning on the palm of your hand as you watched the world outside, eyes reflecting the very scenery that you were looking at. Taunting orange ribbons dancing in your iris as you isolated yourself from the world just to watch twilight as it progressed.

In truth, no one knew what made him more qualified for his position than Seokjin or Taehyung, both boys also in charge of first encounters, but most surmised it was his face. Compared to Seokjin or Taehyung, it lacked that carved-marble appearance that intimidated others. Molded from chocolate, and with a 100-watt smile, he came off as approachable and sweet.

After seeing you in the furniture shops, both boys had forgotten about you. There was no reason for Hoseok to remember you, you were neither a target nor an informant to him. Still, the curiosity that had died down once you disappeared from his sight was back in full force as he saw a new side of you. In direct contrast to the woman negotiating prices in the store, and succeeding, here you were, quiet and pensive as you looked out the window. The object of your attention was just as much a mystery to him as you were. 

[KSJ]

Pulling out my phone, I shot a quick text to Namjoon telling him that all the new furniture had been obtained and was going to be shipped to the warehouse. Then, I contacted out driver so he would be outside the entrance by the time that we exited the mall. I didn’t like being out in the open for more time than was necessary. BigHit is rumored to have people everywhere but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Taking a couple more steps, I realized that Hoseok was not behind me. He normally was just as strict as I was about being exposed so imagine my surprise when I turn and see him once again watching a girl.

That was twice in a day, and here I thought he wanted nothing to do with them.

“Hoseok,” I hissed. Looking closer, I realized that it was the same girl as before and that annoyed me.

He looked over and followed, but not before one last glance back at the girl. She had gotten his attention allright.

There really was nothing special about her. She was another civilian, a civilian that had unknowingly drawn eyes more than once, but she was still a civilian. She was of no use to us, especially with the way she kept her eyes on the sky outside.

Her head was in the clouds and ours were fated to be grounded. 

As the sunset, you cast your eyes down as the two male targets walked out of the entrance of the mall and into a waiting SUV, driven by another member of BTS. From this distance, and with the added challenge of sunglasses, it was difficult to identify who, but that didn’t matter to you. For now, you would leave them be as you focused on establishing Eli within the underground societies.

At the moment, the only idea you had was starting with petty theft and then consequently selling the acquired goods on the markets. From the memories you had with your parents, it was not hard to pick out conversations about your dad’s work. You vaguely remembered a case where, in a turn of events, your dad was on the side of the prosecution.

From the hushed conversations, all you could discern was that something important had been stolen and your dad was tasked with finding the person who did it. Logically, the best place to check would be the black markets as sales were kept behind closed doors. Some names had floated around your house, and you decided those would be your starting point; you had to find the best. After all, you were only going to be selling the best.

The question still remained: what would catch their eye? Initially, your thoughts strayed to the furniture they had bought today. Stealing something relatively big like that would certainly be noticed but the only issue was that you would need multiple people to assist. The setup you could probably do by yourself. It wouldn’t take much considering you were going to accepting a delivery from the same place probably on the same day. It wouldn’t be difficult to sneak in under the pretense of forgetting the day and while the worker was verifying with you, check out the order the boys placed in.

This made you pause for a second. The shop had two options for delivery. It could either go straight to the buyer’s house or it could be picked up from the store. You had no clue as to the option the boys picked, but if it was delivered to an address, then that address could be their residence, or at least the start of the breadcrumb trail right to their front door. It would give you such an advantage in the long-run. In the end, you decided, to keep that idea on the back burner. If they themselves gave you access to their house, then the furniture shop would be a waste of time. It was best to wait and see what happens.

With at least 3 people on the team, interception of the delivery and transfer of the packages wouldn’t be too difficult, but you were alone in Seoul. And there was no way you would be asking Maestro for help. You had begged him for this mission, and you would not be losing face by asking him for help. This was something you had to do alone. Besides, even if you did succeed, you yourself wouldn’t be noticed, the company would. Even then you doubted that BTS would bother to get too involved; they have enough money to just buy another set and pay a little extra to get it faster.

To get them to notice, really notice, what you took had to be something personal.

Then it hit you. Eli would be getting attention through pickpocketing, why not use the same strategy against the boys. There had to be a wallet, a card, or something that could find its way into your hand and then into the hands of an underground dealer. Especially, if it was something with their monogram on it. You had no doubt that even though the black markets retained independence, they were all scared to death of BigHit and that an immediate call would be placed to inform them of the missing valuables.

Recalling the two boys you had seen, you traced their figures in your mind to see if there was anything that you could recall. True, there was no need for anything distinguishing to exist - the boys were famous enough as it was - yet, you hoped that through bloodshed and death they still had a little sentimentality within them and that their fathers hadn’t snuffed that out, yet.

Sadly, nothing particularly popped out in your mental image of them, not that it mattered. You had a week or two to figure out the men that you were after. Turning the gold chain around on your wrist you caressed the notches lovingly. This was where their charms would hang, on the very bracelet that you took from your mom all those years ago. It would forever hand on your risk as a reminder to yourself and to others of exactly what you were capable of. You still hadn’t decided what charms would represent them, but that would become easier as you got to know them.

Or you could watch them when they were at their most venerable. When they were home after a long day and decide to let loose. As regimented as they were, they were still men in their prime. They should let loose somewhere, and if not in Demian, then at least in the privacy of their own home.

Suddenly, you found yourself second-guessing your decision to postpone your idea for using the shop. You always hated second-guessing yourself - it was indicative of weakness. Having second thoughts meant that you weren’t committed and a lack of commitment, though it may protect your heart, may not protect you. Besides, conviction is the difference between a good plan and a great plan on one hand, and on the other it causes small mistakes to magnify into train wrecks. If you had to choose only one thing to remember from your master’s teachings, it would be what he had written into your skin; ‘Commitment or Fear’. It was this tattoo that you traced pinpricked along the sliver of skin that molded to your skin above the edge of your panties as you still broke the law and thought.

You left the mall long after the sun sank beneath the horizon. Making your way home, you decided on a plan of action tomorrow. It would be the same for the next couple of days after that. You had to make face with the markets until yours was the name they thought of when it came to theft.

For the next three weeks, you slowly built a rapport with the minor crime bosses of Seoul. It was a difficult start, forcing yourself to take from innocents on the streets to help your own cause. Yet, it was a necessary evil in your mind and you satiated yourself with the idea that without BigHit they would be much safer as you snuck your hand into purses and back-pockets to retrieve wallets and valuables.

These stolen items you would turn-around and pawn off at black-market vendors who were all too happy to receive new goods. They too benefited from your transactions with them as it allowed a wider clientele to enter their doors, those that avoided the vault at the back of the shop and stayed at the front counters to purchase simpler items like luxury watches or id cards.

Soon enough, Eli was a common enough name whispered around the black market circles. It was never spoken with much feeling behind it other than admiration when the feeling was involved. It had spread pretty far, but what you didn't account for was who Eli's myth spread to.

[MYG]

We had been called into the head office today; a rarity but not an impossibility considering how we were still working for him. The pompous bastard liked to throw his weight around, but then again so did everyone in the company – throwing around weight creates fear as most didn’t even have enough to toss. We life and thrive on fear. Fear made people compliant. And from father to son and mother to daughter, everyone shared the same fears and everyone became compliant.

Walking into the office, it still struck me how he managed to make the same room look so different. Each leader had his own taste but they knew not to touch the sanctity of the office like he had. I hated him for it.

Still, what he said surprised me. They were words of praise for someone other than himself; Eli. He had come and taken Seoul by storm with the way he suddenly amassed wealth and called the pockets of citizens his coffers. No one knew where he came from or his past, he just showed up one day and asserted himself as the thief of the decade.

“-bring him in.” The tension in the room painfully shifted.

“Excuse me sir, but with all due respect I think-.” Namjoon tried to bring him to his senses and see the reason that they could not bring a random stranger so close to them, but the boss was the boss and he liked to show it.

“What you think is not relevant. You are to bring him in and I am going to hire him.” His face was annoyingly condescending, but we were bound to follow his orders.

With a short affirmation that he would get right on it, Namjoon led us all out of the office and down the stair back to our car.  

Walking out of the pawnshop, Eli stared up at the skyscrapers that towered over his form. It had been another successful day, with a thick wad of bills weighing down the pockets of his jacket. Today, Eli had decided to case out the business center of Seoul. It wasn’t difficult to make him obsolete among the crisp suits and pencils skirts despite standing out with ripped denim and a graphic tee.

The good thing about business people he had come to learn was that they never paid attention to their surroundings. Tunnel-vision ordained a singular viewpoint on their destination and most just glared at and obstruction in their path, not noticing that their pockets were significantly lighter or that the hands that prevented them from falling had taken more liberties than necessary for a task of that kind.

Stuffing your hands into your pockets, you thought about the future of Eli. He was quite well known at this point, not even the black-market pawns haggled with him on prices. What he said goes, and most trusted his reputation of being a fair source of goods. The only real issue had been the targets put on his back. Eli knew that some of the things he had stolen contained sensitive material - that only made the price higher in his eyes - and that this had caused many important people to start craving his head on a platter.

For this reason, when he had reached the crowded Gangnam district, he slipped into a noodle shop. Both because he was hungry and because he needed to change out of his wig and bandages. Sending a small nod at the owner - a woman who you came across with a vendetta against BigHit and decent enough credibility -, you snuck into the storage room at the back. Behind the cartons of vegetables lay a black duffle bag with all your supplies; make-up remover, bandage rolls, extra clothes, and your day-bag. All which Eli used to revert himself back into you.

Back at the front of the restaurant, the fabric door was held aside as a trio of men made their way into the store, each casting a piercing glance at the patrons of the humble noodle shop. The woman behind the counter bristled as she recognized the statues that graced her store - after all, who did not know these boys?

As she watched them hover at the entrance of her shop, the ma’am finally got the chance to study them. They were an intimidating bunch, refined with the kind of confidence that came from their skills and not their looks. Like few others, they had taught themselves the art of subtle patronization.

As she watched their eyes dart around the store, she finally realized that they were looking for the Ruffian. His true name she did not know, but he had made a deal with her concerning the back room of her shop and had been using it for a week or so. She did not know what exactly happened in that back room, but she suspected it had something to do with the (e/c)-ed woman that walked out soon after.

Half of her wanted to send her worker back to warn whoever was back there, but she decided against it. What she had heard from the Ruffian was vague, and before she gave either one her loyalty, she needed to see more about them. Thus, the only interaction she made was to bow respectfully towards them and offer them a seat, which they took with deception in their bones.

#ot7 x reader #bts x reader #bts #poly!bts x reader #bts jin x reader #bts jungkook x reader #bts taehyung x reader #bts jimin x reader #bts namjoon x reader #bts yoongi x reader #bts hoseok x reader #bts seokjin x reader #bts jhope x reader #jin x reader #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #jhope x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #kim seokjin #kim namjoon #jung hoseok #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #park jimin #min yoongi #kim seokjin x reader #kim namjoon x reader