#guy who's not familiar with crash but still recognizes the crash influences :]

[moesthoughts]

hear me out... smut with post!crash nat who sees her ex girlfriend at a club with her new bf and nat doesn't like that at all, and takes it upon herself to show up on readers doorstep later that night and remind her who she "belongs to" so to say

(this may or may not have been heavily influenced by like i would by zayn LMAOO)

ೃ࿔ one way or another

After getting rescued from the crash you wanted a new life, a blank slate. You distanced yourself from everyone, moved to the city, and even got a new boyfriend. One year after you were rescued, you and your boyfriend went to the club, you would never guess your ex girlfriend would be paying you a visit after.

pairing 𝜗𝜚 natalie scatorccio x fem reader

warnings 𝜗𝜚 angst, stalker nat lowk, addiction, drug mentions, cheating, smut with plot, fingering, cunnilingus r! receiving, overstimulation, praise kink

The club has always been overwhelming, the strobe lights that give you the biggest headache, the music that drummed against your ears, the heat from the amount of bodies, it sucks. Which is why Nat is sat at the bar, sipping on a cold glass of gin. She came alone, just how she likes it. Small talk with the bartender is all she needs, other than that she enjoys her alone time. Tonight feels different though, the alcohol doesn’t taste the same and the music isn’t as annoying as she remembers. A new DJ? Maybe that is for the better. Nat sets the glass down at the table and pushes it towards the bartender, muttering “put it on my tab”, for the fifth time this week, a broken promise, she won’t pay it till they personally knock at her door.

Nat is planning on leaving, well, she was. Until her eyes land on a familiar figure, she recognizes that body shape from anywhere. That hair, even if it’s grown a little different overtime, that style of clothing you never can seem to let go of, the shape of your nose, the dark red lipstick you wore to every party before that stupid crash, and most importantly that smile that kept her sane during the time in the wilderness. She stops in her tracks, it’s like time froze around her. Everyone around you is moving slow, all the colorful lights illuminate you, and some man beside you. Nat instantly clutches her hands into fists as she watches his hands grab your waist as you grind on him, he could just be some random guy at the club, and you’re really drunk. Her hopes are false once again as you turn around and wrap your arms around his neck, your lips interlocking with his. She swears she reads “i love you”, from your lips.

It makes her sick, but she can’t stop watching. You look so fucking beautiful with your makeup and hair done, that short dress that hugs your ass so well. You’re her ex girlfriend, you broke things off with her in the hospital after the crash, she still feels that sting in her heart every time you come across her mind. Now she has to watch you kiss this random dude with a big smile on your face. Nat presses her lips together, and finally pushes herself to leave. But she doesn’t, she sits in her car, lighting a blunt and smoking it, waiting for you and your boy toy to leave. She sinks into her seat once she spots you and your boyfriend get into a car, and leave. She starts up hers and follows soon after.

You live surprisingly close to the club, Nat wonders if you’ve been there at the same time and she didn’t notice your presence. Her eyes follow you as you walk to your apartment, open the door and enter it. She curses under her breath and presses her forehead against the steering wheel, contemplating her decisions. She’s already getting high, and stalked you all the way home. She figures she should finish the blunt, you’ll notice right away anyway. That same dizzy feeling graces her as she smokes, her brain becoming foggy, and her worries disappearing like her dignity. She opens her car door and drops the blunt on the ground, stomping it out. She stumbles over to your door, and knocks on it without hesitation.

You open the door, unknowing of who’s waiting on the other side to meet you. Nat relishes the sight of your eyes widening, the cute gasp that falls out of those pretty lips. She also observes how you aren’t slamming the door in her face, your eyes glued on her face, with that same thick eyeliner, lined lips, just with different hair. A sort of twisted smile plays on her face. She’s obviously under some influence, she’s swaying side to side when she’s standing still, her eyes look irritated and red. You sigh and grip the edge of your wooden door.

“Hey, pretty.”

Nat breathes the nickname that used to make you weak in the knees. She gawks at the sight of you up close, that tight dress, those familiar hips, your makeup that she wants to remove using her lips, she takes a small breath to compose herself. Unlike you, about to throw up at the sight of Natalie fucking Scatorccio, even if you made such a great effort to disappear from the rest of the survivors. Though, somewhere inside of you, you’re happy that it’s her and not anyone else. You take a glance into your apartment and step out, closing the door slightly.

“Nat— I.. how did you find me?”

Nat rolls her eyes and peeks into the small opening into your apartment, she doesn’t see any movement, she ponders if your boyfriend is even home. You seem so nervous, like you’re about to throw up at any moment. Some sick feeling inside of her likes that, she enjoys seeing you shrink because of her presence, akin to how she felt after that day in the hospital. You’re sweaty, nervous, you feel like you’re about to puke. The gut wrenching anxiety doesn’t leave you at all, you can only stare at her in awe, somewhere inside of you knows she won’t give you a straight answer.

“What? ‘Your boyfriend home, or something?”

She sneers, a toothy smile coming on her face, the dimples that you loved so much adorning her. You can only glimpse away, not wanting to melt at the sight. Nat takes a step towards you, and you don’t make an effort to move. Something comforts you about her presence here, like she is a missing piece to the puzzle you’ve been meaning to solve for over a year. She’s so familiar, unlike your boyfriend. He’s new, not the same as her.

“I— No. I’m alone.”

You stammer, embarrassingly. Nat chuckles lowly, causing you to sink even more into yourself. Her mood slowly changes as she watches you become more nervous, and detached. She softens up, feels bad for dumping herself on your doorstep all of a sudden, it has to be late, at least 2 am in the morning. She reeks of weed, blabbering drunkenly, she drags a hand over her face and averts eye contact.

“Listen— I’m here because of that guy, are you even happy? I mean— A dude? I thought you were into girls.”

She hits a weak point in your heart, and she was dead right with her words. You don’t even like your boyfriend, maybe only the thought of having someone that enjoys you. You purse your lips, trying not to let those pesky tears roll down your cheeks. Nat’s hand rests on your hip, you can only stare at it. She continues when you don’t pull away from her touch. Her other hand travels to your hips as well, pressing you against the door, making it creak slightly open.

“I don’t even know— Nat. I’m gonna be honest with you.”

“It’s okay baby, you remember who can actually make you feel good, right? Let me take care of you..”

You push the door open and drag Nat into your apartment, bringing her into a desperate kiss. She returns it instantly, kicking the door shut with her heavy boot. She paws at your waist like she’s trying to remember how you feel against her hands, that smooth fabric rubbing against her palms encourages her. Your fingers already tangle themselves in that familiar hair texture, the color darker than you recall it being. She moans into your mouth as you pull on her roots, your tongue plunges into her mouth, not bothering to explore, you already know your way around. You guide her towards your couch and fall onto it, taking her down with you. Nat breaks the kiss to catch her breath. She cherishes the sight of you being disheveled, your smeared lipstick that stains your chin now, your eyeliner slightly running down your pink cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful.. just how I remember.”

Nat’s voice is husky, you whimper as she bites down on your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin. You both missed this, each other’s lips, hands, everything. Your fingers hook under her shirt, she pulls away from you so you can slide it off with ease. She’s wearing a red bra, not the same one, but a lacey one that shaped her chest so well it has you drooling. Nat smirks and unclips her bra, before you can speak she attaches herself back onto your neck. Your grope her, relishing the whimper that vibrates through your neck. She wants to devour you, keep you in her grasp forever. She won’t let you worm out of her life again, she’ll give you a reason to stay and leave that boyfriend of yours.

“Such a pretty girl, I want you all to myself.”

Nat murmurs against your skin as she works your dress down your body. You don’t even have a bra on, small black underwear is all that covers you after she discards your dress somewhere in the room. Her teeth graze your chest while her hands smooth over your now exposed skin, nails digging into the softest parts. She worships your body, she missed how you feel against her palms, how you shiver whenever she caresses you. You realize how much you’ve needed Nat, how your boyfriend couldn’t compare to how she appreciates you as a whole. No boy has made you feel this good, or paid any mind to your pleasure but his own. She rolls your nipple around with her tongue and hikes down your panties, you’re already so wet and she hasn’t even touched near your core. You feel her gasp against your skin as she touches your soaked cunt, she pushes herself up to see you fully. A muttered “fuck” falls out of her lips as she circles your clit with her finger, obsessing over the way you’re already rolling your hips into her touch.

“Shit, you’re so wet.”

She barely speaks over a whisper, you arch your back into her fingers as she pushes them inside of you. Nat’s lips part, she forgot how good you feel around her. Slowly she starts pumping her fingers, moans spill from your mouth shamelessly. She remembers those nights in her hut, her fingers drowning in your pussy, how you’d cover your mouth so nobody could hear you both, she’d whimper like she was actually fucking you. She never got rid of that habit, panting like a dog while she ruins you. She curls her digits in the right spots that make you mewl, how she presses her thumb on your clit makes your toes curl.

“Such a good girl for me, just like that pretty.”

That nickname almost sends you over the edge, your hand wraps around her arm, you almost feel bad for your neighbors, you both have never been this noisy. You missed each other, you want Nat to know how much you’ve been needing her, and she can’t help herself from the noises that come from her mouth. You start approaching your high, that knot in your stomach tightening, threatening to burst. She notices instantly, and picks up her pace, rolling her thumb around your clit and pumping in and out of you relentlessly. It doesn’t take long for you to cum around her fingers, stammering out her name in pure bliss. What you don’t expect is her lowering herself down to your sensitive cunt, and licking up the juices, rolling her tongue around your clit instead.

“Wait— Nat.. Not yet—“

“Please, just one more for me, that’s all.”

And you can’t say know to her, all you can do is whimper as she laps your wetness up. It stings, but feels so good. You grind into her mouth, already feeling like you’ll burst again. Nat wastes no time and slides her tongue into your cunt, fucking you with a pace that gradually brings you over the edge. Her nails dig into your thighs, her tongue working on undoing you. You cum instantly, whining from the overstimulation. She cleans you up with her tongue as best as she can, but she stops when your voice starts getting shaky. Nat wipes her mouth while looking at you, tears stinging your eyes. You slowly sit up and bring her into a kiss, it’s hungry, still that same desperation you two had at the beginning. Your fingers graze her jawline in a way that has her melting under your touch.

“God, I missed you.”

You murmur into her lips, your hand putting the right amount of pressure on her back. She pulls away from you and presses her forehead against yours. Memories from the crash flood your mind, but they’re nice ones, the ones that remind you that Nat is someone you can rely on.

“Why don’t we run you a bath?”

“Only if you join me.”

Okay so i’ve been wanting to write for post crash nat for SO LOMG thank you anon🤍🤍🤍 HEARING U OUT ANYDAY

req me!

masterlist

[heartbeetz]

Okay ♡ yay ♡

OUGH I was about to make a post saying "crash mutuals is this (the audio for the new boss teaser) crash music or just Extremely crashcore" but then I thought "it'd be weird for them to not use their own music tbh... but tony's probably mentioned it one way or another, let me go check"

The crashcore swag.......

[voltronisanobsession]

Being Keith’s Older Sibling

The urges were too strong to not write this💆‍♀️💆‍♀️

Sorry if there’s some typos, my eyes are in a LOT of pain rn

Being Keith’s older sibling is definitely a hard feat in itself

After the death of your guys’ dad, things kinda went downhill for both of y’all

Your general mistrust and attitude towards people brushed off on little Keith, which comes to play later in his life as we’ve seen he was a more troubled kid

So while you tried your best to be a good role model for Keith growing up, it was hard to do so when all he ever saw from you was your aggression towards adults who tried separating you both

Eventually, social services do separate you guys, claiming that it would be best to allow Keith to grow without your negative influences but the damage had been done

Keith would grow up to not trust many people in his life because of your separation, always finding ways to sneak off and see you at the school they sent you to

It was times like those where you would promise to take him away from this place, from Earth, and live a life where you won't lose each other again

Because of this, Keith also developed a habit of lying to his guardians about his whereabouts because of your own attachment to him, encouraging him to continue this behavior 😭😭😭

Man none of yall knew better😭💔💔

But as you grew older, you, unfortunately, were sent away to the city to continue your studies there, cutting all contact with your little brother

Keith would then take an interest in flying and would go on to attend the Garrison to learn to become a pilot while you made plans every day to once again be reunited with him

I feel like it would take some time to leave the city and go back to your hometown because of the lack of resources available to you

So by the time you reach the Garrison after finding out he's been attending the school, it would be around the time he flunked out and disappeared

Fate is not fair to yall (crying)

So you get a job at the garrison while trying to find Keith and some time passes (YAY TIME SKIP)

After following Lance and Hunk while also finding Pidge on the rooftops, readying to reprimand and write them up, you all see the space shuttle crash and explosions go off, shooting off immediately to investigate

All while you're yelling at them to get back to the building cuz you don't want to lose the only job you have that's near where you think Keith is lurking💀

After seeing it was Keith who caused the explosions, he doesn't recognize you until you all get to the cabin

It's kinda emotional on your end cuz bro

This is your little brother... He's all grown up now, but in a way, he still looks the same. He's so much taller now, his hair is longer, and he would look at you with a familiar distrust you recognized

It was the same look he would give others when you guys were younger

The worst part is that he doesn't even recognize you because its been YEARS since he's last seen you

So it's a bit of a shock for him when you reveal that hey! I'm your sibling! And I've been trying so hard to get back to you for YEARS!

Very emotional as you both hug it out

Like really hug it out, tears and everything

"I thought I would never see you again."

"I never stopped looking for you Keith."

URGH MY HEART💔💔💔💔

After that everything is HISTORY

The dynamic between you both is kind of a weird thing tbh

While you're still holding onto the past and the younger version of Keith you remember, Keith has since let go of what the past held, ready to start a new future with his older sibling in his life

Because you're still holding onto this past, you treat him as if he's still a child and appear somewhat coddling in a way

You're just so excited and happy to be reunited with Keith again that you forget he's since then grown up. He's learned to be independent from years spent alone

And while Keith does miss you as well, he isn't used to having this new 'guardian figure' in his life, only used to the freedom and advice given to him from others, especially Shiro

Speaking of Shiro, I think you would go to him for advice on the blockage between you both since he basically raised Keith after you had left.

He knows Keith better, as much as it hurts you to admit it

Shiro would definitely tell you to give Keith space, to give him time to adjust to the new changes in his life. He's still a teen and is still learning to deal with his emotions, so just give him space to fully digest the situation at hand

You take this advice to heart and tread carefully, which Keith appreciates A LOT

Like imagine you grow up with unrestricted freedom, being able to do whatever you want and just learning to take care of yourself, and then one day, an authoritative figure appears in your life and begins setting up these restrictions. Telling you to be careful, making small rules that break your routine entirely

That's what Keith felt when you began making your presence more known in his life since you believed that you had to keep protecting him from the world

But he's grown up

He shows you that he doesn't need you protecting him anymore

It's bittersweet for you to see him not need you and makes you sad that you missed out on basically his childhood

BUT HE'S SO SWEET IN LETTING YOU KNOW THAT YOU'LL BE THERE FOR HIM NOW AND HIS FUTURE ACCOMPLISHMENTS

AND THAT HE'LL BE THERE FOR YOURS TOO😭😭😭

There's just TOO MUCH I can say about being Keith's older sibling, like it's such a complex relationship I would love to develop more on!!!!

This is literally just the tip of the iceberg but imma cut it short for now

To keep it sweet, both of you know that now you're together again, nothing is ever separating yall again

Space wars and all, you guys know you're stronger together and your bond just grows into a beautiful relationship as time goes on😭😭

[jean-kayak]

Falling Back Into Your Bed

Summary: One night was enough to have you crawling back to him

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x black!fem!reader

Warnings: college!au, (smut 18+!!), fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, degradation, Eren's a little shit, little bit of ass smacking, mentions of sex under the influence (consensual), enemies to lovers sort of?

Word Count: 3120

A/N: This is has been in the drafts for a while, and it wasn't supposed to take the turn it was supposed to but I'm happy with it lmaoo. Completely unrelated, but I like making headers lol

It happened one time. To say you weren't really in the straightest mindset, but it happened once and now you're hooked. Your brain only filled with those images from that night. You groan as you pull at your hair, no matter how hard you try, you can't focus on studying. Your brain completely occupied.

"You seem troubled? Need some help?" The snarky comment comes from your right, and you scoff as you rub your forehead.

"Shut the fuck up," you spit with a little more aggression than you intended as you try to focus on anything but that amazing night.

"You thinking about that night? It could always happen again." The words whispered against your skin makes the images flash fully in your head, and you push him away from you, which only gets a chuckle in return.

"Fuck off, Jaeger," you groan as you close your textbook.

"You alright?" Sasha asks you, and you sigh as you nod.

"Yeah, it's just been a long day. I think I'm gonna head back to my dorm." You end your study session with your friends, stuffing your books in your bag, giving them a wave of goodbye as you walk out of the library, sighing in content when the sun rays hit your skin.

You slept with Eren. The only person who can get on your nerves to the nth degree. You woke up in horror realizing what you did, but the horror was that you liked it. It was amazing, the best sex you've ever had. Of course, it has to come from the person you despise the most.

It was a party that Jean wanted you to go to, and he happened to be there, annoying you to no end as he usually is, and then he was kissing you, and then you're walking up to his room and the rest is history. The memories of that night flood your head again.

The way his hands felt hot against your skin, branding a path all over your body. The way his lips brushed all over your skin, stopping to show some parts of your body some love by sucking dark marks onto the skin that took you forever to cover up.

The way his d--

Wait, stop! What am I doing?

You shake your head as you take another deep breath. This is not how you thought your week was going to go.

"I don't know if you have mind-blowing sex what's the big deal? I'm failing to see the problem," Hitch says, and you roll your eyes as you fall back on your bed.

"The problem is that I don't like him. He gets on my last nerve. Why can't I have amazing sex with a guy that I don't wanna stab on a daily basis?" you argue, and Hitch scoffs as she rolls her eyes.

"Well, maybe it's the fact that you don't like each other that's making the sex great."

"I just wanna stop thinking about it," you admit.

"Well, it doesn't seem to be bothering him as much as it is you," she responds, and that part is what makes you the most irritated and confused.

You were sure you weren't that bad,  but it's like he isn't even fazed by it, only teasing you about it in the best way possible. You groan as you roll over, burying your face in your pillow.

The only reason why you're forced to interact with him is that you're friends with Armin who's best friends with Eren. If that wasn't the case, you probably would never see him again, let alone be in the same room as him where he can annoy you.

"Whatever. Maybe I just need to get laid again, get him off my mind," you mumble into the pillow, and you know Hitch is giving you a look without even turning your head.

"Yeah, okay. Whatever you say," she muses. "Speaking of getting laid, there's another party tonight if you want to go."

You turn your head to the side to face her. "Weren't you just a party last weekend?" you comment, and she shrugs.

"You only live once." You raise your eyebrows at her answer but shrug anyway.

"If I don't have anything to do, then I'll go."

~

You should've stayed the fuck home because this party is not it. You don't know if it's because you really don't want to be here or the fact that you're sober, but you can't help but sigh in annoyance as you walk through the crowd until you find a corner where anyone isn't making out.

You nurse your drink, but the taste of the beer is slowly making you sick after two sips, so you just hold it to give you something to do. "You look like you're having fun."

You roll your eyes at the familiar voice, tilting your head to the side as you look at him. "I should've known you'd be here." You knew that you should've listened to that weird feeling in the back of your head the moment you stepped into the room. "I'm not really feeling it," you say, and he steps closer to you.

"Well, we could always go somewhere else, and I can make you scream while I split you open on my dick again." You clench your jaw as you find something else to look at, trying and failing to ignore the way his words make your body hot all over.

You scoff. "Yeah, in your dreams."

"Really? You don't miss this?" he asks, pulling you into him, and you can't help when your mouth falls open slightly your breath hitching. "Cause I sure miss the way your tight pussy clamped around me."

Your thighs squeeze together subconsciously as you let out a small moan, luckily it's muffled by the music, but he doesn't miss your reaction. "Yeah, I'll pass," you muster, and he smirks as he chuckles.

"Fine, have it your way. The offer still stands," he says before he walks away, and you sigh heavily as you drink from your cup. You have to get out of here.

Eren can't take his eyes off of you as you walk around the room. You've filled your cup back up, but you haven't drank from it, the only thing on your face is that you want to get out of here. Even as you talk to some blond guy, Reiner he thinks his name is, your face is very evident in showing that you're tired of this conversation, but you're too nice to leave.

He walked over to talk to you just to tease you but ended up doing the same thing to himself. He finds it funny that you seem to deny what happened between you two even though you reacted the way you did. If he could take you in front of all these people, he would.

Well, he can, but he's better than that.

He doesn't tell you this, he doesn't think he will, but you're the only thing that's been on his mind, but he's just better at hiding it. He can't count how many times he's thought about your body, the noises you made, how fucked out you looked as you took his dick. Every time he touches himself, those are the only things he thinks about.

And every single time he finishes, he declares that he's going to get you back into his bed.

Which is why he decided to come to this party even though he didn't want to. He knew Hitch would drag you out here, and he knew that there was no way he was letting you go.

He almost feels bad for the guy. Even though he can't hear the conversation, he knows Reiner is trying and failing to woo you with his awful flirting tactics. He can recognize your fake laugh from a mile away.

He decides that he can't stand to watch this horror show any longer, and he moves over to where you are, rolling his eyes at a lame pick-up line he hears come from him. "Hey, I need to talk to you," he buds in, and you give him a look.

"I'm in the middle of a conversation." You state the obvious, and he gives you a lazy look.

"Yeah, not really," he responds, and you squint at him. "Come on, it'll take a second."

You sigh, giving in before turning to the buff guy next to you. "I'll be right back," you tell him, and only Eren knows that that's not true.

He eyes Eren before giving you a smile and a nod, and you follow Eren as you walk the too familiar walk to his room. He closes the door behind him when you walk in, and you cross your arms. "What was so important that you had to pull me from my conversation?" you question, annoyed, and he smiles at you.

"Yeah, it totally looked like you were enjoying that little chat." You roll your eyes as he takes your cup out of your hand, setting it on his dresser. "How much have you had?"

You frown at him. "To drink? Not enough because it's difficult to have a conversation with you sober."

He chuckles lightly as he walks closer to you until your knees hit the bed. "Can I say something?" he asks, and you try to act like his close proximity isn't bothering you.

"If it'll make this end sooner."

"All I've thought about is that night," he tells you, and he moves closer, making you fall down onto the bed as you look up at him with wide eyes. He hovers over you, one hand on the mattress next to you, the other trailing down your body, making goosebumps break out over your skin.

"How good you felt, how loud you were, how fucking soaked you were." His lips brush against yours as he runs a hand down your tube top, biting your lip when he rolls his finger over your nipple.

"What does this have to do with me being sober?" you ask breathlessly, and he smirks as his hand moves down to your shorts, and he doesn't miss the way your thighs tense like you don't know whether to close them or not.

"Because I want to see if I can make you scream just as loud." He crashes his lips down on yours, making you squeak in surprise before you finally let him in, moaning when his tongue rubs over the roof of your mouth.

You thought your thoughts about Eren would change if you were sober, but he's just as addicting as he was that night, and you find it difficult to object to anything he's doing.

He crawls with you as you move up further on the bed, your body flushing hot all over. He works your shirt off, throwing it somewhere off to the side before trailing hot, wet kisses down your neck before moving to your chest.

Your hand makes its way into his hair, messing up the bun that it was in as he mouths at your nipples, pulling the taut bud with his teeth and his fingers before switching. "Did I ever tell you that you have nice tits?" he tells you with a playful smile on his face as he fondles them, and you scoff at his childish comment as you shift on the bed, the rough abrasion of your shorts against your crotch becoming extremely uncomfortable.

He works his shirt off as he slides down your body, his lips just grazing your skin to be teasing, and he unbuttons your shorts, peeling them off your legs, letting out a huff when his eyes land on your panties.

"You're so fucking wet," he mumbles, and you hiss at the cool air hitting your sensitive core when he pulls the fabric down and off your legs. You start to say something when he doesn't move, but you let out a low moan in surprise when he licks a broad stripe up your folds.

Your back arches off the bed at the sudden stimulation, and he lays an arm over your hips to keep you still, his other hand digging into the flesh of your thighs as he keeps you spread open. "And you taste so fucking good," he groans as he moves from licking between your folds to flicking at your clit.

"Fuck, Eren," you whine, pulling at the roots when his tongue prods at your hole.

"Come on, baby, I know you can be louder than that," he challenges, pushing one of your legs over to give him more room. His tongue prods at your hole before he replaces it with his fingers, his mouth going back to focus on your clit.

He's already curling two fingers inside of you as he sucks on the bundles of nerves, pulling it into his mouth, before circling his tongue around the bud. What you definitely didn't forget was how amazing his head game was. Your toes curl as the grip on his hair tightens, and it takes a few more pumps on his fingers hitting that sensitive spot inside of you to make you cum, moaning loudly as your orgasm hits.

"There we go. That's better," Eren says before moving his tongue to your hole to lap up your release. You're panting as he moves back up towards your face, his covered in your release. "But I still think you can be louder."

"You sound like you're all talk," you challenge even though you're still breathless.

He chuckles darkly before getting rid of the rest of his clothes, putting himself right back over you. "Sounds like you're undermining my skills," he jabs back as he lines himself up.

"Sounds like you're overestimating yourself," you counter, but you trail off before you can finish the last word as he pushes himself in, and you both moan at the feeling.

"Shit, I'll never get over how amazing you feel," he breathes once he bottoms out, and you're urging him to move, which he quickly obliges, your mouth falling open at the feeling of being stretched out with every stroke.

He moves himself so that he's on his knees, your hips angled upwards as he thrusts into you way too slowly for your liking. "Come on, Eren," you whine, knowing he can make you feel way better than he is right now. "Fuck me harder," you plead, and he coos at you.

"Aww, but I'm trying to make love to you, princess," he drawls, and you groan in frustration as you try to move, but he holds you down, making sure he's the only one moving.

"I don't want you to make love to me," you whine, desperate to have him fuck you until you see stars.

"But I like seeing you beg for me, seeing you so desperate, it's cute, keep going," he says, and you roll your eyes.

"Fuck--" He cuts you off with a sharp thrust, nailing your g-spot with ease.

"Me? Well, you're already doing that, sweetheart." You scrunch your nose at the stupid pet name, and you scoff before you smirk at him.

"As I said, you're all talk," you taunt. "Pretty sure Reiner could make me scream louder than you ever could." The playful demeanor in his face drops and his eyes are going dark, and suddenly he's pulling out of you, and rolling you onto your stomach.

He pulls you up to your knees, and he slams into you, making you cry out at the sudden intrusion as your eyes roll back. "You think you're funny, huh?" he spits before pulling you to his chest by your shoulder. "You wanted to get a rise out of me so that I could fuck you like a filthy whore."

You can barely respond, your body feeling like it's being shocked every time he rams that spot, and you jolt when he pushes on your clit. "Already going stupid? I haven't even done anything yet."

He pushes you back down, pushing your back until your chest is flush against his bed. "You're such a needy slut, aren't you?" A smack to your ass, the sting snapping you out of your daze. "Answer me."

"Fuck yes!" You can barely get it out, your knuckles starting to hurt from how hard you're gripping the sheets.

"Who's fucking you this good?" You don't answer quick enough, it's not like you can, but that only makes him fuck you harder. "Who?!"

"You! God, Eren, you," you moan, and you release your grip on the sheets as you feel yourself starting to drool.

"Who owns this fucking cunt? Fuck." His head falls back on his shoulders as you clamp around him, and he pushes on your clit again when you don't respond.

"You, oh fuck, 's all yours." You buck your hips back, meeting his, and he smacks your ass again.

"Come on, baby, you can say my name." He sounds just as wrecked as you, and his name is the only thing you're coherent enough to say, and you know that you're loud and that anyone walking past the door or on the other side of the walls can hear you.

"Shit, your pussy is so," he cuts himself off with a groan, his body curling as he feels his high building up as you suck him back in.

"Eren, I'm--" You try to tell him that you're close, so close, but you can't, tears running down your face from the constant stimulation on that spot inside of you.

He responds with a groan, and you know he's close too, and the next thing you know, you're cumming hard, your body going rigid. Your orgasm triggers his, and he cums with a moan of your name, his climax hitting him so hard, he falls on top of you.

Both of you fall down on the bed, his ragged breathing fanning against your neck, and he rolls the both of you over before rubbing up and down your top half softly. "You okay?" he asks against your neck, and you can feel the smirk on your skin.

You respond with a content whine, and his grip on your waist tightens when you try to move. "Stop moving. I'm trying to cuddle you."

You scoff before chuckling lightly. "Since when you do cuddle?"

"Since now. Now, shut up, I'm trying to go to sleep."

You roll your eyes at the words, but there's no heat behind them, and you feel sleep catching up to you as well.

Eren Jaeger might annoy to no end, but maybe this isn't so bad.

[vagrantblvrd]

Luke “I’m here to rescue you!” :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD Skywalker rescuing Din and others with rad Jedi powers and Din “I’m so tired, please let me rest” Djarin and his “Are you a Jedi” is like. The best.

Luke used to being recognized pretty much everywhere he goes and this Mandalorian who has no clue is so great, he loves it?

And then the however long after taking Grogu as his student Luke ends up chasing Din. At some point there’s another rescue that’s marginally less dramatic than the one on Gideon’s cruiser.

Din just stares at Luke before he offers a quiet thanks and trudges off because ow and tired and so, so tired and his job’s not finished yet, and did he mention the tired part? Because so very tired.

Luke is like ??? but gamely follows along because Grogu is miserable, inconsolable  -

“What did you say?”

Luke blinks at the way the Mandalorian whips around, hand dropping to the blaster at his hip as he strides toward him and has to run the last thing he said back in his mind and oh, of course.

Cocks his head, because this Mandalorian, exhausted, hurting, and covered in...well, Luke’s not sure but there’s a very large creature behind them that was mostly dead before Luke had to step in at the last minute to save said Mandalorian, and anyway.

After all that and having gotten a glimpse of what Luke’s capable of on Gideon’s cruiser, he looks like he’s figuring out the best way to kill Luke and it’s kind of great?

(Leia would have conniptions if she could hear that part and would also kill him, which is why Luke is never, ever going to tell her. Ever.)

“He misses you,” Luke says, keeps eye contact with Din because the Force and all even with the helmet - even with the way Din’s fingers over his blaster twitch, the way it looks like oh, hey, the Mandalorian might kill him anyway, but -

He just sighs, shoulders dropping as his hand falls away from his blaster, head turning away.

Not much to look at here, rock and dust and burned out mining settlements.

“I have a job to do,” the Mandalorian grits out.

Luke studies him, considers his words and smiles. Small thing at the corner of his mouth.

“Want help with that?”

Which is how Luke gets dragged into a plan only an idiot could love, which of course is why he’s all for it and all kinds of fighty action.

(Including the one where he and Din end up back-to-back against a mob of baddies and quips an one-liners and dry retorts are exchanged and Luke is far more charmed by the whole thing than he should be, and the same for Din and it’s just a slippery slope from there, you know?)

Also, just when they think the fighting’s over the last baddie on a roof somewhere takes a shot at them and it’s hard to say which of them is more impressed at what happens after that. Din who shot the baddie dead, body tumbling from the roof as in westerns of olde, or Luke who deflected the shot with his lightsaber.

Still.

Din tilts his head at Luke as he holsters his blaster, says - mocking? teasing?

“You missed.”

Because he has seen, okay, he has seen Luke deflect blaster bolts right back at the idiot who fired them, knows he can do that.

Luke shrugs, that little smile on his face he had when this whole mess started back, and he says,”You had it covered.”

And then goes off to check on the innocents they were protecting, who hired Din to save them, while Din stares after him thinking uncomplimentary things about Jedi because seriously, okay, seriously.

But also that thing about Grogu and Luke not having to work all that hard to convince Din to come see his kid.

(Has this moment, though, when Din mentions what Ahsoka told him about the Jedi order and attachment and makes a mental note to have a chat with some Jedi masters he knows later, but for now, yes.)

Din who’s all...restless, antsy, worried about setting Grogu on a path to the Dark side, so he doesn’t stay.

Goes off on Adventures and such, meanwhile Luke’s sending him updates on Grogu’s progress. Sometimes just happens to be in the same place as Din - What a surprise Din’s ass, what with the smirk on Luke’s face and oh, look, Grogu’s here too.

There’s just.

A lot of that going on, and Din is kind of losing his mind about it because it’s hard to be noble and self-sacrificing when the person he’s doing it for isn’t letting him???

Just absolutely refuses to, and has the galaxy’s worst enabler in an annoying smug Jedi who should really know better, because Jedi???

Luke just shrugs, that same dam smile on his face s Grogu chatters at Din - lecturing him, really, with that scowl on his face and angry little growl to his voice.

“He misses you,” is all Luke ever says, and it’s just.

A lot.

And then there’s a situation in which Din evades the bad guys in his new ship but also ends up crashing it. Just staring at the damn thing, hull integrity compromised and listing sadly to the side because broken landing struts and also a pile of boulders and look, not his best landing ever.

He’s not in his best shape ever either, bruised and battered and just so, so tired, and then a damn X-wing shows up not too long afterward.

Skywalker, because of course it’s him, and Grogu too.

Din’s sitting on a boulder staring at his ship and just.

Tired.

Luke doesn’t say anything, but he sets Grogu down and Din’s tiny green gremlin kid scampers over to him and tugs on his pants. Lifts his little arms and Din obeys the unspoken command to pick his kid up, and stares.

Because his tiny green gremlin kid has a helmet.

Pilot’s helmet, though, and Luke just shrugs when Din looks at him because what? Things get turbulent sometimes when one is flying about in an all too recognizable X-wing and it’s not like Luke has a wingman to watch his six wherever he goes and also there are so many people out there who’d love to take a shot at him, so.

Safety measures and all.

Really.

Although maybe having a Mando-Dad is influencing his son’s sartorial choices, who can say.

(But please consider Grogu in a full set of Grogu-sized Mandalorian armor as I sure the hell am right now.)

Din huffs, and when he looks back a Grogu his heart does this Thing inside his chest because there’s a mudhorn insignia on the helmet.

Luke just happens to be looking at something in the distance when Din looks at him again, but there’s this hint of a smile and an air of amusement about him and just.

Yes.

Anyway.

Luke wanders off to examine Din’s poor, poor ship, see if it can still fly and leaves Din and Grogu to their reunion. And since it’s mostly the two of them staring at one another and Din being emotional Luke sets about taking care of what repairs he can do with what’s on hand while he’s there.

Artoo trundles over from the X-wing and pitches in and between the two of them have the Din’s ship looking a little less pathetic by the time Din and Grogu come over to see what they’re up to.

“Huh,” Din says, because they did a good job, but it’s not like he can just say that, now can he?

Luke rolls his eyes, says, “It’d go faster with more hands,” which he isn’t wrong about.

So Din gets back to work, and so does Grogu.

Din stealing glances as Luke sneaks in Jedi lessons such as holding panels in place as they weld them to the ship’s frame and such. Tiny green gremlin son practically beaming as Luke praises him for a job well done and Din’s heart does that Thing again.

Anyway, they get his ship patched up far sooner than he would have on his own and then it’s this tiny bit awkward.

What he wants - no, what he thinks he wants - is to leave in search of another bounty, Karga always has some for him - keep busy, make himself useful, but -

“You look like you could use a few days to rest,” Luke says, kind about it.

Din knows very well he’s not in the best state at the moment. Armor dirty and tired down to his bones, and the Jedi’s not wrong, exactly, just.

Reasons.

Ones that don’t stand up to Grogu’s little face and sad eyes and Din’s tired, enough so to give in to weakness this one time and go with them to wherever Luke’s set up shop.

And then he just.

Stays

Mostly.

Still gets restless, antsy, and goes off to hunt bounties, but when his job is done he finds himself going back to Grogu and Luke more often than not.

Enough that he has a set of rooms shared with Grogu and he’s become a familiar figure to the town not far from Luke’s school and -

“You really don’t have anything better than to hang around here?”

Cara and the others giving him looks when he goes to Nevarro to pick up more than a handful of bounties at a time, or wanders the town to soak in the changes they’re bringing to it with the Empire gone and funds coming in - New Republic fighters and such stopping by for fuel and minor repairs.

Which.

Cara gives him a look, a smirk, as though Din’s got anything to do with that, and yes.

Anyway, anyway, no matter how long he’s away Luke’s always there when he gets back, Luke and Grogu, and it means something, doesn’t it?

After a while - the trips away don’t stop, can’t help that - but he stops staying away for so long, looking for excuses to stay away.

Starts to feel less like...like an interloper at Luke’s school eve though he was the only one to think like that, especially once Luke gains more students.

Because fighting and such, and sparring demonstrations and Din won’t mind, and really, it’s as fun for Din as it clearly is for Luke.

But also Din teaching Luke’s students in combat forms aside from lightsabers and such.

(Luke sneaking in at the back when his own classes are done, leaning against the wall and watching Din with an appreciative eye until Din has had enough of the smug and the smirking and hauls him in front of the class for practical demonstrations.)

Perhaps there are long walks together, Luke and Din with little Grogu toddling along or hitching a rid in their arms or on their shoulder, and quiet conversation and peace and quiet and this contentment Din hasn’t found anywhere else.

And, perhaps, on one of those long walks together there’s a moment where Din leans down, forehead against Luke’s while Grogu chases after a frog, Luke smiling up at him -

A splash and indignant little squawk, splashing from Grogu who chased the frog into the water, of course he did. Luke’s laughter as he pulls away to rescue their tiny green gremlin child while Din closes his eyes, helpless smile on his face as he listens to Luke gently chiding Grogu and Grogu’s protests, stubborn as Din and Luke combined and breathes.

(Also, though. Grogu pouting all the way home because he almost had that forg okay, if his dads had just given him another chance he would have had it.)

[liquid-luck-00]

Queen Marinette

Queen Marinette

Here is a ~2000 word song fic that I wrote in place of working on my ongoing fics hope you guys like it.

I saw a post a while ago where Damian would call Mari Queen/Your Majesty as she was a princess, but i cant find the post anymore but the idea stuck so here we are.

~~~~~~~~~~

The League of Assassins also known as the League of Shadows is one of the Earth's best kept secret society second to Themiscyra home of the Amazons and Atlantis of the Atlantans. However there is one that only a handful know and whispers of their existence are mythical in the cosmos. Only known to the head families, or rulers, of Themiscyra, Atlantis, and the League of Assassins.

That would be the Kingdom at Miraculi.

Marinette is anything but a normal girl. She is the crowned princess of Miraculi as well as being the reincarnation of the goddess Tikki. She is creation herself, but on top of that she was blessed by the other gods as well, meaning she is able to wield their gifts as well. She is Princess Marinette Dawntreader of Miraculi.

But right now she wants to be anywhere but the palace. At the age of eight she just met her betrothed and let's just say he did not make a good first impression.

In front of her stood Damian Al Ghul the heir of Demons and next head of the league of shadows. The league is the guard of Miraculi, ensuring that the existence of the Kingdom remains peaceful and in turn the Kingdom of Miraculi supplies the magic of the Lazarus Pit. The concealment of Themiscyra and Atlantans able to survive under water are other blessings provided by Miraculi. But back to the pain on hand, Damian Al Ghul.

"Tt. you really do look the part of a princess" she was in a long flowing dress with long sleeves as she had finished her classes for the day. "Fragile and helpless."

"Yes and you appear as a demon" she shot back. "self-absorbed and arrogant" she turned on her heel "keep up little Prince" she called over her shoulder.

They got to know each other better but he was always so cold and distant. But they grew to love each other. Damian left to be with his father when they were 10, but they still stayed in contact. Then when they were 13 she got news that broke her heart, Damian was dead.

She couldn't stay in the Kingdom without remembering him. She needed distance and new scenery wouldn’t hurt. So she brought it up to her parents, and they were reluctant, but Diana Princess of Themiscyra brought up the solution Marinette would be staying with Sabine Cheng, an Amazon who was granted leave of Themiscyra , and her husband Tom Dupain.

That was how she found herself in Paris as an 8th year introducing herself as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

That was how she also met Adrien Agreste. He was kind and sweet. He was new to school life just as she was new to life outside of Miraculi.

But not long afterwards did Lila Rossi enroll at Du Ponte.

With a quick search on google revealed most of her tales to be just that, fiction.

Adrien and Mari dated for two years before he ended the relationship. It was because she

wouldn't stop trying to reveal Lila's lies. That it was hurting his image that he was seen with her. That if only they knew the truth it would be enough. Well, fine, goodbye Adrien was her only thought. Her head held high.

Cross my heart and hope to die

I don't need another guy

To fight my battles, to overshadow me

Don't ya know I'm dangerous?

Fire burnin' in my blood

I got this handled, I don't need rescuin'

Unfortunately for him she didn't stop trying to get her class to see the truth.

A side effect of the liar's influence was that she was ostracized from the rest of the class.

But that wasn't a priority. Miraculi was going to become public. So she had a revealing ceremony to prepare for.

But before that she was asked to join as a joint member of the Teen Titians and Young Justice.

She was to meet with the two teams at Mt. Justice so she was looking for Kaldur, Aqualad, as she exited the building.

She was making her way towards him when she heard it.

"Princess" Adrien called and pulled her to look at him.

You can call me a princess all you like

'Cause you love to keep me helpless by your side

But that ain't what I want, I'ma show you

"Can I do something for you Agreste?" she asked as calmly as she could. "Because if not I am meeting a friend I haven't seen in ages."

"Just make up with Lila" he started "she isn't hurting anyone. And when you do everyone will be your friend again."

She smiled and noticed Kaldur closer than before. "Kaldur good to see you again how was your flight?" Adrien turned to see who she was talking to, and Kaldur after a second of shock responded.

"Uneventful, is everything set?" he asked giving her a way out.

"Yes" Mari answered "Sorry Adrien, another time"

"B- 02 Aqualad, B- 34 Omni"

She was in a black formfitting sleeveless top that rose to form a mask covering her face to her nose. Dark red combat boots that were tucked into black motorbike pants. A red belt with a forest green sash that faintly resembled a skirt just under it. Her gloves and arm guards were black and grey, and all over were golden accents. Her hair was cut short and was pitch black and her eyes were a golden color with flecks of green. (Outfit)

After quick introductions she noticed him, Robin of the Teen Titians, was standoffish but was familiar oh so familiar. Then she saw his hand twitch towards his sword and tapped the butt of the hilt twice before dropping his hand.

That was all the confirmation she needed. As everything fell into place.

That little jerk.

Batman asked for her to spar, to assess her combat skills. As she predicted Robin stepped in to be her partner.

She pulled two red batons from the small of her back and they began. Yes they were evenly matched but then she decided to mess with him. She turned back time to feign a right but ducked and swept his legs from under him. With him distracted she created a Mirage of herself and another to make herself invisible. She snuck up behind him used venom to freeze him and flip his cape over his head while her Mirage took his sword.

"Tt. unfreeze me" he practically growled she noticed almost everyone flinch and took a step back.

"You sure that's what you want, while I have your sword?" she taunted. She noticed a few shot her looks of sympathy. Odd. As Robin stayed quiet. "Fine" she dropped venom and he charged "Have it your way little Prince."

She jumped and he seemed to freeze mid charge but she didn't. She created a shell-ter around him.

Which he crashed into. He stood up and was gaping at her.

She dropped shell-ter and was making a few final decisions with Batman, while Robin still hadn't moved 30 minutes later and his mouth still agape. By this time Nightwing had come over.

"I think you broke little wing" he chuckled.

"You think so." she responded with a slight question. "Close your mouth your going to catch flies Al Ghul."

"Yes, Your Majesty" he finally snapped out of his stupor.

She saw Nightwing and Batman share a look and then look between the two of them.

I'ma show you

How to treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

So treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

They explained the role of Miraculi in the world. How they had met and knew one another. Their engagement and finally the reopening of the Kingdom to the world. By now she dropped her transformation, meaning her eyes were back to bluebell and her hair was a midnight blue, and the bats had taken off their masks.

Then an idea hit.

"Your plotting something" Damian snapped her out of her planning.

"Plotting makes it seem malicious" she paused "I'm planning."

"I'll bite, what are you planning?" Nightwing, Dick as he introduced, asked.

"How would you like to come to my coronation and be some of the first outsiders in Miraculi?" she responded.

Eyes on me like I'm a prize

But you better recognize

I'm not your angel 'cause I belong to me

You can call me a princess all you like

'Cause you love to keep me helpless by your side

But that ain't what I want, I'ma show you

As she guessed the news of Miraculi opening up was all the news was covering. The hidden Kingdom known only by the Amazons and Atlantans, officially, was all everyone was talking about.

The fact that the opening was set for the coronation of the princess added to the suspense.

About a month before our teacher had news. "Due to a special invitation our class has been invited to attend the Princess’ coronation in Miraculi" that was when the class erupted.

In a week Lila convinced everyone she personally asked the Princess to invite the class as a favor to her. That she grew up in the castle with her and was made a lady in waiting. Two weeks until the coronation, she asked Damian to tweet that 'he can't wait to see his best friend again in Miraculi.’ Which caused a small discourse with a boy called Jon Kent of how he was Damian's best friend. Where he answered with 'female best friend. Better Kent' That Lila used to say it was her, and that he only used best friend instead of girlfriend.

I'ma show you

How to treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

So treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

The week before they left to Miraculi, in order to show them around. Before landing Mari changed into an emerald green dress with a mandarin collar. A jacket and belt with a duster in a dark silver trimmed with gold and matching gloves. Her hair was in a side braid and a thin golden circlet on her brow. A few of her classmates glared at her but she didn't pay them any attention. (Outfit)

She was the last out of the airport and you could feel the tension in the air. Lila was spouting some nonsense to the guards that were sent to retrieve them. Then they noticed her, every guard formed a straight line to the captain as they dropped onto one knee and bowed their heads. As she passed them they stood up.

"Captain Chase it is good to see you again” she smiled as he also rose.

"The honor is mine Princess" he bowed again.

You can call me a princess all you like

'Cause you love to keep me helpless by your side

But that ain't what I want,

She turned back to face the class. "Welcome to Miraculi, I am Princess Marinette Dawntreader. I hope you enjoy your stay. The guards will escort you in these carriages to the castle for your stay." she mounted Yin (Silver), who Captain Chase brought for her. "I will ride ahead, as they are in capable hands." She smiled and rode off towards home.

The next week was amazing. Between tours of the Kingdom her classmates were part of an honorary court, to glimpse into the Royal life.

Damian almost cut off Lila's head the first time they met. Most of the class realized that if Lila lied about knowing Marinette, well the Princess but Lila hated Mari, and dating Damian, what else had she lied about. Turns out they can use google and Mari received several apologies and offers to be friends. She accepted the apologies but not their offers.

"Why?" was a consensus of the group.

"You realize that you were deceived, but that does not excuse your actions. As I am also assuming you wish to be friends because of my status." That seemed to force them to think, thank Kwami.

I'ma show you

How to treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

So treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

But the best part of this week was after the apologies was hearing them all, Lila included, only address her with 'Your Majesty���.

[more-stuff-of-pi]

Believe Because He is Good

a/n: I’ve been thinking of writing something like this and I read these beauties by @volleychumps and was inspired to just write out what was in my head. This is very much a self-comfort fic regarding my personal experience, ofc featuring my og hq mans :)

notes: y/e/n = your ex’s name. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: sawamura daichi x fem!reader | genre: angst (w/happy ending) | warnings: asshole exes, implied past abuse (emotional, manipulation, slight physical), implied panic/anxiety attack | word count: 2,395

Balls were bouncing off the court, slapping the wood as Karasuno wound down, practicing serves. Even Noya tried his hand at serving, the ball smacking into the net. Tanaka laughed at Noya, ceasing when a volleyball knocked into his head. The culprit, Hinata, squeaked as Tanaka scrambled after him, Noya roaring with laughter all the while, gripping Asahi’s arm as he in turn knitted his brows together. Tsukishima rolled his eyes as Yamaguchi hid a giggle behind a hand.

Despite the chaos of Karasuno, an immense feeling of pure joy washed over you as you stood in the doorway of the gym. Nothing felt quite like seeing the team together. Their bond and their energy always lifted your spirits. And, of course, the handsome captain was the cherry on top.

“Great work today, guys!” Daichi called out to his team, signalling that practice was well over. They started to casually saunter over, Suga coming to take his place as vice next to his captain. “We’ve got a practice -- Nishinoya, Tanaka, shut it -- we’ve got a practice match next week, so I wanna see you all working hard to be ready. Shimizu and Yachi left early to run some errands for Sensei, so please do your best in cleaning up. Alright, get to it!” Daichi clapped, releasing the group to their chores.

As the group dwindled, you watched as Suga tapped Daichi’s arm and jutted his head in your direction. Confused, Daichi glanced towards you and instantly his face melted from slight exhaustion into absolute adoration. He bid goodbye to Suga who clapped him on the back with a mischievous grin in return, causing Daichi to cough.

You giggled, waving to Suga whose grin widened as he threw a peace sign up before turning to do his part in cleaning up. Daichi joined you at your place by the door, lightly touching a hand to your hip, leaning down to peck your lips in greeting.

“Hi, Y/n,” he welcomed warmly as he smoothly laced your hands together as if it were second nature.

“Hi yourself,” you replied. “Shimizu told me you’d need some help cleaning today.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Still, you didn’t have to come.”

“No,” you agreed, entertaining a wicked grin, “but I heard the captain of this team was really hot so I just had to come see for myself.”

Daichi grinned at your teasing. “Well, you should see the captain’s girlfriend. I heard that she’s a real looker.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, leaning in for another kiss which Daichi gladly gave. “So what can I help you with, Mr. Team Captain? Because with these boys you will most certainly need it.”

Daichi huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, you’re telling me.” He looked around, scanning the gym for a task you could take up. “Ah! You could take care of the water bottles, if you wouldn't mind.”

“Just dump them out, yeah?” Daichi nodded. “Seems simple enough. I’ll go do that and then when we’re done here we could go out for meat buns, maybe.”

“You struck another craving, haven’t you?”

“Your treat!” you teased in answer, snatching up the carton of bottles and escaping from the gym before Daichi could reply. Stepping out, you begin absentmindedly busying yourself with unscrewing the lids of each bottle as you make your way to the outdoor sinks. Focused on the task, you don’t notice the person in front of you until you’re crashing into them, effectively spilling the water you were on your way to empty. Well, that’s one way to do it.

“Oh, my gosh,” you crouched down, quickly picking up the bottles, “I am so so--” 

“Hi, Y/n,” the boy said, looking down at you with a tight lipped smile. He was a year your junior and also your ex. You had broken up with him at the beginning of summer vacation but had fortunately not seen him since, even through several months into the school year. You had foolishly hoped that your luck would continue and you would miraculously not ever see him again. But he was also a student at Karasuno and shared not only many of your extracurricular interests but also a handful of friends, of whom were responsible for setting you two up in the first place. What they didn’t know is that they were setting you up for disaster.

The relationship had started with no base friendship or really any genuine knowledge of the other besides the words of others from the grape vine. In retrospect, it was a plain bad idea. You two had fun at first but soon into your relationship, your boyfriend had begun pressuring you. He started with little things, subtly manipulating you until it was hard for you to recognize what your own boundaries genuinely were, as blurry as he made the lines. He was cunning and cornered you into situations you didn’t want to be in as easily as he could talk. He never complimented you, never made an effort for you, never validated you. Normally, you would stand up for yourself, speak out against this mistreatment, but something about him made you weak. And not in that head over heels kinda weak. The type of weak that drained you, that made you doubt yourself where you wouldn’t have before, that twisted your own strengths to look like hindrances.

It seems that even after months apart, he still had that same, nauseating effect on you.

“Hi, Y/e/n.” You forced a pretty smile, trying your best to stay polite and to ignore all of the sudden flowing emotions, not wanting to admit to him -- nor yourself -- that the damage he had done was still raw. “Sorry about that, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Still ever the clutz,” he laughed, something cruel and mocking.

You grit your teeth, smile impossibly tight. Whatever semblance of sanity you had left pleading for you to remain polite. “I’m sorry. Now if you’ll excuse me--”

He abruptly put a hand on your shoulder to stop you. “Where’re you heading?” The thinly coated politeness was easy to see through when you had suffered through the consequences of believing it.

“To rinse these.” You lifted the carton of now mostly empty water bottles. You went to move past him and tried to brush off his hand, but it only tightened, his thumb painfully digging into the dip between your shoulder and your collarbone. You inhaled shapely at the resulting shock and pain.

The movement reminded you of other times he had done this subtle control, other times he had wanted you to just shut up and comply, other times he coerced you, forced you--

“Why don’t I accompany you, hm? It’s been awhile since we’ve had the opportunity to chat. Let’s catch up,” he said with a toothy smile that even his eyes carried. The familiarity of this compelled you to learned submissiveness, breaths desperately trying to claw their way from your throat. You tried to swallow them down, but they were clawing faster than you could handle.

“I have a job to do, Y/e/n.” Your voice sounded weak, even to your own ears. You weren’t fooling him. 

His thumb dug even harder. “C’mon it’s the least you can do after purposely spilling that water all over me--”

“It was an accident--!”

He raised his other hand, going in to grab your arm -- to gain more control over you -- when someone caught his wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A voice said quietly, eerily so. Despite that, under its influence and familiarity, an intense calm washed over you, wrapping you in comfort and relief.

Turning, the image that greeted you of Daichi’s wrath was that of an angel of death, beautiful and fearsome in all of his glory. In his eyes he held enough heat to burn the ends of the earth. And it was all for you.

Your ex shook his wrist from Daichi’s grasp, trying to subtly shake it out. His grip on your shoulder loosened though he didn’t pull away. “I’m just catching up with an old… friend,” he spat, his polite veil thinly covering his malice.

“I’ve never known old friends to hurt each other in greeting.” Daichi was fuming, to say the least. Whatever you had against your ex, you were amazed at his sincere idiocracy. That, or his delusionment that he could genuinely stand level to Daichi.

“I wasn’t hurting her,” he sneered, “I was just saying hi.”

“You could do that without putting your hands on her. I suggest you take them off.”

Your ex snorted and glanced down at you, his hand squeezing reflexively. “Are you really just going to cower there and let him speak for you? You were always telling me what to do, I’m surprised you’re actually staying quiet.” You instinctively flinched away from him, tears threatening to sting your eyes. You knew he was wrong, that he was trying to hurt you, but that broken part of you couldn’t help but believe him.

Daichi, from the corner of his eyes, saw your distressed state, the sight causing his heart to lurch. In his eyes, you were absolutely incredible. So kind and giving and loving and it angered him to no end that anyone would be able to make you believe anything otherwise. He loved you, so incredibly much and he wanted nothing more than to protect you and keep loving you.

“Get off of me,” you whispered, trying to convince yourself that your ex no longer had any control over you.

Your ex smiled wickedly, finally taking his hand off. “There you go, sweetheart. All you had to do was ask.”

“And all you had to do was leave,” Daichi seethed.

“Sorry?” Your ex asked lamely.

“You’ve had your stupid fun, now leave. I’m giving you five seconds.” You looked at Daichi and almost flinched away from the absolute hatred burning in his features. The fire that was there before had grown impossibly hotter.

He laughed. Your asshole ex actually laughed in Daichi's face. "And what will you do?"

"Stay longer than five seconds and find out." As much as Daichi was wonderful and patient and mature, if something really got him going, he threw that all out the window. And perhaps that was Daichi's one fault. That he would gladly abandon reason when it came to you.

"Really?"

"Daichi," you breathed, "he's not worth it."

"No," your boyfriend agreed, "he's not. But it would be so satisfying." Without warning, Daichi lunged and gripped the front of your ex's shirt, pulling the shorter boy roughly to be chest to chest with him. Your ex gulped audibly, his tough persona crumbling away far too easily at a single physical touch. Granted, an angry Daichi held all the fury in the world barely contained in a wall of muscle. Even the word intimidating would be too much of an understatement. "Don't you ever touch her again. Don't look at her, don't talk to her -- in fact, stay far away from her," he snarled, boiling over like an animal on the hunt. He threw your ex away from him. You watched as he stumbled, tripping over his own feet and landing harshly on his ass. Daichi took advantage of this, squatting down over him before leaning in and whispering, "your five seconds are long gone. You can either leave or stay and find out what I can do."

Your ex glanced between you and Daichi, defiance somehow still lingering in his features. Seeing Daichi, though, had given you some courage and confidence as being around him often did. You believed in yourself again, just enough to look your ex in the eyes.

"Goodbye, Y/e/n."

He scrambled from his place on the ground (where he surely belonged, you thought bitterly) and disappeared from sight. You gasped for air, relieved he was gone, the anxiety that threatened to overtake you flooding from your body.

Daichi immediately turned to you, worry and love replacing the wrath in his eyes. "Can I hold you?"

"Please," you gasped, tears that rarely ever came already spilling silently down your cheeks.

With your permission, Daichi rushed from his crouch, pulling you gently to him as his hand came up to card through your hair. You clung onto him, holding him impossibly closer as you sobbed into his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, pushing hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear. You leaned into his touch, revelling in the love and comfort he provided.

"I love you, Y/n," he said as you lifted your gaze to meet his searching one, "I love you so much. I'm sorry you ever had to deal with that but… but I'm so glad that I'm here with you."

"I'm glad you're here with me, too," you sniffled, wiping at your face. "Where's everyone else?"

"Gone," he replied and you noticed for the first time that he was already changed out of his gym clothes. Just behind you was his discarded bag. "Suga and Asahi went on ahead. I thought it was odd that you didn't ever come back in so I came to check on you."

"I'm glad you did."

Daichi smiled softly. "I am too."

"I'm sorry you had to step in. I don't know why I couldn't handle it, I usually can it's just-- he--"

"Hey, hey," he lifted his other hand to your face, holding you as he gently coaxed you to look at him, "you have nothing to be sorry for."

"But--"

"No buts. You did a great job. You can't just erase what he did to you or how he made you feel. You're allowed to react the way you did, Y/n. Okay?"

You nod. "Okay."

Daichi smiled warmly. "Good. Now how about we put those bottles away and we go out for meat buns."

"Your treat?"

Daichi laughed, the sweet sound bringing a smile to your lips. "Yeah, my treat." He laced his fingers through yours, still grinning.

"Daichi?"

"Hm?" he hummed.

"Thank you. I love you."

His smile softened as he leaned down, kissing you softly. "I love you too, Y/n."

And because it was him, because Daichi was so kind and charming and good, you truly believed him.

taglist: @samwrights (ily mom)

[buckybarnesthehotshot]

i hate you but ii: i need to talk to sam (bucky barnes x reader)

i hate you but masterlist

summary: bucky and y/n can’t stand each other, but y/n needs help with her sister’s kids (enemies to lovers au)

word count: 2181

warnings: swearing, arguing, death, and this is not proofread

taglist is CLOSED

A/N: so uh this chapter kind of focuses more on y/n’s relationship with her sister and the kids. there’ll be more Bucky in the next chapter, dw

       “I’m on my way,” y/n sighed before dropping the call.

       y/n had never rushed out of the compound as quickly as she did that day. Hell, even on missions—much to everyone’s distaste—she took her precious time to make sure she had everything she needed with her. She slipped on a sweatshirt and a pair of sandals before bolting out her bedroom.

      The next thing she knew, she was in the elevator, asking FRIDAY to bring her to the basement level of the compound, anxiously gripping her phone on her side.

       With a ding, the elevator doors slid open and y/n, once again, ran as fast as her legs could take her, and got into her car (which thankfully, was voice activated) and drove away from the compound and towards the precinct.

       y/n, her thoughts spiraling, gripped tightly onto the steering wheel as tears obstructed her vision. She was having difficulty coming to terms with her sister’s death. Yes, she hasn’t seen her sister—or any of her kids for that matter—but it was difficult to deal with. How the hell was she supposed to deal with the fact that her baby sister, the one she didn’t visit for the purpose of keeping her safe, was gone.

       Was it all because of HYDRA? Was it because of some illness y/n was never made aware of? Her thoughts were starting to get the better of her until she was snapped out of her trance by FRIDAY’s voice telling her to “turn right.”

       The compound was a fifteen-minute ride away from the precinct. She arrived at the slightly run-down police precinct. Parking the car and slamming the door behind her, she speed walked into the precinct only to be stopped by a man sitting at the front desk.

       “Name and purpose?” he questioned her, staring up at her expectantly, his dark brown eyes boring into her e/c ones.

       “I’m looking for Elise Jones and Mike Jonas? I’m Cassy Langdon’s sister, Y/N L/N” she spoke to the man stationed at the front desk. He looked up, handed her the logbook and a pen, and spoke.

       “I’m going to need your I.D, ma’am,” the man questioned, holding his hand out. y/n huffed, with the rush she was in, she forgot to bring along anything other than her phone. “I don’t think I have my I.D on me right now, officer,” y/n shook her head.

       “Well, that’s too bad. I’m afraid I can’t let you in without your I.D, ma’am,” the officer shook his head.

       “Officer, I just received a phone call telling me that my sister’s dead and I have custody of her children. I don’t think you want to test me,” y/n chuckled, her voice raspy and tired.

       “That’s sad and all, but I still need your I.D,” the officer narrowed his eyes at y/n. She took a deep breath before speaking words she’d heard Tony Stark say a handful of times while trying to enter bars.

       “You need an I.D? y/n l/n, look me up because this face is my I.D,” y/n smirked, signing her name onto the log book. Once again, the officer narrowed his eyes at her before directing his attention to his computer screen and typing something into it before his eyes widened.

       “You’re an Avenger?” the officer’s eyes widened, scrambling up to his feet to salute.

       “I wasn’t in the military like the other Avengers,” y/n stuttered, shaking her head repeatedly, “a simple ‘oh hey, you weren’t lying about your identification, you can totally enter the precinct’ would do.”

       “Of course, ma’am,” the officer nodded, returning to his seat.

       y/n made her way further into the precinct and she saw what she assumed to be the waiting area since there were quite a few people seated in the room.

       “Miss L/N, over here,” a familiar voice came from one of the corners of the room. She looked over to the source of the voice and saw a woman, based off how she looked, she must have been in her late forties or early fifties, clad in a blue pantsuit with a matching blazer. y/n made her way to the woman, ignoring all the stares she was getting from everyone, and taking a seat parallel to her.

       “I’m going to make this quick, why am I the one taking custody of my sister’s three kids? What happened to their dad? You know, what’s his face?” y/n’s brows furrowed, unable to recall her brother-in-law’s name. After all, she never liked him for her little sister.

       “Mr. Langdon is currently in a holding cell,” Elise explained, smoothing out her pants as she readjusted her position on the seat.

       “That son of a bitch killed my sister, didn’t he?” y/n chuckled sadly upon hearing Elise’s words.

       “Well, your sister died in a drunk driving accident. Mr. Langdon was driving and the investigators are currently taking Ethan and Olivia’s statements on what happened and from the looks of it, Mr. Langdon could be charged with homicide,” a man interrupted her, also making his presence known.

        “You’re taking the kid’s statements? Wait, they weren’t in the car when it crashed, were they?” y/n panicked, her eyes widening in concern.

       “Ethan and Olivia weren’t included in the half of the population that went out with the blip. I don’t think they’re as young as you remember them,” the man explained before a look of realization found its way to his face, “I almost forgot, I’m Mike Jonas, your sister’s lawyer.”

       “y/n l/n, but you already knew that,” y/n shook his hand before continuing, “what about the other one; Jackson, my sister’s youngest?”

       “There’s a room in the precinct for the younger kids. Cassy’s kids who were affected by the blip are there. Jackson’s in there with his younger sister, Allie,” Elise smiled reassuringly.

       “So, there’s four of them, now? Damn it, I can’t believe my sister had another kid with that prick,” y/n rolled her bloodshot eyes in disappointment. Her mind flashed back to when they were teenagers and would talk about their futures.

       “I want a big house, a good husband, and a big family so the house would never feel lonely. I want you there too, y/n. Oh my god, the kids are going to love you!” Cassy smiled up at y/n, her e/c eyes beaming with excitement.

       “Cass, don’t you think your husband would hate it if I lived with you guys? Plus, I don’t think I’d be good with children anyways,” y/n chuckled, shaking her head.

        “Can you at least promise you’ll visit us often?” Cassy’s e/c eyes pierces into y/n’s e/c ones.

      “I promise,” y/n smiled, locking pinkies with Cassy.

       Her eyes glossed over with tears as her mind wandered to that memory. She knew damn well broke that promise. There was a point in time when y/n kept that promise and she visited Cassy’s house every week, always bringing along gifts for her niece and nephews.

       “You spoil them,” Cassy chuckled as Ethan, Olivia, and Jackson tore off the wrapping paper from the boxes she handed them.

       “It’s not my fault I’m the cool aunt,” y/n winked in response, pulling an eyeroll from Cassy.

       Those visits only ever stopped when y/n’s position as an Avenger began to pose as a threat to the family’s safety. What if HYDRA caught her during one of her visits to the house? What if she couldn’t protect them when HYDRA decided to use them against her?

       She couldn’t have that on her conscience, so she abruptly cut off all communications with her sister and her family. She didn’t want to put their lives in danger.

      To her, it’d been two years since her last visit. To Ethan and Olivia? It must’ve been seven years. Damn Thanos and his mission to “help” the universe. y/n began to feel uncomfortable in her seat. Would the kids recognize her? Would they accept the fact that they had to live with her now?

       “Your sister, she once discussed you getting custody of her children if she and Mr. Langdon were to pass. She wrote about this in her will,” Mike explained, handing y/n a manila envelope.

       She opened the envelope and she pulled out one crisp piece of printed paper—y/n assumed this was the will itself—and six envelopes. She was surprised to find one with her name written in her sister’s handwriting too; even after she’d abandoned her, Cassy still left y/n something.

       “What’s this?” y/n questioned, holding up the envelope.

       “Cassy wrote you a letter. She made sure to put emphasis on the fact that you don’t have to open it immediately. She said you would’ve taken a while before you decided to open it,” Mike explained, earning a nod from y/n as she tucked the envelope back into the bigger one as she read through the will.

       There, in the section concerning the wellbeing of Cassy’s children, y/n saw her name and the conditions of which y/n would take custody of her children.

       “If, however, my husband, Eric Langdon, is somehow unfit (an example of it being under the influence of alcohol for 2-4 days a week) or unavailable (an example of this having him jailed or god forbid dead), I entrust the custody of my four children, Ethan Langdon, Olivia Langdon, Jackson Langdon, and Allison Langdon, with my older sister, y/n l/n.”

       “Well, when can I meet the kids?” y/n smiled sadly, tucking the piece of paper back in the envelope.

       “They should be done questioning Olivia and Ethan in a few minutes. For now, I need to talk to you about how living conditions are going to be with the kids,” Elise requested, earning a nod from y/n.

       “I’d like to think I have more than enough to support them without needing to dig into the funds my sister left for them. The only issue I have is that my apartment’s a two-bedroom apartment and I think the kids are going to want more space than that, so I swear I’ll try finding a better place. One with more than enough room for the kids,” y/n explained, earning a nod from Elise. y/n remembered how big Cassy’s dreams were. Sure, she liked being with family, but she also wanted her kids to have space to move around, to play. y/n owed it to Cassy to give the kids the life she wanted for them.

       “It sounds like you have the living conditions under control. I like how you didn’t mention letting them move into the Avengers Compound, though I am aware it’s where you’re currently living?” Elise raised a brow expectantly.

      “My apartment, it’s for when I need to get away from all the hero stuff. I don’t think it’d be great for the kids to be exposed to everything going on in the tower,” y/n chuckled, the events of earlier flashing through her brain.

       “I see. But I want to discuss your involvement in their lives. Their mom just passed and their dad’s getting incarcerated. I know being an Avenger can be demanding, but I’m telling you now that you might need some time off for them to get used to having you as their guardian,” Elise explained, earning another nod from y/n.

       “I’ll let my teammates know I’m taking a break now, if you’ll excuse me,” y/n nodded out, getting up from her seat and finding a more secluded area in the precinct to ring up her colleagues.

       “Hello?” a gruff voice responded and y/n groaned internally. Of all people who could pick up the phone in the tower, why did Bucky Barnes have to pick up?

       “Barnes, I need to talk to Sam,” y/n was quick to cut the chase.

       “Why? Did you burn down another kitchen?” Bucky quipped, pulling an eye roll from y/n.

       “No, but this is really important so can I please talk to Sam?” y/n strained, her jaw clenching.

       “Whatever you’re going to tell Sam, you can tell me. I’ll let him know,” Bucky spoke in a suspiciously innocent tone.

       “I don’t trust you with relaying information, so not a chance,” y/n, for the second time in two minutes, rolled her eyes at Bucky’s antics.

       “Alright, fine. Sam! y/n burned down another kitchen!” Bucky called out.

       “I didn’t burn down ano—” y/n started only to get cut off by Sam’s voice.

      “Chill out, I know you didn’t burn down the kitchen, but why are you calling? Can’t you just leave your room and talk to us like a normal person?” Sam chuckled.

       “Because I’m not in the tower. I’m at the 87th precinct which is about 15 minutes away from the tower and I might need like 2-4 weeks off,” y/n explained, hearing a gasp from the other side of the line.

       “You got arrested?”

       “No, but I have this family emergency and it might take a while to deal with. I’ll explain it when I get back, but for now, I’m letting you know I’m taking a break,” y/n explained before ending the call and tucking her phone away in her pocket.

a/n: this has nothing to do with this but ughhhh theres this steve oneshot im having a hard time writing

i hate you but taglist: @sarcastic-britt / @kmuir1​ / @shower-me-with-roses​ / @justab-eautifulmess​ / @thomasthetankson​ / @x-abi-sharp-x​ / @intovert-gone-wild​ / @brittanymcsharry​ / @leaving-the-past-behind​ / @xoxabs88xox​ / @valeriiaaass​ / @mylifeiscrazy0423​

Forever tags: @spatium-viatorem​ / @sxphiiwrld​ / @strangersstranger​ / @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ / @cutie1365​ /

MARVEL TAGLIST: @captainamerica-is-bae​

BUCKY TAGLIST: @missmidnightxo​

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 79: The Rites of Blood and Knowledge

Chapters: 79/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg 13(Blood)

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),Thor(Marvel) Wanda Maximoff, vision, Bruce Banner

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time, In Reference To Blood Mixing Mentioned In The Eddas

Summary:  The great ceremonies begin.

The dreams were powerful that night, whisking you off to far away places, off to the increasingly familiar form of the gargantuan space artist. There was a strange nostalgia out here that you were slowly coming to recognize as being not your own. How could it be? You had never physically been here, only visited in dreams.

With green and blue sparkling at your right and left, you drifted along in their orbit, yet another asteroid in a primordial star system.

First Wielder.

The concept filtered through your mind, trailing a warm and wistful longing behind it.

Peace. Eternity. Creation.

Before battle. Before separation. Before imprisonment.

Before all.

The star system was strange: every time you came here, the sun was a little different. A variable star, its brightness oscillating, it was still young and new.

There was only one planet in this system, located fairly close to the star. The presence of the colossal giant perturbed the asteroids and gas around the star, but their great mass prevented them from coalescing.

Comets formed in great numbers from the gas and ice beyond them, whizzing past them, inspiring new drawings. Asteroids clumped up against them; a brush of their great hand sent them flying, to collide into one another, to spin away from their unstable orbit, and join the comets on their cross-system journey, to crash into the singular planet.

The colossus watched with the patience of true immortality, as the planet burned and erupted, filled up with water, and clouds, and sky.

Thoughtfully, they regarded an asteroid they held in one hand, then, with their color-stained fingers, they began to draw.

The wistfulness and regret reached their peak, and you woke up in the empty bathtub, with a thought ringing in your head.

The Wielders always came to a bad end.

                                                                            ******

Loki was somewhat disgruntled to discover that you'd been having these dreams without him. He didn't scold, but his concern was clear. You described them in as much detail as you could, but, to your dismay, he didn't have any explanation for what you'd been seeing while you slept.

It would just have to remain a mystery. The upcoming day was going to be far too busy to dwell on it.

Both you and Loki had dressed in your absolute finest, your armor polished bright, your skirt covered in embroidery, your chest and neck festooned in beads of carved gold and pearl. You still felt a little bit like you were so buried in finery that you became invisible, but you tried to carry it with pride. All of this had been put together especially for you, and that hard work deserved to be shown off.

Loki was so magnificent in his fur-trimmed cloak, and elaborate helmet, you had to firmly tell yourself not to spend the whole day just staring at him all moon-eyed.

Maybe just a few hours.

Today, the Second Feast, was really the main event, as far as this Buridag was concerned. At noon, you would participate in the Blood Taking ceremony, wherin you would 'mingle blood' with the royal brothers, in order to be formally adopted into Asgardian high society. This would cement your status as high enough to advise Loki as one of the most important members of his personal entourage. And before the evening feast, you would perform the ritual that would confirm you as an official Seidkona.

But before that, you would have the time to run around and enjoy the festival.

It was set up like a combination job fair and reenactment fest. Stalls lined the streets and filled courtyards, peopled by the crafters of Asgard. Smiths, armorers, and carpenters, goldsmiths, lapidaries, scrimshanders, and glassblowers. Weavers, spinners, leatherworkers, and dyemakers, artists, musicians, chefs, academics, mages, stonemasons, construction workers, scribes, dancers, and cheesemongers. All the sights, and sounds, and scents, and flavors that made up Asgard were being demonstrated and celebrated.

Your Father and Tara joined you in the streets, and Loki reluctantly released you into their care, having some preparation left to do.

Tara, flouncing around in an apron dress and domed brooches very much like your usual style, gushed over how beautiful you looked, and your father, rather sheepishly dressed in an Asgardian greatcoat and cowl, agreed openly.

“You look like a princess.” he said. “A real one. You...You walk different now. Talk different. You look so strong.”

“Is it me, or are all these people following us?” Tara asked, not very quietly. A few chagrined people in the crowd that flowed in your wake down the street peeled away, and wandered in different directions. The rest either had less shame, or had orders to keep watch over you.

You spared the group a glance. There appeared to be a solid mix of Asgardians and humans, several of which had their phones out. You surmised there would be a new wave of photos of you on the internet over the next few days.

“Keep your cowl up dad.” You advised.

“Want me to run them off?” he offered.

“Nah. I don't really mind if they take pictures of me. Can't really hurt anything.”

“Wasn't so great last time.” Tara pointed out. “I spent a lot of time stanning for you.”

“Well, last time was sensationalized bullcrap. This time is a nice festival. I mean, check out that guy!”

That Guy was a glassblower in his stall, spinning a huge, bubble thin amphora of rose pink glass. You had seen its like before, but never seen one made.

“Oh, they age crystal mead in those! The pink lets in the right wavelengths of light that give it it's shimmering quality.”

“What's crystal mead?” your father asked.

“Don't try more than a few sips, if anyone offers.” you warned. “Asgardians have iron guts. Their booze is way too strong.”

“Yeah, they warned us about that on the plane.” Tara said. “And yesterday, it looked like they had everything divided up by species, so no one got the wrong thing.”

You took them around to various demonstrations: spinners spinning yarn, brewers preparing several of Asgards many alcoholic beverages, apothecaries showing how basic medicines were made, a cobbler putting together a nice pair of boots.

“So, Asgard's really advanced, right?” Tara asked. “Why is everything like Ye Olden Times?”

“Asgard's never had that big a population, even at it height. There just isn't that much demand for mass production. Most things are bespoke, or self-made. Quality depends entirely on the maker, so that, of course, becomes a competition. And that, in turn, becomes a matter of cultural pride. Also, they have thousands of years to get good at what they do, so Asgardian made goods are super high quality, and they judge personal worth by that. I don't think they'll ever automate; it would go against a lot of what they stand for.”

You snagged the three of you a traditional Asgardian snack; fat sausages, wrapped in savory pastry. You thought it might be good to have something else in your stomach before the first ceremony.

Tara called them Asgardian corn dogs, which you couldn't wait to share with Loki, if only to watch his nose wrinkle with disdain over the undignified term.

“So when do we have to let you go?” Tara asked.

You checked your phone for the time, stuffing the last of your sausage into your mouth.

“Eh, I've got a few minutes left. Better start heading over though.”

Your winding path through the courtyards took you past minstrels, impromptu dances, and games, to a large, tall dais that had been put together as a temporary mirror to the throne room. It towered over the City Hall courtyard like a ziggurat. You'd be up there soon enough, but currently...

“Who's that?” your father asked, pointing at a man standing at the top. “Doesn't look like Thor.”

You squinted up at the figure, his bright armor shining in the rarefied sunlight.

“Ah, That's Heimdall. He's the Guardian of Asgard, and god of...uh, sight? I think? Vigilance? It's not quite that neat and simple, you know? The whole 'God Of' thing is a bit more complicated than that.”

“So that's a god?” your father asked. “How can you tell? Are they all gods? What does that even mean?”

“All good questions. Mostly because they are very hard to answer.”

Your father and Tara jerked at the sudden new voice, and, not for the first time, you found yourself amazed at how easily a man of the sheer size and importance as the king of Asgard could sneak up on people.

“Your Majesty.” you said calmly, inclining your head. Your father and Tara dipped into awkward bows, a little awed by the mythical figure before them. Thor didn't necessarily demand obeisance, but he didn't exactly discourage it either; he let people act as they felt appropriate.

“Not every Asgardian is a god.” Thor explained. “Those that are go by the term 'Aesir', a common name through most of the realms for beings of that type. You are born Aesir; you cannot become one by outside influences. However, Aesir nature doesn't always become apparent at birth, it often doesn't manifest until adolescence. As for what it means to be Aesir...that doesn't have so straightforward an answer. I leave it to the philosophers, who, incidentally, are in booth seventy-eight.

Anyway, I have come to collect your daughter for the ceremony. There isn't much time left, so we'd all better get in place. If you go through those two poles there right now, you can get very good seats.”

“This could get a bit weird.” You warned. “It's a ceremony more ancient than any recorded human practices, so it's probably going to seem archaic.”

“Oh, it's not so bad.” Thor said. “It's been updated and refined over all those years. For instance, everyone remains clothed now, and there are at least seventy percent fewer entrails used.”

Your father coughed, and you rolled your eyes. Thor's sense of humor was difficult for you to understand, considering how serious he was about everything. The thing about Thor's jokes was that he might have been joking about something that had really happened, or he might have been joking about something he'd completely made up, but he would never specify which.

“On that note, I've got to go.” you said. “Entrails to sort, and all that.”

Your father coughed again, Tara patting him compassionately on the back.

“Good luck!” she called to your receding back.

                                                                                ******

“Now, you've been fully briefed on what will happen during this ceremony, correct?” Thor asked, as the two of you loitered near the back stairs of the temporary dais. People were filtering in to seats and standing room around the courtyard, waiting for things to start.

“I think so.” you said. “If I've got this right, there's going to be a special dance-”

“The Alignment of the Celestial and Worldly bodies, yes.” Thor said. “It symbolizes everything that must come together to bring the 'adoptee' to the greater 'family'. In this case, it will tell the story of how you came here to join our family.”

A soft warmth crept up your neck, and heated your ears beneath your helmet. You knew it was all socio-symbolism, but the notion of 'joining the family' hit differently now that you were on intimate terms with Loki.

“And then all the braziers will have some kind of incense thrown in, and in the smoke, we'll all go up the stairs like we're magically appearing. Honestly, it sounds like it'll look really cool.”

“All ceremonies contain a bit of theatrics.” Thor agreed. “Perhaps that is the most important part. Or that's the part that makes it important. I wish we still had some of the traditional ceremonial incense, but we just don't have access to the materials anymore. You would have liked it; it was much more floral than most of what you have here. We did manage to get some lavender though. That should be nice.”

“Maybe one day, when the Bifrost is more stable.” You said. It did sound very nice. “Loki said that you, and he, and Heimdall will sing a blessing song?”

“Yes, a divine blessing from a trio of Aesir. It's got to be three. And then...”

“Yeah. And then.” Loki had told you about the bloodletting. He had been very frank about it. “I know. I'm nervous, but not afraid.”

Thor nodded. “Sometimes there are unforeseen effects, but never anything bad. You'll be perfectly safe.”

“I know. The nervousness just comes from knowing it'll hurt. Even if just for a short time.”

You buckled under Thor's hand when it came down on your shoulder, enveloping the whole thing.

“Loki would rather slice out his own guts than draw your blood, trust me. He's been trying to figure out how to get around it for weeks. Unfortunately, the blood is the most important part of the magic. It carries all of the power. It's very old magic: according to him, this is practically the only part of the ritual that has remained unchanged from the beginning.”

“Did there really used to be entrails and naked people, or was that a joke?”

“Ehhh, well, yes and no. This ceremony originated with the Vanir, and they are not opposed to nakedness under certain circumstances. In this case, everyone who attended was expected to leave the clothes they came in at the door, and wear a special loincloth instead. This was actually to prevent violence, by barring hidden weaponry from being brought to ceremony grounds. So rather than pure nudity, everyone was dressed as scantily as was possible.

As for entrails...unfortunately yes, that was also a part of it. A seer would perform a divination using the entrails of a slaughtered animal. That practice was going out of fashion, even before the war, and I don't think anyone today even remembers how it was done.”

You shuddered. Yes, it was a different culture, and a long time ago, but it still grossed you out.

“I'll have to remember to thank Loki for trying to get me out of it, even if he wasn't successful.” You said. He really did put in a lot of effort behind the scenes. If only he were more open about some of that effort, so you could appreciate it more.

“He was adamant about the bull.” Thor said. “Demanded a private ritual the night before. Put your helmet up on the pillar, then sacrificed and butchered the beast himself. Insisted on it. Did our ancestors proud, but you know he knows his way around a knife.”

“I wish he'd told me. I was really stressed about that whole thing. I'm glad, in the end, that he was thinking of me, but I really wish I'd known. I wouldn't have lost so much sleep!”

“It was a little last minute.” Thor admitted. “I approved it the instant he explained, but we had to do it pretty much immediately afterwards. He really should have told you, but I fear my brother is usually more invested in the making of plans, rather than what to do once they come to fruition. I feel you will be a positive influence on him, though.”

Even though he was wearing his eyepatch, rather than the mismatched prosthetic, his one blue eye was open and sincere.

“I think so too.” you said. You already were influencing each other. It was impossible to live so close, to sleep in the same bed, without doing so. But Loki did have a bad habit of assuming things, a by-product of his upbringing as a leader, you supposed. You would simply have to speak up more.

Perhaps you had gotten too comfortable. But perhaps you wanted to be too comfortable. It might be a holdover from your year of struggle, but having someone who wanted to do so much for you was very tempting. You knew it would be better to strive for a balance, but you also knew that, unless Loki somehow diminished himself severely, the two of you would never truly be equals.

But you admired that greatness, and somehow, those all too common flaws in him made him easier for you to love. They made him so real.

An ambling drum beat started up, accompanied by the brassy ting of zills, and a flute. Loki joined you and Thor in peeking out around the dais, just as a group of dancers spread out around the courtyard.

You'd been told that the dancers represented personages from history and legend. You were pretty sure that the three women who orbited the dance stage equidistant from one another must be the Norns, and you assumed the cluster of people standing beneath a glittering tree branch and clanging their zills were probably meant to be the ancestors of the royal family.

The dance told a story of a woman dressed like you, and a man dressed like Loki, wearing silver bells at their wrists and ankles that jingled with every step. They made everything look so much more graceful and sensual than it really had been: Holding hands like the rune branding had been on purpose, dancing circles with each other, like everything had been friendly and not at all awkward from the very beginning. How elegantly 'you' swooned into 'his' arms, while the assassin was caught. How triumphantly 'you' defended 'him' against the Huldra. And how beautifully 'he' clasped 'you' in a romantic, yet properly chaste embrace.

There was none of the blood, none of the fear, or anger, or petulance, or confusion. No loss, or loneliness, or uncertainty.

But that was how it worked, wasn't it? None of those things could be shown to the general public. This was ceremony. This was spectacle! This was what would be remembered.

The pair danced away, out of sight, the ancestors retreated, and the Norns raised their arms in unison. All around the courtyard, attendants dumped incense into the torches and braziers, sending thick smoke and mysterious perfume wafting over the entire area.

“Show's on, darling.” Loki said, grasping your shoulders, and leading you up the stairs. A new wave of anxiety washed over you as you rose above the sweet smelling clouds like a legend. Heimdall stepped aside to let you pass, Loki and Thor leading you right up to the edge of the elevated platform, where waited a podium, upon which rested a brass bowl. An unfamiliar rune was stamped on its bottom. So that was where the magic would happen.

Thor held his hand out over an unlit brazier just in front of the podium and concentrated. Scarcely a moment later sparks danced between his fingers and jumped to ignite the fuel. The light illuminated the clouds of incense, obscuring the audience. Cut off thus from every other person out there, you didn't flinch as the trio of gods each placed a hand on you, and began to sing.

You couldn't help but wonder if they had done this before. It was a complex song, with rising and falling harmonies, parts layered over one another, something that couldn't have been easy to learn. As their voices dipped and flowed, you felt the power rising, just like out in the camp, months ago. Why could you sense divine power? Was it because of your magic? Was there anyone out in the crowd that could feel it too?

Thor's good eye had begun to sparkle with crackling white energy, the power of the blessing he was singing into you. You assumed Heimdall, behind you, was lighting up orange, and when you turned your head to glance at Loki, you were suffused with the gentle glow of the blue light from your dreams.

All of the anxiety drained out of you at the touch of that light, your arms dropping to your sides as relaxation took over.

Everything was all right. Loki was right beside you. Thor and Heimdall were with you, their voices reverberating through you, their blessing upon you. The rare winter sun filtered down over you like a blanket, as the last notes of the Aesir's song filled your head.

Loki gently took your hand, gazing earnestly into your face as the calming light faded from his eyes.

“Forgive me, my love.” he whispered.

A sudden, painful jab, ripped you out of your cocoon of sunny calm. With a sharp cry, you turned to stare at your fingertip, pierced deeply by the tip of one of Loki's knives.

Loki held your hand over the brass bowl, letting the blood drip, enough to cover the rune at the bottom. Then he tenderly bandaged the tiny wound, lines of regret around his eyes. Thor held his hand out for a slash, and then Loki turned the blade on himself. Blood slowly filled the little bowl, as a light throbbing started in your head. Every drop that rippled its surface was like a giant heartbeat within you.

Once it was full, Thor and Loki began singing again, lifting the small bowl between them. They held it up to the sun, and then poured it onto the burning brazier. The fire sputtered, sizzling, sending a huge cloud of smoke directly into your face. You gagged on the scent of burning blood, practically bathed in it, a layer of death-scent on your skin. The song cut through it, thrumming in your ears, an echoing promise of cherishment and fidelity.

The blood burned down into nothing, the smoke slowly clearing. All of the people in the courtyard came back into view, the upturned faces solemn. The dancers below picked up the chorus.

And you understood them.

Loki took your hand and lifted it up, flourishing to the crowd. They cheered, while you stood there, stunned. You understood what they were saying, their enthusiastic calls, their songs. The blood smell lingered in your nose, the throbbing swiftly receding from your head.

He led you to the stairs down as you wobbled, but you never made it all the way down. Dizziness overcame you, and you collapsed into Loki's arms.

[starfiretheninja]

BBRae- Shaking Off the Dust

This was originally a piece for the BBRae Zine, but that got cancelled. Regardless, I was proud that I got another piece done for these two and still want to bring it into the world. Enjoy!

~

Despite being part demon, a creature associated with darkness, Raven had a standard sleep schedule. The headaches induced from staying up too late tended to aggravate her powers and often required a longer meditation session to alleviate. On this particular night, however, the trilogy Raven was close to finishing was simply too much of a cliffhanger to leave until morning. Her extended reading session paid off, as the book ended on a surprisingly non-cliché and satisfactory note and she was only suffering from mild thirst.

Nothing a little tea can’t cure, Raven thought as she stood up, stretching her tense legs.

Leaving the quiet of her room, she noticed a dim light down the hall. Shuffling past Beast Boy’s room, she blinked wearily at the light that peeked out from under his door. Only unintelligible mumbling sounded from inside. Raven shrugged, figuring he was up late playing a tough level of Mega Monkey: Apes Rising on his GameDude console again. He hadn’t done that in some time, but old habits die hard.

With that, Raven continued on her way. Having made it to the kitchen and satisfied her parched throat with warm herbal tea, she came back past Beast Boy’s room. This time, she heard a yelp, followed by the crashing of Beast Boy and what sounded like a stack of comic books hitting the floor.

Raven sighed. She couldn’t let that go uninvestigated. At the very least, she felt she had to know if Beast Boy had managed to break a toe tripping over his massive collection of nerdy treasures again.

Opening the door, she spied Beast Boy rubbing his face. Around him were his possessions, pulled from his closet and tossed around the room in what, to her eyes, was a haphazard mess. The garbage can in the corner was stuffed well past the brim with dolls—action figures, as he insisted—that Raven was certain he had had since the Tower was first built. Beast Boy caught sight of her. Surprised, then sheepish, he attempted to stand amidst the scattered pile surrounding him.

“Care to explain what you’re up to on this once peaceful night?” she inquired as he morphed into a hummingbird, flitted over the pile, and returned to his human form right in front of her.

“I’m, uh, cleaning up a bit,” he said, clearing his throat.

“If by ‘cleaning’ you mean ‘purging your room of all of your cherished comics and collectibles’.”

“If you’d like to help, then it would get done quicker. Heck, you could pick it all up with your powers.” He gestured towards the remaining work. Raven didn’t take the bait.

“I’d rather not be partially responsible for the post-cleaning regret you could have.” She took a pointed look at his belongings, as if to emphasize just how much he was suggesting tossing out.

“Aw come on, Raven.” He picked up a random comic by his feet and waved it. “Do you really think I’ll miss Goo Goblins #37? I think I’ve moved on past that one.”

Raven shrugged in slight agreement. The admittedly campy-looking comic was certainly goofy enough to make a seventeen-year-old question if he was engaging in appropriate level material. Still, Beast Boy was always one to cling to childish endeavors.

“If you insist,” is all she could comment. If he was truly ready for such an adjustment, she wouldn’t be the one to stop him.

Grinning satisfactorily, Beast Boy took to scooping up his disheveled comics and setting them in lumps just outside his room. Raven stepped further into his room to allow him through the open door.

“I’ll just set these out here for now. Then I can get them into boxes and maybe even pass them out to some kids at their schools. I know a few Dirty Dan fans who would kill for some of these issues,” Beast Boy thought out loud, already beaming at the thought of making a kid’s day.

“Just as long as their parents don’t object,” Raven snarked, hoping that Dirty Dan wasn’t about a kid who refused to take a bath. The last thing Robin would want was a surge of complaints from parents claiming they were bad influences on the youth.

Watching Beast Boy’s slow progress, Raven’s curiosity got the better of her and she leaned down to investigate what kind of reading Beast Boy had invested himself in for all of these years. There were plenty of brightly colored covers of fictional superhero groups. Why these were written when literal superheroes saved the world was beyond her. Beneath that was a handful of light horror, with cartoonish monsters chasing hapless teenage victims. Perfect for a demographic who hadn’t witnessed literal demons in their lifetime. Next was . . .

Raising it up for a closer look, it dawned on her just what she was holding.

“Wait, is this-?”

“Crud! My bad!” Beast Boy rushed over to carefully take the book from her hands. “This must have been mixed with my Deranged Daredevils collection. I wasn’t going to throw this one out, promise.”

Beast Boy reached over her to place the book on the singular chair in the room. So far, the supposed ‘safe’ pile consisted of childhood classics, Insect Care for Dummies, 1001 Drop Dead Puns, and a few wildlife encyclopedias. The newest addition was gifted to Beast Boy by Raven for his first birthday after the team had formed. Back then, she hardly knew him, but didn’t want to deny him the joy of receiving a gift from someone he always reached out to. So, she decided on something that could either come across as a gag gift or a genuine appeal to his interests, despite her complete uncertainty on whether or not he would appreciate it.

When he ripped open the packaging and read the title, The Essential Calvin and Hobbes, he lit up.

“Oh, cool! I’ve read some of these before! I don’t know half the words that come out of the kid’s mouth, but the tiger is pretty cool! Thanks, Raven.” He gave her a classic toothy smile and Raven was admittedly relieved that he didn’t reject the gift or feel any disappointment.

That was years ago, though. Was he still so attached to that particular book? Raven had given him far more personal gifts since getting to know him on a more familiar level.

“Why is that one an exception?” she posed the question as he squatted next to the pile she was looking through.

“Hmm?” Beast Boy looked back for clarification, and a light bulb went off.

“Oh! That’s easy. Because you gave it to me. You probably knew I wouldn’t get half the jokes, but you took a chance anyway. Maybe I’d get it eventually, you know?” His voice trailed off at that last statement.

There it was. Something truly was nagging at him, then. That something had pushed him to embark on a spontaneous cleaning spree to either distract or remedy. While Beast Boy was, oddly enough, the toughest one on the team for her to read empathetically, he was normally easy to understand by his actions alone. However, she had noticed a pattern with him over the years. He was the best at wearing a mask. Robin attempted to remain stoic, but one could still tell what he was feeling. Beast Boy, on the other hand, played pretend. Concealing aggravation and hurt with a stream of jokes was his fallback. This left him with buried sadness, which was never good for the long-term psyche.

Considering how to approach the situation, Raven supposed prodding him a bit would perhaps bring more clarity as to the cause of his distress.

“Hmm. I figured your vocabulary would expand.”

“When, though?” Beast Boy let slip out. He asked so sullenly, the way that a child would when they were seeking approval. Raven recognized this tone from her time spent with Melvin as she began her early teen years. The girl wanted more independence, but a part of her still sought to know that Raven was proud of her in everything that she did.

Upon realizing his slip-up, Beast Boy’s eyes darted around the room. He nabbed a toy from the pile before him and held it up.

“Does this one bring back memories or what?” he chuckled, beaming a large smile. It was the singing monkey with the cymbals that sounded while Raven’s manifested fear chased the Titans throughout the Tower.

Raven sighed softly. That was a poor diversion and he knew it.

“Beast Boy, why are you doing this?” she queried, gesturing around the room. “This ‘spring cleaning’ is too out of character to come out of nowhere.”

“Can’t a guy want a little more walking room?”

“Not when it involves pretending that nothing’s wrong.”

Raven’s eyes met his. He held contact for mere moments before the façade cracked.

Beast Boy’s false smile slowly dropped. He knew he shouldn’t be hiding from her. Raven was one of his best friends, after all.

“’s not a big deal,” he mumbled, looking away.

“It is if it’s bothering you,” she responded, gently touching his shoulder to get his attention. Beast Boy turned back to her, setting the monkey down.

How would he start?

“It’s kind of complicated.”

Raven had the time for him.

“Then start from the beginning.”

With that, Beast Boy sat back, leaning his cheek on a propped-up knee. Raven lowered herself into a crisscross, fully facing him. He took a few moments to collect his thoughts, memories reflecting clearly in his eyes.

“Back, ah, with the Doom Patrol, I was just a kid when Mento started training me. He saw that my powers could be controlled and used for the greater good. And I wanted to be a hero! I wanted to help others. But I wasn’t used to getting shot at or transforming so much I passed out. It was rough for a while. And I messed up. A lot.

“Mento never let me forget any of the mistakes I made, even long after I learned from them. Sometimes, it took longer than it should have to learn, but I eventually got it. But that wasn’t good enough for him. It was for Rita, but Mento was the one in charge, so there was never an end to it.”

Beast Boy exhaled, stopping for a moment to likely push away memories that were crawling out of unpleasant depths of his subconscious.

“And that’s part of why you left?” Raven prompted.

“That was a big part of it. Just one day decided that I had enough, and I thought I could grow stronger if I became the sidekick of someone who could actually help me build on when I did something right. And when I met you guys, things were finally different, and everyone could rely on me in a fight. That felt good and I thought that maybe I wasn’t a total screw up after all. But today, with the mission I just- I messed up really bad and I knew what I did wrong right as it was happening.”

Oh.

Raven and Starfire had split off from the boys to tend to another emergency and didn’t hear back from them until after their mission was complete. Robin had seemed somewhat frazzled, but otherwise they had been successful as well. She hadn’t heard about any particular difficulties on their end.

Beast Boy continued on, his frustrations spilling out at this point.

“I mean, Robin and Cyborg were able to fix it, but Mumbo almost got away. We had him, but I slipped up and he did a lot more damage before we nabbed him again. That’s the kind of dumb mistake I made when I was just a kid, except back then, people died.” He nearly choked on his last words.

Raven’s thoughtful expression instantly morphed into a mixture between solemnity and shock. She had no idea he carried such a weight.

“Beast Boy . . .”

He let out a humorless laugh, his eyes unfocused and unwilling to meet hers.

“Do you ever just . . . get frustrated that you haven’t changed at all? Sometimes I still feel like the kid that can’t follow an order without screwing something up. I’m trying to get better at my job, but that’s not enough when lives are in danger,” he agonized, reaching up to grip his hair in his fist.

His emotions were beginning to overwhelm him. Beast Boy was so used to holding these demons in that he didn’t know how to handle them when they reared their ugly heads. And he hated himself for dumping his worries on Raven. She didn’t need to be dragged into his problems; he should be able to handle them on his own by now.

However, one fact that Beast Boy forgot was that Raven was a healer. She knew that part of the healing process included recognizing the hurt so one could fully recover.

“Beast Boy, you’re right to feel frustrated over this.” Raven began gently, so as to properly acknowledge his despair. “But you have grown up through the years that I’ve known you.”

“Today might prove you wrong,” he sighed defeatedly.

“One bad day doesn’t always indicate a pattern. Failing to react well under pressure happens to even the most disciplined of people.”

“Does it happen to you?”

Raven blinked. Where did that come from?

“What do you mean?”

“You’re always so in control and know what to do. I just don’t know if I can ever be as level-headed as you are.” Truthfully, though he complained about her supposed standoffishness when they first met, Beast Boy always admired her ability to remain calm. She could be cranky at times, but Raven was the Titan to turn to when you needed sage-like wisdom and a calming presence.

“. . . Not always.”

Beast Boy paused. He met her earnest and somewhat hesitant eyes. Where did that come from?

Raven pressed her lips tightly together, then, ever so slowly, began to speak.

“Sometimes . . . I think that I’m still as much of an isolated shut-in as when the team formed. You guys understand my snark, but I still go too far at times and I can tell the others don’t want to tell me that I hurt their feelings. We all struggle with insecurity, Beast Boy, no matter how well we hide it.”

Beast Boy leaned toward her, resting a hand in the space between them.

“You’ve grown so much though, Raven. I’ve noticed how much more you smile nowadays, and you actually talk to us about what you’re thinking about. I don’t think you would have been caught dead in my room like this when we first met,” he cracked a small smile, realizing just how intimate their situation was.

Raven relaxed, quietly grateful that the Beast Boy she knew was reemerging.

“No, I wouldn’t have.”

Now it was her turn.

“But the same goes for you. You take initiative when it’s called for and frankly, some of your strategies are the reason we make it through rougher battles.”

“Name one time,” Beast Boy held up a finger, still not entirely convinced.

“The initial charge against the Brotherhood. Morphing into a jellyfish to filter Scarecrow’s fear gas. Disabling that bomb as a cockroach so you wouldn’t be detected or incinerated,” Raven listed off confidently.

Beast Boy looked down, pondering her words. His shoulders relaxed and a soft smile slowly crept up onto his cheeks.

“Huh. I guess that was pretty mature of me,” he chuckled.

“You know,” she started, peering her head down to catch his eyes once more. “If you’re so worried about making mistakes, maybe talk to Robin about changing your training routine. Having variety might help your ability to react appropriately to any situation.”

“Yeah. That’d probably be a good place to start.”

“Also,” she began, gesturing to the mess around them. “Growing up doesn’t mean getting rid of your childhood joys. It just means you step up without being asked to.”

“I suppose you’re right. But I’ve been meaning to clean up for a while. Kind of hard to stay focused with so much clutter in your room.”

“Maybe leave it until you get a good night’s sleep,” she suggested.

“Eventually, but first there’s something I want to try.”

“And that would be . . .?”

Beast Boy reached back and grabbed the treasure that had sparked their night of revelations.

“Giving this book a try.” He waved the Calvin and Hobbes compilation before her. “You’ve granted me so much wisdom just now, I must have aged a few decades mentally. That is, if you’re not too tired.”

His hopeful expression was too much to pass up, especially at a time when he had opened up so much to her. It was out of character, but Raven was willing to give it a shot.

“I think I’m up for a little humor.”

Beast Boy mock grabbed his heart.

“Such an anomaly only comes once every other blood moon, so I’ll have to cherish you discovering your sense of humor.”

“The anomaly will pass faster the longer you talk about it.”

“Got it.”

They sat on the floor together, each holding one end of the book. Page by page, Beast Boy laughed outwardly at Calvin’s incessantly precocious dialogue. His eyes lit up as he brushed Raven’s shoulder, giddy to share the joke with her. Raven, in return, chuckled at Hobbes’ playful antics and allowed Beast Boy to see her rare carefree expressions.

What happened next truly made their night. The punchline was perfectly worded and timed for the both of them and they shared a singular moment of genuine laughter. Raven’s only a brief chortle and Beast Boy’s a lengthier guffaw, but the laughter of two friends nonetheless.

Raven could have denied the moment and blamed her increasingly delirious state. But she wasn’t about to deny Beast Boy the rare opportunity to have made her laugh. After all, sharing this moment with him was the best feeling she had all day.

[dumbkiri]

Fate Changes Three

Parts: [1, 2, Here, 4, 5 ]

Summary: [Name] and Barbara’s lives are on the line. Batman has a difficult choice to make and while he abandons the only person that keeps Jason alive in memories, [Name] is content with his decision. This is her chance. 

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female! Reader

Genre: Action, Slight Angst

Word Count: 3.1k //  7 pages

Warnings: Guns, Suicide, Blood, Death

"Because like you, Juliet, Romeo never died."

 His words haunted her like her nightmares. His modified voice still echoing in her head. His Arkham symbol planted in her memories. Everything about him, threw her off her tracks. It was bothersome that she couldn't find out who he was. Then [Name] thought about the star-crossed lovers.

Romeo died in the story. What did the Arkham Knight mean that Romeo never died? Juliet was under the influence of a sleeping potion which gave Romeo the impression that she died. He mourns for her like a true lover and voluntarily drinks poison because he believed she was dead. Juliet not even a moment before wakes up from her sleep and finds Romeo dead. Juliet then stabs herself in the heart. 

......

“Because like you, Juliet-”

Juliet, she was still alive. She was only sleeping. 

“Romeo never died.” 

Romeo was tricked.

“I fear too early, for my mind misgives-”

The Arkham Knight wasn’t going to let her kill herself. 

“Some consequences, yet hanging in the stars-”

If Juliet had woken up earlier, she wouldn’t have allowed Romeo to drink the poison. Because she was alive.

“Shall bitterly begin.”

The roles...they switched. 

......

 "Where's Barbara?" [Name] asked sitting in the middle between two armed guards. Her eyes trained on the Arkham Knight sitting casually in the passenger seat. His fingers drumming to the song playing on the radio. She recognized the singer's voice: Frank Sinatra. The man who sang the famous song in her dreams. 

"Hey," She addressed the Arkham Knight, "I asked you a question." 

Her attitude earned a hit from the guard on her right. He slammed the butt of his gun on her chest. She reacted with a strangled gasp. Her wounds hadn't fully healed. She was surprised she was still alive. 

"Barbara Gordon is in another car. Away from you." The guard on her left gave her an answer.

 She nodded her head and weakly said, "Thanks."

 Her head hung low and she was very exhausted. [Name] hated showing her weakness, but tonight was like no other night. Tonight she was going to experience fear and that scared her to no end. The rest of the car ride, [Name] had slept. The guards, of course, kept a close eye on her. Even the Knight would look over his shoulder to see what she was doing. Every time, he would see [Name] twitch in her sleep. It was either her fingers or her legs that often twitched. Sometimes she would flinch so hard that the guards would point their guns at her only to see that she was still sleeping. 

"Man, Batgirl has some weird habits," The guy on her right said. He set his gun down and looked at his partner.

 The left man replied back, "She flinched so much in only five minutes." 

The Arkham Knight scoffed and turned the radio higher before saying, "She's having a nightmare." The two guards looked at each other and shrugged. The Knight knew more about Batgirl than they did. They weren't going to question his knowledge. They weren't that stupid.

 [Name] heard what the Knight said and cringed. Only one person knew why she flinched in her sleep. Not even Batman, Alfred, Barbara or Tim knew.

 ……

“Jason, do you ever think that we could live outside of Gotham?” [Name] asked sitting in the backyard of Wayne Manor.

 Jason was casually laying next to her with his arms behind his head. The blanket beneath them providing sanction from the damp green grass it was placed on. Jason’s blue eyes traveled from the stars to [Name]’s back then to the stars again. “Not really?” He said with an unsure tone in his voice. The teen didn’t quite understand what she was trying to say.

 [Name] rested her chin on top of her palm and watched as the stars twinkled happily above them. Her [e.color] eyes reflecting the beautiful night sky. She bit her lip and finally got the courage to say what she wanted, “I think that in order for me to be happy, I need to live somewhere else. Gotham reminds me too much of-" She paused and rephrased her sentence, "Gotham isn’t a place for me to be.”

 Jason sat up at her words, “You’re not serious, are you? Gotham is your home." He watched her as she stayed quiet. Jason continued with a nervous stare. His heart racing faster than when she confessed to him. "It’s where Bruce taught us how to fight. Where Alfred comforts us in the time we need it. It’s where you help me come back to Earth.” He was not happy with her at the moment and [Name] knew that.

 “Jason,” She softly said, her eyes no longer on the night sky. Instead, they were staring straight into deep ocean blue eyes. She wanted him to understand why she wanted to move away from Gotham. “I need this. I need time away from Gotham. From crime fighting. Bruce offered to help me move to Metropolis. It’s not too far from here and I’ll still visit you guys. It’s not like-”

“You don’t get it, [Name]. I need you here with me.” Jason said and scooted closer to her. He placed his hands on her arms and brought her closer to him. “You...I like you, a lot. And you telling me that you want to move away from Gotham makes me feel like I did something wrong. Tell me, what did I do?” 

[Name] smiled at him and felt that he was calming down. That he was willing to listen to her reasons. “Jason, you did nothing wrong. If you did, I would tell you. But you,” She removed one arm away from his grasp and used that hand to reach his head. She brushed her fingers through his hair and then traced his jawline, “You will always be my home, Romeo. Don’t you ever forget that.”

He sighed and rested his forehead on her shoulder, “When will you move?”She resumed combing her fingers through his hair. Her eyes went back to the stars, “I move next week.”

Jason picked his head up from her shoulder and pressed his lips on her cheek. He then spoke up, his voice frail and soft, “At least write to me, okay?”This earned a giggle from the [h.color] haired teen. She covered her mouth and gave him an incredulous look. “Write letters? What century are we in?” [Name] laughed and laughed while Jason crossed his arms over his chest.

 He was currently pouting where he sat. “Writing letters is more personal than sending emails or messaging through technology, alright?”

[Name] couldn’t stop her laughing and Jason had about enough with her teasing. He grumbled under his breath and stood up off the ground. He began walking away, but [Name] grabbed his hand gently in hers. He turned back and saw her hair dancing with the light breeze. Her eyes reflecting the moonlight. 

“Of course, I’ll write to you, Jaybird,” She promised. 

Jason smiled and pulled her into his arms.

 They sealed the promise with a sweet kiss.

……

"[Name]."

It was someone familiar calling out to her. She knew that soft voice. That caring voice. 

"[Name], please, wake up." 

She felt someone tap her foot and she flinched in her sleep. Her eyes begged for her to open up and she begrudgingly agreed. [Name] blinked her eyes open slowly and her focus was absolutely trashed. It took her at least a minute to see who was sitting in front of her. "B-barbara?" [Name] asked sitting up in her position which caused a groan to escape her lips.

 "I wouldn't move too much if I were you. You put up quite a fight tonight. Not only that, but you been shot, survived a car crash and earned bruises from those military guys." Barbara let her head rest against the crate behind her. Her arms were also bound behind her back. She didn't look as bad as [Name] did, but it was evident that she endured just as much.

 "Before you ask, the Arkham Knight stuffed us back here. It looks like a large storage room." [Name] nodded her head, "You can see more than I can." She blinked her eyes again and the darkness around her was starting to get lighter. Her eyes were adjusting.

 "Barbara, do you have any idea of who could be the Arkham Knight?" Barbara shook her head, "No." Then she brought her green eyes to the beaten Batgirl in front of her. "Y-you have an idea, don't you?" "I am not sure," [Name] looked down at her legs, "he gives me these vibes. His actions...they remind me of him."

 Barbara squinted her eyes, "What do you mean 'him'?"

 [Name] sucked in a breath. It took her exactly two minutes to spit the sentence out. "They remind me of Jason." 

Barbara shook her head. Denying [Name]'s words of truth. Jason was dead and her friend needed to get over that fact. "He died," Barbara reminded [Name].

 [Name] involuntarily cringed at her words, "I know, just listen-"

 "The Joker killed him. We all saw the tape. We all saw him murdered in cold blood." Barbara was once again, relentless with her words. "He died, [Name]. He died being Robin." 

"I know!" [Name] yelled at her friend fighting back her tears. Why does everyone have to remind her that Jason was dead? "All I'm saying is that his actions were close to Jason's. I was hinting that maybe the Arkham Knight knew Jason. A childhood friend-" Not possible. "Or a classmate," Wrong. "Someone who knew him." Never.

 You know what you're saying is wrong. You know deep inside that- 

"How do we know it can be one of those options?" 

"Because it's someone who has a large target on Batman. Someone who knows Batman himself possibly even his true identity." Barbara finished. 

The door to the storage room opened. "I assume you two know Batman's true identity." Scarecrow popped out of nowhere scaring the girls for a quick second only for that fear to turn into anger. They weren’t going to answer an obvious question. Scarecrow knew for a fact that they knew who was under the mask. He walked closer to them and his feet stopped to stand in between them. Scarecrow looked at Barbara and then to [Name]. His sinister eyes boring into her fear stricken ones.

"Batman is here as we speak," Scarecrow informed them, "It's time for him to choose which Batgirl he wants to save." 

"What do you mean?" [Name] asked the tall man. He gave her a smile; a creepy and sinister one. Then she looked at Barbara, but her green eyes were trained on the floor. The commander's daughter knew what was going to happen, but she was still drawing a blank. "You'll see, Batgirl."

 The Arkham Knight walked in silently and picked up Barbara. He carried her over her shoulder and ordered his men to help [Name] up. They followed his order and lifted her off the floor. She gasped out loud and the Arkham Knight whisked his head in her direction. He watched as she hunched over in pain. Her face contorted and her arms wishing to hold herself together. Her face was decorated with more scratches and bruises. He wondered what her suit was hiding beneath. Broken bones? More bruises, but much more darker, yellow? 

 "Enough with the dramatics, Batgirl," Scarecrow chastised, "the real show has yet to begin." The Arkham Knight followed after his men. Barbara silent as ever and [Name] wincing every time his men lifted her off the floor. She was too tired and weak to fully stand, so they resorted to dragging her body to the cell she was going to be stuck in. Fear gas would soon be in her system screwing up her already screwed up mind.

 ……

[Name] was carelessly thrown into her bulletproof glass cell. Her body roughly colliding with the floor. Her neck aching in pulses that matched her heart rate. She coughed up and spat blood on the floor. In so much pain, she curled up into a ball and cried out from it all. 

"Batgirl." She heard Batman call out to her and she weakly looked up from the floor. "Bat...man," She groaned and pushed herself off the floor only to stumble against the nightstand next to her. Something clinked against the floor and she brought her full attention to it. There mockingly laying in front of her was a loaded pistol. 

She then looked in front of her to see her mentor. "Batman, I tried to stop them. But I ended up crashing into a tank and the car- we could have died on impact. I could have, but the Arkham Knight...he sav-" 

"Save your breath, Batgirl," Scarecrow popped up on the screens behind her. The background dark and the light on him. "Batman, the task is grueling ahead of you. Standing before you is your current Batgirl, the one you held dear to your heart." [Name]'s heart raced. "And in the other cell is your former sidekick, Barbara Gordon." The Scarecrow chuckled. "You have one choice to make tonight. Save your current Batgirl or the crippled one. You have two minutes to decide. Every ten seconds you wait, a light dose of fear toxin will be injected in their system via the collar they wear." 

[Name]'s hand flew to the collar around her neck. She didn't even know when they put this on her. Why couldn't she have felt it earlier? Her eyes were then directed to her right where she saw Barbara sitting down in her wheelchair. "Your time starts now." Scarecrow finished and [Name] ran up to the front of the cell. She placed her hands on the glass and called out to her mentor, "Batman, you have to save Barbara!" She felt a sharp prick at her neck and her vision slowly changed on her. 

"No, no," Barbara yelled out holding her hands to her head. "Leave me alone!" 

Batman looked between the girls. [Name] banged her hands on the glass to get his attention, "Listen to me, this may be the last time I get to speak to you," another dosage of fear toxin entered her system, "I don't blame you for anything. Not even Jason’s death for which you blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault that the Joker got to him before we could.”

She closed her eyes, so she won't see the horrors in front of her anymore. But that didn't stop the voices.

 "You left me alone to die, now look where you ended up. Alone.” Jason taunted.

 "Not true, you aren't him," [Name] responded with heavy breathing. Her lungs working at a fast rate due to her panicking. She took a deep breath in and stumbled away from the cell to see Jason’s dead body lying helplessly on the floor. Batman was no longer the center of her attention because the fear toxin was clouding her vision. 

The Joker’s laugh echoed in her head and she slapped her hands over her ears. But she could still hear his demented cackle; one of pure evil. Then she heard Jason screaming and yelling as Joker tortured him over and over. Her knees buckled and hit the floor with a pop. 

"I c-can't," [Name] cried and looked behind her to see the gun laying on the floor. She crawled over to the weapon and felt the familiar cold kiss her fingers. 

"What will you do, Batman? It seems both of them are willing to kill themselves." Scarecrow watched amused by what was happening. 

Both Batgirls reached for their weapons. Batman wasn't going to let either one of them to pull the trigger. But he had to think fast. With a heavy heart, he gave [Name] one last good look at her. This is not how he wanted to remember her. She was always so bright. So loving. Yet [Name] gave him permission to save Barbara before her. So he worked on opening Barbara’s cell before the redhead could reach the gun on the nightstand.

 ……

[Name] wasn't going to deny that her heart ached when Batman chose Barbara over herself. Who was she kidding? Barbara will always hold a special place in Bruce Wayne's heart while [Name] wasn't even sure he saved a spot for her.

[Name]’s mind drifted to the pistol. Her fingers wrapped around the cold gun and she stared at it helplessly. She could end it all right here. Pull the trigger and let her brains splatter against the wall behind her. She could let her body fall limp into Death's arms and have him take her away to wherever God deemed her soul to rest. But suicide isn't welcomed in Heaven. Taking your life was an insult to God who gave you the ability to live. At least that's what the nuns at the orphanage told her. 

"You can be with me."

 [Name] flinched at how cool and calm Jason's voice was. She knew he was standing right behind her in his Robin costume. She knew the fear toxin was still being applied in her body. Running its course and digging a deeper hole, a place where should would fall in and never come back to the surface.Her fear was coming to life. But she had to look at him again. Just this once. 

Slowly, she turned her body around and her eyes widened. Standing before her was Jason, but he looked better. He was wearing casual clothing which consisted of a red tee and jeans. The outfit she last saw him in. 

"Don't you want to be with me, [Name]?" 

BANG!

 She jumped up at the sound of a gun going off and she went to turn around to see what Batman was doing, but Jason stopped her. 

"You don't want to look over there, it's not pretty." He warned her and placed a hand under her chin to keep her eyes on him.

 [Name] closed her eyes and her hand gripped tighter on the weapon. Batman didn't save Barbara in time and he won't save her either. Because she was going to be with Jason. No one was going to stop her anymore. No Batman. No Arkham Knight. 

"All you have to do is pull the trigger. Then I can hold you in my arms forever." He cooed and removed his hand off her face.

 [Name] opened her eyes and looked at the gun one last time. The metallic black color shining in a different light. The weight of it light as a feather. She cocked it and lifted the barrel toward her. It touched her chin and she smiled.

 This was it.

[vickylavey]

Title: The visions of the Gnawed.

Pairings: gen

Words: 1.5k

Summary: MonProm VtM AU. WARNINGS- blood magic, buried alive; Vicky has dreams she shouldn't be having in the first place.

She was surrounded by an oppressive darkness. Was she a shovelhead, doomed to dig her way out of a shallow grave and become fodder for the Sabbat? Was she captured by hunters and tied with a tarp?

Was there a stake in her chest, only narrowly missing her heart?

She palpated her chest, free of stakes, and reached up above her. Her hands came to a cushy interior of silk.

Was she in a casket?

Vicky felt fear.

Was she found slumbering in her Haven, ruled dead, and buried?

Her hands slammed against the lid. "Help," she squealed, her chest tight, "help. Help! Help me!" Vicky slammed her fists against it. It didn't even rattle. Only muted thumps from her banging. "Somebody, please help me! Get me out of here! Get me out!"

---

Vicky's eyes opened. She bolted from her bed and fell onto the floor, shrieking like her eyes were plucked out. The stainless steel table toppled over with a crash, reverberating off the walls.

Bracing herself on the floor, she sat on her legs and looked around. She was still in her Haven. Was that a dream?

Did Kindred even dream?

Vicky righted the table and looked around. Her skin was covered in a thin film of blood- she was so scared she was sweating.

Did Kindred even fucking dream? Never before did Vicky dream. Whispers, epiphanies, but nothing visual. Nothing like that.

The wheels landed on the floor. Vicky heard something clatter onto the linoleum. She crouched and retrieved something odd. A piece of wood, stripped of bark, with thirteen knots. It was wet with blood.

Vicky whimpered. She immediately checked the door. Locked. The windows still nailed shut. Her mind raced. What the fuck was that? And how did someone break into her Haven?

She paused midstep. The Tremere, and by extension, the Camarilla.

Someone needed to be told. Vicky pocketed the fetish and ran from her Haven. It was still light outside, but twilight made it easier to stick to the shadows, avoiding the vestiges of burning rays.

Vicky holed up behind the bar. She held her legs and rocked.

Was she found? Was the bloodhunt ongoing? Would the Vegas Camarilla stop until they found her? Would she be staked and left to sunrise?

If she had a heart, would it fail because of her fear?

The door opened. Vicky vanished and peered over the counter. It was Amira and Vera. Vicky's Obfuscation was cut short and she raced to them. Vera caught her by her shoulders.

"Vicky, what the fuck?"

"I had the most terrible dream, and I found this in my Haven! Under my bed!"

Vera peered at the wooden fetish Vicky presented. She frowned. "It's nothing I recognize," she explained. "I'll give some Tremere I know a call. I doubt they'll give you anything substantial, given how they hoard their magic, but they might give you why it could've been made, and that could give you a lead." She turned to Amira then. "Accompany her."

Amira nodded. "Of course."

He fetched a towel from behind the bar and wiped off Vicky's skin. "You're covered in blood..." he remarked.

"I-I was so scared, I started sweating."

"I see." Amira hummed. "Let's get you washed up when Vera finishes, then we can check this shit out. Give you some dignity before we see those witches."

Vicky nodded. "Thank you. You're all such good friends."

He shrugged. "This Barony is mostly made of misfits like you and me, thanks to the Baron. He's more like a father to many of us. Jyhad isn't as extreme here because of it."

"I see." Vicky sniffed. She was grateful for that. The Camarilla was so cut-throat, so self-serving. It was like treading rapids there, and all she got out of it was her sire assassinated and existential fear.

Some minutes later, Vera returned. "I have to stay here. But some Tremere is willing to meet us."

"And they're willing to go against the fucking Camarilla?" Amira snorted. "Sounds like a trap."

Vera crossed her arms. "I never said to trust them. But I don't have any better ideas. God knows the Tremere cling to power in the Camarilla for self-preservation. An additional safety net to hide their Thaumaturgy."

"O-okay. I can see them," Vicky said. Who knows. They might be the very ones behind it.

Amira sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Okay. Where are we meeting them?"

"Parthi Park an hour from now. There are three of them. Hope and Joy are Tremere. The third, named Faith, is Lasombra. Don't expect the area to be cleared, however. It is a public park. The Masquerade holds."

They nodded.

When they came to Parthi Park, Amira and Vicky took a seat beside one another. He leaned back and kept an eye out with a cigarette between his lips.

Vicky sniffed. "Do you know these guys?" she asked.

"I know of them, and I've seen Faith with Polly over the years. They're not a part of my coterie, though."

She smiled. "How opportune then."

"Hardly. I'm not interested in politics and coteries and shit. I get why they're needed, but they're a pain. I don't think I'd give a Tremere the time of day anyway. They're creepier than Nagaraja and suck Cammy dick on top of it."

"Point taken."

Amira said, "In your shoes, though, I'd consider it. You're... feeble. All due respect. Feeble and unhinged. Almost to the point of being Gnawed. You need all the help you can get."

Vicky scowled. "I don't trust people Vera and Polly don't. I can't have people I don't trust in my coterie."

"I get that," he replied. "Just know we may not be around forever."

Vicky shook the memory of her dream. Of imagining Vera or Polly or Amira underground and scratching at a coffin.

It gave her goosebumps.

From the shadows emerged a trio of women. Witches. Vicky stood. "Hi... are you Joy, Hope, and Faith?"

"Ironic names for Kindred, no?" said the woman in the center. Height-wise, she was unimpressive, but otherwise gorgeous, with full lips painted black, and even fuller thighs.

Nonetheless, Vicky nodded to them. "Shalom."

Their company smiled at Vicky. "It's rare to find Kindred who cling to their old faith."

"I'm not a very good Jew," she replied.

"No matter," she smiled. "I'm Joy. These are Hope," Joy gestured to her right, where a small woman stood, black hair cut short, "and Faith." To her left was a tall, slender woman with hair white as snow and thick glasses. They nodded to Vicky and Amira.

"I must cut to the chase, however. Time is of the essence."

Vicky pulled the fetish from her pocket. The blood was drying by that time, and she presented it to them.

Joy took hold of it, delicately balancing it between her fingers, tasting the blood. "A wooden artifact covered in vitae, shaved, thirteen knots..." Her head cocked. "Hope, you're more familiar with ritualism. What do you make of it?"

"Easy. It's devoted to the thirteen clans." Hope was passed the fetish. She glanced at the bottom. Her eyebrows raised. "Interesting."

"What is?" Amira asked.

"A crown is carved on the bottom."

"What does that mean?"

Hope said, "It could be used to influence visions, manipulating the blood the right way."

"Then why is there a crown carved on it?" Vicky asked.

"I have a theory," Faith chirped. "There are Gehenna cults, Kindred who seek to cause the Final Nights." She held up the fetish. "This wasn't just meant to influence visions. This connected you to the Antediluvian."

Amira frowned. "The Antediluvians who haven't met Final Death are in torpor.

"Yeah," Vicky said. "And my nightmare... my nightmare was violent. Trying to escape a coffin."

"A silk-lined sarcophagus?" Faith asked.

Vicky's heart thumped. "How did you know that?"

In perfect unison, the mages said, "We know things."

"See things,"

"hear things,"

"feel things." Joy splayed her hand in front of her face. Blood, glowing like embers, made a web between her fingers. "The blood gives us many gifts, Vicky. You need only to learn."

Vicky understood why Amira disliked Tremere. They were creepy.

Amira said, "How do we trust y'all aren't part of the cult? The Camarilla doesn't believe in this shit."

"We are Kindred first, foremost, and lastly," Joy replied. "Our only allegiances are for self-preservation. You know that well, don't you?"

Her chest squeezed as she thought back to her escape from the Camarilla, and her arrival to the Barony. If she hadn't sided with the Barony, would she have been executed?

What a frightening thought.

Vicky bowed her head. "What now? Why me?"

"Your visions are famous. Someone may be reaching out for help. Who, I haven't the slightest, but that's the most rational conclusion." Joy folded her arms. "We're keeping the fetish regardless."

"Take it away." Far away. Vicky didn't want it. All she wanted was to board up her home.

They bid their farewells. Amira guided Vicky back to Vera's club.

And Vicky felt dread for the coming nights.

[aewriting]

Sometimes Wish I'd Never Been Born at All

I posted this on AO3 for Michael Guerin week back in September of 2019 (here's the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20709674 ).  I thought I'd repost it here, though, because it is basically a reworking of the Christmas classic "It's a Wonderful Life."  But with aliens!

Warnings for violence, illness, racism, and homophobia. Something Very Bad happens to Alex in this story, though it is not graphically detailed.

***

Max has been dead for months.

Maria broke things off a week ago.

Isobel looks at him like he’s broken.

Alex… shit.

Michael takes another swig of acetone. Alex has moved the fuck on.

More acetone.  Then some more.  It’s not enough.

He looks at the alien glass in his hand, runs his new, perfect hand along it.  It’s the nicest part of him now, miles better than his heart.

“I wish I’d never come here.  I wish I’d never set foot on this fucking planet…”

***

He wakes up to the sound of knocking at the door of the Airstream.  His head aches.  “Coming!” he calls out.  He must have passed out fully dressed.  He goes to move the paper he uses to cover the windows of the Airstream, only to discover that the windows are bare.  Huh. Moving stiffly, he makes his way to the door and flings it open.

“What is it, Sanders?”

Old Man Sanders just squints up at him.  “How the hell do you know my name, boy?”

Michael scrapes a hand over his face.  “Christ, Sanders, it’s me, Michael.”

“I’ve never seen you before in my life!”

Michael laughs a bit at that.  “I know your eyes are going, but come on…”

Sanders glares at him. “You’re trespassing on private property.”  He sniffs the air.  “And you’re a drunkard, to boot.  Sheriff should be here any minute.”

“You called Valenti on me?” Michael says, incensed.

Sanders gives him a confused look.  “Valenti?  Sheriff Valenti’s been dead for over a decade.  You okay in the head, boy?”

It’s only then that Michael looks around the Airstream.  It’s bare and run-down, like no one lives here, like he just…

Appeared.

A prickling sensation goes up his neck.  “What day is it?”

“September 20, 2019,” Sanders says. 

Huh, okay, that’s right.  He starts to hear sirens. Sanders nods his head, pleased.  “That’ll be Thomas now.”

A tall man exits the first cruiser, while a familiar blonde gets out of the second car.

“Cam!” Michael exclaims.  “I thought you left town, but I’m glad to see you.  Could you tell Sanders here that it’s me?”

She takes off her aviators, stares at him blankly.  “And who are you?”

Shit.  Shit shit shit…

Michael breathes.  Okay, so things definitely aren’t right.  Sanders doesn’t recognize him.  Cam doesn’t know who he is.  Some old white dude – Thomas? – is the Sheriff now.  Valenti has apparently been dead for ten years.  It’s the right date. 

What could have caused something like this?  His mind immediately goes to alien stuff – mind control, body snatching, influencing, weird tech stuff…

Weird tech stuff.

The glass, last night.  His desperate wish.

“I’ve never been born,” Michael murmurs in disbelief.  “I’ve never been born…”

Cam is looking at him, concerned.  “Let’s get you down to the station.”

***

He’s in his familiar cell.  He’s had time to think, and he’s wondering if maybe this version of things isn’t a good thing, a better thing for everyone involved. 

 “Is Max here?” he tries.  Max is dead in his reality, languishing in a pod.  Maybe without Michael around, things hadn’t gotten so fucked up.

Jenna eyes him.  “Max?  Don’t know a Max.”

Michael wants to smirk at her, say some smartass comment. He refrains, just nods his head.  “Never mind.”

Sheriff Thomas strolls in, makes a big show of unlocking the cell. “Well, Mr. Guerin, it appears you’re free to go.  Sanders has decided not to press any charges.  Says he just wants ‘that poor boy to get some help.’ End quote.”  Thomas’s eyes narrow.  “Can’t say I would have been so kind.”

Yeah, so Thomas is an ass.

“Thanks,” Michael says curtly.

Thomas leans in close to him.  “Hey Guerin?”

“Yeah?”

“I suggest you leave my town. We don’t take kindly to drifters here.”

***

Michael goes straight to the Pony.  It’s not a long walk. He doesn’t have a watch, or a phone, but he imagines it’s open already.  From what he’s seen so far, he knows that something has happened, but he has yet to determine if that something is bad.

Because when he thinks about it, wouldn’t Max and Iz have been better off without having to worry about his sorry ass all their lives? Maria wouldn’t be pissed and hurt. His mom, oh god, she could be alive, maybe, and Alex? Fuck, maybe Alex never joined the Air Force, never went to war, never lost his leg…

He feels half sick and half hopeful when he sits down at the bar and sees Maria’s stunning face.

Christ, she’s beautiful.  He’s always thought so.  He wishes he could have held it together with her.  There’s a temptation as he looks at her here to just pretend – to flirt, see her respond, do their familiar dance.  Just the way her eyes are appraising him now, looking him up and down, he knows he could do it.  It would be easy.

“Hey,” he says, giving her a slow smile.

She tilts her head to the side with a little smile.  “Hey yourself.  What can I get you?”

“I’ll take a whiskey.”  She nods.  “And if you don’t mind, a phone call or two?  I seem to have lost my phone.”  Her smile falters just a little.  “Both local numbers,” he adds quickly.  You can watch me dial if you want.”

The smile’s back.  “Sure,” she says, and directs him to a landline mounted near the bar.  He dials Max, then Isobel.  Strangers answer.

Is it possible that, when he made the wish, Max and Iz never crashed here either? 

He sits down at the bar thoughtfully.  Would… would that be bad?  Without Isobel, Noah would have never been freed, Rosa would be alive.  Well, alive the right way…

“Penny for your thoughts?” Maria says lightly, as she cuts up lemons. The sharp scent brings Michael back to the present.

“Listen, do you know a guy named Max?  A woman named Isobel?”

Maria lays down the knife. “Hmm…”

“Friends of mine from around here.  My age?”

“Can’t say I do, sorry.”

Michael takes another slow sip of whiskey.  “Okay… okay.  Um, how about a woman named Liz?”

“Liz…” Maria says the name slowly. 

“Yeah, Liz,” Michael says.  “Liz Ortecho?”

“Oh my god,” Maria mutters, half to herself.  She gives a little shake of her head. 

“What?” Michael asks, alarmed.

“What did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t.”  Michael sticks out a hand. “It’s Michael, Michael Guerin.” Maria looks at the offered hand for a long moment before reaching out and shaking it.

“Okay, Michael…” She gives him an odd look.  “Liz hasn’t lived here since we were, like, 14.  I… I have no idea where she is now.”

“What… what happened?”

Maria’s once-open face is now wary.  She glances around quickly.

“Maria, please,” he says.

She looks startled, backs up.  “I never told you my name.”

Michael drops his head.  Shit. It’s still early, and there are only two other people at the bar. “Look,” he says, voice low.  “I’m sorry to lay this on you, DeLuca, but something weird has happened to me, and I need your help to figure it out.”

Her expression gets even more closed off, and she pulls back.  “If you’re about to say something gross, or, like, sexual, then you can just leave right now.”

Michael huffs a little breath, “No, no, it’s nothing like that.” He takes a deep breath and decides to just be direct.  Be direct, ha… it’s what he should have done with her in his reality.

 “You see, I woke up this morning, and I wasn’t where I should be.”  She’s staring at him, confused.  “Like, it wasn’t my reality.  I… I made a wish last night. In my reality.  That I’d never been born.”  She bites her lip.  “I’m, I’m not suicidal or anything, but… but I’ve just been through a lot of shit, and in my reality we were friends… um, more than friends, actually…” She’s backing away from him. “But not anymore, because I fucked things up, like, well before we even started dating, and…” He sees her reaching under the bar toward where she keeps the pepper spray.  “Shit, Maria, please don’t get me with the spray.  I know I sound insane, but I think my wish came true, and that now I’m in a reality where I was never, um, here.  And I just need some answers so I can see if things are actually better here.”  Her hands are still under the bar.  “And if they are, well, you’ll never see me again.  I won’t, like, linger here and just mess up everyone’s lives again, okay?” He sounds absolutely batshit, and he knows it.  “I… I really did know you well, in my reality.  I can prove it, if you want.”

“What? How?”

Michael looks at her.  “You have three little birth marks, on your left…” he gestures toward her left breast.  She gapes at him. “Yeah.  Your necklace is from your mom.  It’s been in your family for years.” Maria’s hands clutch at her necklace, and at least she’s not gripping the pepper spray any more. “Should I keep going?”

Maria’s brow is furrowed.  “No, no,” she says quickly.  Her face is scrunched up, and she’s staring at him.  “Suppose I went out on an enormous limb and decided to believe you.”  She crosses her arms.  “What would you want to know?”

“I guess first, I’d want to know, um, are you happy here?”

She’s staring at him. “What?  Am I happy?”

“Yeah, you know…” His shoulders slump a little. “I… I think I just wished myself away, and I want to know that it was worth it.  That things really are better without me. So far, I just don’t have enough evidence either way.”  There’s still confusion on her face, but a hint of pity, too.  Michael hates it. “Where I’m from, you owned the Pony. Your mom, she was sick, though. I know things were tough for you.”

Maria’s mouth twists a bit.  “It… it sounds like things are pretty similar here, honestly.”

Michael nods a bit, looks at her sadly.  “I’m sorry about Mimi.”

Maria ducks her head.  Sniffs.  “Ask me something else. Please,” she says quietly.

Michael clears his throat. “Okay. Um, back to Liz, then.  What happened to her?”

Maria pulls up a stool on her side of the bar, sits down, and looks at Michael.  “I don’t know why I’m talking to you about this shit.  I mean, you sound insane, but, just the fact that you know her name?”  She shakes her head.  “It was right after Thomas became the Sheriff.” Her eyes narrow.  “He’s a racist asshole. It was right after Jim Valenti died – he was the Sheriff before Thomas.  His death was real sudden – “

“Cancer?” Michael interrupts, knowing what he’s going to hear and fearing it all the same.

“Yes,” Maria says quietly. 

“Super fast acting?”

“Yes, yes,” Maria says.  “Your, um, reality too?”

Michael nods. “Happened later, though, just a few years ago.” His mind is going.  The alien got him here, too.  So there was definitely still a crash, definitely still aliens, right?  But he wasn’t among them.  Were Max and Iz?  And Jesse still killed Jim, but even earlier, why?

“Huh.”  Maria gives him a considering look, then continues. “Anyway, there was a special election.  Jim’s wife ran, but Thomas opposed her on this ridiculous anti-immigrant platform, and as soon as he won he just started cracking down. Liz’s dad – “

“Arturo, yeah. Sweetest man.”

“Yeah.”  Maria shakes her head.  “Thomas decided to make an example of him, turned him into ICE and got him deported.”

“Oh my god.”

“Liz and Rosa, they were still in school, obviously.  My mom and I, we begged them to stay with us, but they wouldn’t leave Arturo alone. They went back to Mexico with him, and that was the last I heard from Liz.”  Maria looks down at the bar.  “I still google her sometimes, you know?  Nothing ever comes up, nothing that’s definitely her, you know? She was so smart, so kind. It’s still hard, not knowing what happened to her, you know?”

“I’m sorry for bringing it back up,” Michael says.  It feels odd to him that there could be such a large deviation in this reality.  Like, what part could he have possibly played?

On the other hand, if Rosa had moved to Mexico at 15, then she hadn’t been murdered by an alien.

“In your reality,” Maria says tentatively, “what happened to Liz?”

Michael considers the question.  “Well… Arturo was never deported. He was still running the Crashdown. Liz, she travelled around right after we graduated, then became a biomedical engineer.  She was up in Colorado for a while, then came back to Roswell.”  He leaves out everything about Rosa.  “Um, recently, things have been… tougher.  Her boyfriend recently passed away.”  It’s still hard for him to say that Max is dead.  “You and her are still best friends, though.”

Maria smiles a little.  “Liz was always so smart.” Michael nods his agreement. “Back in school, you know, it was always me, her, and Alex, the three amigos.  God, we did everything together.”

Michael wills himself to sound casual.  “How, um, how is Alex?”

Maria stills. “Um, Michael?” she asks cautiously. 

Michael swallows thickly. “Yeah?”

“Your Alex…” Her eyes search his face, looking for something. “Was…” Michael doesn’t like her hesitation.  “Um, was he attacked?”

Michael’s eyes close of their own accord.  “Fuck.” When he made that goddamned wish, the point was for things to be better. “Yeah… damn.  He joined up here, too?”

“Joined up?”

“Yeah, the Air Force?”  She’s looking at him, disbelieving. “He was attacked? Iraq? Lost a leg?”

“No, oh god,” Maria’s shaking her head. “No. Oh god,” she repeats.  “Michael, no, the military?”  Her head’s still shaking.  “No, Alex would have never…  No.” Her hand is at her mouth now.  “His leg?” She looks pained.  “Why would your Alex have ever joined the military?  No… maybe he was different, in your reality.  Here, he… he loved music, and riding his skateboard…”

Michael is cold all over.  “Loved?” Past tense.  She’s using past tense.

Maria’s biting her lip, hard.  “Senior year, right before graduation, there was a break-in at Alex’s place. His family’s toolshed, actually.”

Oh god.

“Whoever did it stole a bunch of stuff and they… they…” Her eyes are welling up, now.  “I’m sorry. It was so, so bad, Michael.” She closes her eyes, wipes at her nose.  “It’s just…  They never caught who did it, but… but Alex was there, and they just, just…”

Michael’s voice is cold.  “What, Maria?  What did they do to him?”

“They beat him.  With a hammer.”

***

Maria closes the bar, after that.  Sends the other two people home, locks up, turns the sign, and pours big shots for she and Michael.

Maria’s nearly done with hers. “He’s in the same care home as my mom,” she says, not even looking at Michael. “He’ll… he’ll never be able to be on his own, with the traumatic brain injury, you know?”

Michael’s all cried out, and yet…

Maria just loops her arm around him as he shakes against her.  “I see him there, when I visit Mom.  I go see him, too.  He… he’s peaceful, I guess.  Like, I don’t think he’s in pain, but…”  She’s quiet.  “It’s hard, it’s just really fucking hard.”

“It was his dad,” Michael says, finally.  “You know it was his fucking dad, right?”

Maria’s mouth is set in a tight little line.  “Jesse claimed he saw a guy leaving the scene.  Latino.  Sheriff Thomas latched onto that, of course, made life that much more hellish for everyone.”  She sniffs.  “Jesse was the one that helped get him elected over Mrs. Valenti. There was no way Thomas was going to investigate him for the attack on Alex.”

“Was anyone else hurt?”

“No.”

“That you know of,” Michael says, bitterly.  Maria looks at him quizzically.  “I love Alex,” Michael says.  It feels simpler to say it here, to this Maria.  Her eyes still go wide with surprise. “I… I was with him, in his shed, when his dad found us together. Senior year, just like here.  His dad, he came after us with a hammer.  Broke my hand.”  Michael sees her looking, shakes his head.  “My hand, it… it’s better now, and that’s a long story.  But within weeks of that, Alex enlisted.” Michael looks away.  “I don’t know what happened here.  Maybe he was with somebody different, maybe not.  Maybe he was just, like, by himself, looking at porn or listening to music, or like, doing a thousand other things his dad didn’t like.”  Michael closes his eyes. “Or maybe that day his dad would have been out for blood, no matter what he walked in on. It’s not like he would’ve even needed a reason. He’s a fucking monster.”

“Poor Alex,” Maria whispers.

“Yeah,” Michael murmurs.

***

“So… we dated?  And you love Alex?”

“I’m bi,” Michael shrugs.

“Okay… but, um, that’s not what I was getting at. Are you with him, where you’re from?”

Michael shakes his head. 

“Why not?”

Michael gives a small, harsh laugh.  “Oh, I’ve hurt him DeLuca, hurt him bad.  You know how you were best friends with your Alex? Ditto for my reality, too.”

“Oh… oh.”

“Yeah.”

***

They’re well on their way to drunk when Maria stills, narrows her eyes at Michael.  “Those first two people you came in here asking about, what were their names again?” 

“Max and Isobel.”

“Last names?”

Michael stretches his neck.  “Same one for both of them.  Evans.  They’re twins.  Our age.”

Maria looks thoughtful. “Twins… okay… yeah. She was blonde, he had dark hair?”

Oh no, there was the past tense again.  “That… that’s right.”

“They went to middle school with me.  Before, when you asked, I was trying to think of, like, customers or something.  But no, I remember them now.  They moved away in the middle of 8th grade, I think.” She’s frowning a bit.  “Yes, it was definitely 8th grade, same year Liz left, but they left earlier in the year.  We didn’t have a big class to begin with, so it was weird that three people left so close together.”

Michael relaxes a little, but not completely. “Do you know where they went?”

“No…”  Maria says.  “It was all really sudden. One day they were there, and the next day they just… weren’t.” She cocks her head to the side.  “I mean, they just brought in cupcakes for their birthday, and then the next week they were gone.  I wasn’t close with them, but I remember even the teachers seemed surprised.”

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

“Their, their birthday?” Michael asks shakily. “8th grade?  And then they just fucking disappeared?”

The desert campout.  The drifter.  Without Michael there to help fight him off, to help dig the grave, something must have happened, they must have been hurt… or discovered, somehow.

And disappeared. 

That was 15 years ago.

His mind begins racing.  15 years!  Fuck, if Project Shepherd got them, that could mean 15 years of experimentation, torture, of god knows what. Are they in Caulfield?  Another site?  Dead?

Oh, fuck, and now it makes sense, why Jim Valenti was killed earlier, in this reality.  Max and Iz were just kids – he must have pushed back against Jesse, pissed him off, and Jesse took him out.

Michael’s hyperventilating now, and his heart is beating so fast in his chest that it’s all he can feel, all he can hear. 

“Michael?  Michael!” Maria is screaming.

“I’m sorry,” Michael sobs, to the world, to the universe. “I shouldn’t have made the wish.  It’s so much worse now.  I… I’ve been so focused on what I didn’t have that I didn’t see what’s still there, and I’m sorry,” he cries.  “I’m so sorry!” His body’s shaking.  “Please, goddammit, please! I need to go back!  I need – “

The bar phone starts ringing.  Maria’s cell starts ringing. 

She jumps, reaches for the cell first.  “Yes?” she says, voice trembling.  “Oh… okay.” She freezes.  “Holy fuck.”  She puts her hand over the phone.  “Guerin, Guerin… it’s the care home, it’s my mother. She says she needs to talk to me, has a message for you.”

The hair on Michael’s forearms stand on end.  He watches as Maria puts the phone on speaker. 

“Strange, isn’t it?  Each man’s life touches so many other lives.  When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?” Mimi’s voice sounds oddly calm.

“Mom?”  Maria says.  “Mom? Why did you ask for Guerin?”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Mimi begins.  “Each man’s life touches so many other lives.” It’s the same damn thing all over again.  “When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Michael hisses.

“I don’t know,” Maria hisses back.

“Strange, isn’t it…”

“Fuck, Guerin,” Maria finally says.  “She’s doing the movie thing again.  She’s quoting ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’”

“How do you know?”

“We used to watch it every Christmas. And I just googled it.”

“Right, right…

“Have you ever seen it before?” Maria asks frantically.

“No.”

“It’s… it’s, god, it’s like the same thing you told me.  The main guy, he gets shown what his life would be like if he’d never been born.”

“You see, George, you’ve really had a wonderful life.”

“Fuck… um, okay.  Well, does he get back?  I mean, he must, it would be a bad fucking movie if he didn’t, right?”

Maria runs her hands through her hair. “Yeah, yeah.  He… he realizes that what he had all along was good.  That his life, it matters.”

“Don’t you see what a mistake it would be to just throw it away?  Don’t you see?  Don’t you see? Don’t you see?”

“I’ll be better,” Michael pleads.  “I’ll be so much better. I… I’ll stop with the acetone.  I’ll… I’ll work on me, I really will.  I see now that, that just being there for everyone, it matters.  I want to be better. Not just for Alex, or Max, or Iz, or Maria, but for me. I won’t… I won’t throw it away.  Just please let me go back.”

“Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.”

Michael looks around wildly.

“Every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings. Bell rings.  Bells rings.  Bell rings.”

Michael grabs Maria’s hand, squeezes it hard.

“Thank you,” he says.

He focuses on the old red fire alarm bell in the corner of the bar, uses his powers, and lets it ring.

***

There’s a ringing.

Michael shoots straight up in bed.

His Airstream bed.

Oh thank god.

He scrambles for the phone.  “Hello?  Hello?”

“Michael?” comes Isobel’s voice.  “I just… I just felt you.  Are you okay?”

Michael looks around, exhales.  “I am now, Izzy.  I am now.”

[gastricpierrot]

Title: Heartbeat

Series: Promare

Pairing: GaloLio

Rating: T

Summary:

Lio turns himself in after the final battle, the start of a new life he must get used to.

This is a story of how Lio Fotia navigates through the days that follow, learns that support comes in more forms than he’s ever familiar with, and deals with his alarmingly developing feelings for Galo Thymos.

Also on AO3

[Prologue][Chapter 1][Chapter 2][Chapter 3][Chapter 4][Chapter 5]

[Chapter 6]

Lio’s new roommates are pretty normal upon a first impression.

Gueira and Meis are assigned to different rooms as well; perhaps it is done on purpose to encourage them to mingle around with others. At any rate, Lio’s not too bothered. As long as he’s staying with people who know how to respect boundaries and keep their mess to themselves, he’s got no complaints.

The enrollment day of fire training isn’t too eventful. They're made to sit through hours of briefings once they report in and leave their belongings in their rooms, they’re given tours across the facility. It doesn’t take long for the excited faces around Lio to slowly dim as boredom and exhaustion set in. Lio finds himself stifling some yawns of his own and suppressing a growing tinge of annoyance. The main instructor in charge of their orientation is trying too hard, speaking too loud, and being too obnoxious. There really isn’t a need to project such a forced image of toughness just to convince them that their regimen would be grueling; Lio’s sure everyone who’s signed up and passed the physical screenings are fully aware of what they’re getting themselves into.

He diligently sits through the entire program nonetheless, even making sure to take notes when necessary. Their daily schedule begins at six in the morning and ends at five in the evening. Classes are interspersed between physical training, lessons consisting of the basics and the theoretical sides of firefighting and rescue work. Trainees are allowed to eventually choose from a handful of electives as well, mainly on mission strategy, Gear piloting, and equipment maintenance. Their eligibility to choose between streams are dependent on their scores for each screening test segment.

Lio didn’t struggle too much on the written exams—those lessons during his detention did end up helping him—but he must admit to have ran into some troubles during the physical ones. He’s a bit stiffer compared to a few years back, his reaction time seems to be slightly slower than he remembers. His muscle strength and endurance seem to have improved from all the time spent doing community service, though, but Lio personally isn’t happy with how he can’t seem to pull off more explosive movements like he used to easily.  

It frustrates him, not being able to move the way he did when he’s just a little younger. It makes him wonder just how much had he depended on the Promare, and how much of his abilities then had been his own prowess.

He forces himself not to think too much about it. All he has to do is train harder if he’s that unsatisfied with his physical capabilities. He no longer has the luxury of moping around.

Lio’s enrolled into the FDPP’s academy under special circumstances, with the help of Galo and his team captain vouching for him. His expenses are covered through a grant—a scholarship of sorts. Everything he needs while training is supplied to him free of charge as long as he meets the performance standards expected of him. He's to take up extra lessons to earn his driver’s license on Sundays, the only full free day given to trainees. Lio knows he wouldn’t have the time and energy to think of unnecessary matters.

His day ends with a simple meal with his brothers at the dorm cafeteria. Gueira and Meis offer to keep him company for just a while longer, but Lio’s had enough social interaction for the day. He itches for a shower, eager to finally catch his breath and settle down to the music of a rhythm game.

Until he remembers he’s not with his usual source of music. And he still doesn’t own a phone yet.

Lio spends his entire time in the shower stall wondering how he should pass the night.

When he returns to his room later, the atmosphere there is...odd, to say the least. All three of his roommates are there, seemingly have been talking fervently among themselves when Lio enters. They stare at him intently, and he stares back, raising an eyebrow in question.

Two of them then turn away to exchange gazes among themselves, and they leave the room without another word. Lio doesn’t pay mind to any of it, stepping aside to make way. They're not the first ones who gradually recognized who he is and stared. Lio’s already ignored a dozen frowns directed at him from the older trainees and even some of the instructors. People are going to judge his decision based on his past as a Burnish, it can’t be helped. What's important that he himself maintains a clear grasp of his own goals and motivations.

“You’re the Burnish leader, Lio Fotia.”

Lio regards his remaining roommate, a boy several years younger than himself. What he senses from him isn’t the animosity he’s used to dealing with whenever someone remembers who he used to be, but rather a buzz of...excitement? Lio can no longer see where this conversation would go.

“I was,” he answers evenly, confusion growing when the boy looks at him even more starry-eyed.

“I knew it!! I thought you looked familiar when I saw you this morning!” his roommate hypes, and at this point Lio’s thought process has completely crashed. The boy then extends his hand towards him, face red. “I really!! Admire you!!”

Now this is really not within expectations.

“I’m?? Honored??” Lio hesitantly shakes, half wondering if this kid has somehow jumbled up his figures of admiration. “But can I ask, whatever for?”

His roommate retracts his hand and cradles it close, looking like he’s decided he’s never going to wash it ever again. “Um?? I just think you’re really cool!!! Fighting for your people like that!!” He then seems to abruptly notice his own intensity and grows embarrassed, averting his gaze and rubbing his nose with the joint of his finger.

“Sorry, I was still kinda young when I read about you on the news so maybe I’m still influenced by my past naivety,” he says, sullen before he perks up again. “But I still think you’re amazing, though!! Especially when you turned yourself in, my respect for you really skyrocketed when that happened!”

“It’s honestly nothing to be admired for,” Lio protests weakly, also getting sheepish as the conversation progresses. He's truly not used to receiving such genuine sentiments from strangers, much less from someone who wasn’t once Burnish themselves. “It was just something I thought I had to do.”

“It’s because you were willing to take responsibility that I’m so impressed!” His roommate insists. “You owned up even though the things you’ve done have been largely circumstantial. And that’s right after you saved the world! That must’ve taken a lot of pride and courage.”

“It really wasn’t—” Lio begins but is immediately cut off with a louder “It is!!! Incredible in my eyes!! Please at the very least accept my appreciation!!”

And what else can he do other than try not to get even more flustered and mutter a thank you? He really is too helpless in the face of people who aggressively throw praises at him like this.

“And another thing!!” The boy continues, and holy heck this kid is even more of a hurricane than Galo, Lio couldn’t help but think as he only blinks and lets himself be swept away by the flow. “How close are you to Galo Thymos??”

This, though, Lio’s expected to hear at least once while he’s here. Galo’s the super rookie of his team when he first started, the hero of Promepolis within a mere few years of being in service. With the sheer amount of merchandise Lio has stumbled upon while he wandered the streets and peeked into shops, he doesn’t doubt there’s at least one person in fire training who looks up to him. He's basically the local celebrity!

“We’re friends,” Lio answers, not one to reveal more unnecessary information that may cause troublesome misunderstandings. He figures if he mentions about being housemates with Galo for a bit the poor guy would lose his mind.

Sure enough, just knowing that they’re still in contact with each other almost sends his roommate into a fit. He makes an odd noise at the back of his throat, face growing redder with excitement.

“What kind!! Of a person is he???”

And for a moment, Lio’s stumped. It’s not a question he can answer as offhandedly as before. Galo...isn’t someone who could be summarized within a handful of words. Lio is certain that he’s yet to see many more sides of him; parts of him he may like, parts of him he may not. There’s still so much more to know, so much more to learn about.

“He’s as you see him on TV.” Lio makes his way to the bottom bunk he’d called dips on, taking a seat at the edge of his mattress. “Loud, obnoxious. Confident.”

He doesn’t notice how his tone softens as he goes on.

“He’s dumb, but not stupid. He's got an annoying habit of butting into people’s business, always trying to help even when it’s got nothing to do with him.”

He’s selfless, ambitious. He’s a nerd for his interests. He cooks well and keeps his home surprisingly tidy. He eats too much pizza for his own good. He’s too reckless for his own good.

“You seem really fond of him,” Lio’s told in the end. His roommate seems bemused, like he realized he’s accidentally stumbled upon something a bit too private. Lio ponders over his words for a moment. Well, yeah. He is fond of him. Otherwise he wouldn’t spend quite so much time with him, now would he?

“He’s been really good to me,” Lio says, hugging his elbows. “I hope to make it all up to him one day.”

“I’m sure you will!” His roommate assures, and he only smiles slightly in response.

“I’ll do my best.”

They engage in a little more small talk before Lio excuses himself, climbing on fully onto his bed and pulling the curtains shut. He lies on his side, pillow in his arms. Breathe in deeply, then out. Over and over.

He didn’t think he still remembers how to feel homesick.

xXx

The hardest part about fire training is arguably having to wake up at five in the morning to compete for the washrooms and shove breakfast down his throat within an hour.

Apart from that, though? Lio would say he’s doing pretty good. Physical training is tough, but he doesn’t think it’d kill him. He's used to physically demanding construction work, being almost constantly at it for five years. His current regimen might make use of completely different sets of muscles, but Lio’s long learnt to pace himself well and to avoid thinking of doing things like it’s a competition.

Most trainees seem to have been athletes as far as he can tell, all having the physiques one would expect to need for fire training. This also means that the younger ones in particular, are keen on showing off to one another throughout the first few days. Rivalries are declared and coarse encouragements are exchanged, and Lio can’t help marveling at how carefree youths could be, to treat job training like it’s some sort of social activity. They'll be stuck together for the next three months or so; he supposes it probably is worth building rapport among each other for the long term.

Speaking of rapport, Lio discovers the reason why his two other roommates left the room after a single look at him the night before. It turns out that they were trying to decide if Lio really is the Mad Burnish Lio, and upon finding out that he is and that the remaining guy is a huge fan, they just didn’t bother staying behind to watch him fanboy. It’s truly something Lio could never have imagined, but it’s nice to know that not every non-Burnish who recognizes him hates his guts. As insignificant as it is, it makes his chest feel just a little lighter.

Lio’s first week passes in a flurry of activities, each so new and energy-consuming that he could hardly stay upright at the end of each day. It’s almost impossible to muster enough focus to go over the textbook materials they’ll be quizzed on when he is uncomfortably aware of every muscle on his body and they are all aching. Lio has to admit that he does grow a little discouraged especially when the nightly headaches begin—until he remembers that even Galo has managed to pass the same program.

Now he definitely can’t lose. Even if it means developing a coffee addiction along with Meis and Gueira.

Sunday eventually rolls around, and Lio finishes his first driving lesson without a hitch. It’s just an online course about road rules and other such theoretical information regarding driving, held within the training facility’s computer lab over three hours. Lio’s supposed to revise the course contents over the week and pass the exam next Sunday if he wants to progress to the hands-on part of the lessons. He's not too worried about either; traffic rules seem straightforward enough to remember and he’s familiar with riding a motorcycle. He might be a little rusty after having not used his beloved Detroit for so long, but he’s confident he won’t fail. Mostly.

At any rate, that’s for future him to worry about. Present him exits the room with a slight, subconscious bounce in his steps, glad that his week is finally over. His heartbeat quickens just a little from anticipation as he heads toward the gates.

He hears the ruckus before he sees it. Galo’s standing to one side of the facility entrance, and he’s currently surrounded by a small group of excited firefighter trainees asking for autographs and training tips. He glances up just as Lio approaches, and his grin widens the moment he spots him.

“Sorry, you guys—I'll have to be going now!” he announces with an apologetic laugh. The trainees around him are fortunately understanding enough to instantly give him space, though they do give Lio strange looks when they realize he’s the one Galo’s been waiting for. The only one who speaks up is Lio’s roommate who also happens to be there, cheerfully telling him to have a great time and to be safe while he’s outside.

“Lio, you’ve made a friend!” Galo observes excitedly once they walk a bit further off to look for a place to eat. Lio wonders if it really is something that warrants that much disbelief in his voice.

“He’s my roommate,” he says, the corners of his lips curling upwards, nonetheless. “Kid’s pretty nice.”

“Look at you already going around getting along with people!!” Galo swings an arm across Lio’s shoulders in his enthusiasm. “You need to tell me everything that’s been going on while you were gone!!”

Lio’s now used to this sort of contact with him, their close proximity a comfort he realizes he misses just lately. He lets himself indulge in the moment for bit before protesting halfheartedly. “Galo, it’s hard to walk like this.”

“Right, right.” Galo withdraws his arm, and Lio bites back a wince when cold air immediately fills his absence. “Sorry, it just feels like I haven’t seen you in a while?”

“It’s only been a week,” Lio reminds him, though he can’t say he doesn’t understand. It’s only been a week, yet the sleepy mornings and quiet nights and soft “welcome home”s and “I’m home”s already feel so far gone. It feels like Lio hasn’t heard the jingle of Galo’s mobile game in forever, hasn’t humored Galo’s unpredictable energy spikes in a long while. His days have never felt quite complete ever since he left the apartment.

His days have never felt quite complete without Galo in them.

They keep up their idle chatter all the way until they find an eatery they both fancy. Lio waits until they’re seated and have made their orders before he continues sharing about the shenanigans he’s witnessed during fire training, the friendly rivalries going all around, the one time Gueira ingested so much coffee to study for a surprise quiz that he was out of it for the next day and a half. Galo’s a great listener as always, knowing well where and how to react, never shy about sharing his own anecdotes of mischief he’s seen and participated in back when he was training himself. It’s been quite a number of years since Galo attended the academy, yet so many things seem to remain unchanged. The system, the course contents, the facilities—and the trainee behaviors most of all.

Lio finds it all strangely fascinating.

“But all that aside,” Galo takes a sip of his melon soda, “I think you really are amazing, Lio.”

Lio doesn’t think he’ll ever be used to this compliment coming from Galo in particular. “What’s with that again, all of the sudden?”

“No, it’s just that it’s been on my mind for a while and—” Galo fiddles with his fingers, pausing a split second to gather his thoughts— “You’re already doing so well even though you looked so lost just a little more than a month ago! I’m just really glad that you seem to have found a goal again.”

“And who do you think helped me the most to get where I am now?” Lio places his elbow on the table and rests his chin against his palm, a lopsided smile across his lips as he gazes at Galo. “You’ll always be the most amazing one in my eyes, Galo. People look up to you, people strive to be like you. You stay true to yourself no matter what you face.”

And I’ve always thought that someone like me will never be worthy of staying by your side.

Galo frowns the moment he catches the words Lio muttered last, ready to argue when Lio speaks first.

“But I don’t want to give up,” he declares, adjusting his posture to sit a little straighter, a little prouder. “I’ll catch up to you soon enough.”

And at that, Galo grins, eyes bright. “I’ll be looking forward to that, then!”

Then as his elation fades, he seems to suddenly recall something. There’s a sly lilt to his voice when he speaks again. “Though, aren’t you being the romantic one this time, Lio?”

Lio gets the reference soon enough, and tilts his head in feigned innocence. “Why? Did it sound like a romantic confession?”

“Well, yeaaah.” Galo crosses his arms and squints, familiar enough with Lio by now to recognize certain signs indicating his verbal traps. “Kinda.”

Lio, on the other hand, isn’t nearly as bothered. “Good. I suppose it is one.”

...

“Huh?”

Lio remains calm, mostly because his brain hasn’t exactly caught up to his mouth just yet in the heat of the moment. He watches Galo’s reaction in fond amusement, heart beating just a tad faster as the words tumble out on their own, unrestrained as though freed by the realization that has finally dawned him.

“I’m in love with you, Galo.”

[etastra]

wanted dynamics !

under the cut are some dynamics i’d like for each of the 13 ! some are romantic, some antagonistic, some platonic, some a combo, some can turn platonic/romantic, etc.

jiwon

someone that is his go to for destressing - and no, not through sex, but through massages & a regular self-care day/night. jiwon often ignores his cosmicness til it feels like his skin is fit to burst, and he always remembers his humanity through something grounding like that.

first love !! jiwon’s first love was in middle school, a year or so after he reached awareness, and they were the first person who he told All about the stars and about his super cool memories/powers. it’s childish and sweet and innocent, and it could be the same, could be completely new, could be nothing more than fond childhood memories

follower ? brother ? neither ? give jiwon someone who actually knows what he is. not who but what, as in someone who still worships the 13 like the old gods they are, or who grew up hearing stories about the 13. give jiwon someone who Knows, and someone he can be himself around, someone he can ask for help in finding his kin

youngsoo

artist rivals !! youngsoo is the epitome of snobby art student, who can quite proudly boast his work pieces have been displayed in local exhibitions and scrutinized/praised by critics. give him someone to challenge him artistically, someone he appreciates because of the challenge, someone he can’t help but respect as a result

if not artist rivals, give youngsoo a critic ! someone so harsh and unforgiving that youngsoo is determined to prove them wrong, to show that his artwork is more than the elementary vivid array of colors it’s always called, that he is more than the harsh words thrown at him.

junseo

good/bad influence ! junseo is an alcoholic, which means this could go either way - someone helps junseo open up about the source of his issue and is another beneficiary & positive influence, or they’re his go to for partying, for drinking, for binging til he blacks out

trainees/idols that knew his sister - his sister that died in a car crash which gave him his stutter, that was close to debut, whose death is the reason he drinks so much and he basically ran away from a home full of incomplete memories. maybe they asked his parents for his info to catch up, to find closure of their own in junseo. this could be anything !

aoyun

hobby buddies !! aoyun, as much as he is in utter love with the stars, is also fascinated by the humanity in hobbies. the utter care & focus people give to one hobby, to developing a craft. and so when he’s not stargazing, when he’s not working, when he’s filled to the brim with a wonder and fascination befitting of the stars, he’s picking up every hobby out there. and fortunately, or unforunately for your muse, they’re dragged along

hojin

fwb & unrequited love (?). hojin has never been able to distinguish between platonic and romantic love, sharing affection so freely that people have given him looks with how shameless & giving he is of it. so give him one of his friends he’s fallen into bed with one night, who have a thing together, who don’t put labels because, as hojin always says, ‘who needs labels for fun’

fan and content creator interactions ! hojin regularly puts out animated shorts & clips, of what-ifs from movies & shows & books & games. and maybe your muse has been following him for some time, and finally reaches out. and hojin knows his animations are enjoyed but to this extent ? he’s so starstruck himself that he’s going to eagerly keep reaching out !

kyungmin

apartment neighbor plots ! literally anything but romantic/sexual plots ! give me kyungmin constantly saying hello by leaving a plate of freshly baked cookies, or a container of still warm soup on your muse’s doorstep without ever saying hello. give me kyungmin slipping notes under their door because he speaks slow & soft & quiet and would rather write than speak. give me eventually meeting & becoming friends ! literally anything and everything

hosung

pen pals !!! hosung has always had trouble making friends, ever since he was sent to public school and was shunned for his parents’ deep pockets. so he took to the internet, took to coding, to hacking, to pass the school years by. and along the way, he’s made a friend, one who is probably across the world, one who knows he suffers from chronic night terrors and is a walking corpse half the time. but oh, would ya look at that, they live in the same country, the same city!

'i’m no one, i didn’t do this !’ uh-oh, hosung takes a job that he doesn’t think twice about, that is just a paycheck to feed his cat and keep the lights on at home. but the person who asks him to hack & deliver classified files ( whether it’s your muse or an NPC ) turns on him and suddenly hosung is on the run. or he’s trying to prove his innocence. this poor, sleep-deprived boy just wants to get through his life simply, and yet he’s thrown headfirst into the dark underbelly of the world

daeho

childhood friends !!! whether his best friend from elementary school or one of his close friends from before, who can recognize how wildly different he is now, who only remembers him as a happy go lucky kid. so who the hell is this uncaring, mask-wearing guy ? what happened to daeho ?

partner in crime ! daeho doesn’t partner up often, if at all, but he’s a greedy thing and can never say no to a guarantee score. maybe your muse is just the perfect partner, one of the only ones daeho will seek out again for another crime, something bigger & bolder & grander ( bonus points this turns bonnie & clyde esque uwu )

minjun

occasional collabers ! minjun is a busker, most time, and can only earn so much money with just his soft crooning vocals and his adequate guitar playing. so give him another busker, one who dances while he sings, one who plays other instruments. hell, give him a crew of buskers that he joins or forms until they become their own thing

odd time job friends ! busking only provides so much, so minjun takes up odd jobs everywhere they’re available. maybe they met while doing the graveyard shift at some tiny mart that doesn’t even need one night guard, let alone 2. or maybe they met when the pizza place sent out 2 delivery people. or maybe they always take the same shifts

someone in the idol life ! a scouter, a CEO, a trainee, an idol, a manager, anyone ! give me someone who saw minjun sing, who knew he’d be good for stardom, who is having the damnedest time trying to scout minjun because minjun doesn’t want to be famous like that. he doesn’t want to be an idol, he refuses

chunyu

looking for: model ! chunyu’s muse, chunyu’s inspiration, chunyu’s subject. give him a close friend who models for him, who he helps reach fame and grander connections all thanks to his camerawork, his mind

looking for: hiking/exploration partner ! chunyu’s muse comes from beyond people, from beyond humanity, stemming from nature and its beauty and its intricate idiosyncrasies. he gets so lost in exploring that he winds up bruised easily, so please save this photographing loser from bruising himself further

looking for: best friend :( his go to, the one he always turns to when parents are asking if he’d change his mind and decided to join their organization, the one he always takes to charity galas when his boyfriend isn’t free, the one who knows how much he wants to be a good son and not the sure disappointment he must be to parents who wanted him to be a philanthropist like they

kwangsu

carefree to kwangsu’s stressed - kwangsu rarely lets his hair down, so to speak, too stressed about law school, about becoming a lawyer as soon as he can, about his studies. so give him a close friend who can coax him to relax, who takes him out to carnivals and amusement parks just to see him laugh genuinely. and maybe his stress & studious habits rub off a bit

choi kwangsu, that name is awfully familiar.... give me someone who recognizes his name from old newspapers, from that one case of a corrupt lawyer whose shady dealings lead to his only son being kidnapped. maybe your muse is the kid of one of those shady people, maybe your muse is the kid of the officer who rescued kwangsu, maybe your muse is just a fan of old crime cases

hyunjun

streaming buddies ! hyunjun’s a growing twitch streamer and always features friends in his streams. maybe your muse is a friend he coaxed into joining one, or maybe your muse is another streamer that fans asked for a collab, or maybe your muse and hyunjun has started up a playful rivalry

frat bros ! frat bros for life, frat bros ride or die together. honestly, hyunjun is super close with his big and grand big in the frat house, and he’d be utterly lost in college if not for them taking him under his wing. give him his big, his grand big, give him one of his other frat bros

opposites attract, sorta ? hyunjun is the chillest frat bro you will ever meet, and a major social butterfly to boot ! he has friends in what feels like every major, every grade, hell even in the other frats and sororities. so give me a muse who is the opposite of frat bro, someone that hyunjun goes to for help with anything not video game development related, or who always study together, or who became friends b/c hyunjun was drunk that one time and tried making pizza rolls and set off the fire alarm

insu

a regular - insu never takes regular customers, enjoying the change of pace, enjoying the presence of different hands on his body, enjoying the comfort and security and sick fun in dropping someone whose time and money isn’t worth it anymore. but maybe your muse has thick pockets that insu is only too eager to dip his fingers into. or maybe your muse has his most recent of addictions in easy access, both easy encouragements to sticking around.

[rkmason]

▰▰▰▰▰▰ MNET GLOBAL AUDITIONS, SEASON 5 ˟  EP. 2 PERFORMANCE ▰▰▰▰▰▰

memories come flooding back the him the more he goes through the motions of the competition. he remembers asking luna for her opinion on his stage outfits so far, on what he ought to go for next, running into someone he didn’t know would become his sunbae in nova to ask something similar: how to step up his fashion game other than stealing from ty’s closet, something his roommate at the time was bound to notice when they competed on the same reason, on the same stage.

walking into the set for the next round, with its new layout, its less crowded layout, it feels bittersweet. he’s already lost a few friends from the last round to this one and he lets out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding onto. compared to last week, he realizes it’s better to show his nervousness, to show weakness, but it’s a concept he has to become comfortable with. [he won’t grow otherwise, will stop changing if he doesn’t.]

his palms are sweaty and he still isn’t done using the same tired ass joke about eminem and 8 mile, as if he focuses on it to keep his own spirits up instead. maybe he needs to. because he heard about how his appearance was edited, how it looked, how he seemed too casual for someone coming back after debuting once already, acting like he didn’t leave two companies by now. patting his hands on his pants, he takes another deep breath, looks around for a familiar face.

when she walks in, sakura comes by to greet him and he feels calmer, sated, relaxed again for a moment because seeing sakura reminds him of seeing his little brother again, makes him feel as if he’s seeing his own little sister. he hugs her back, gives her wishes of good luck and affirmation that she’ll do great but saying that to her, seeing the chairs surrounding them remind him this is a competition and it could come down to them in the rapping category. she’s someone he wouldn’t want to go against because he’d feel weakened by it and it reminds him of the conversations he’s had since they left the set last week.

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀  PAUSE, REWIND ⭯

“hey dabin—”

“not right now, hyung.”

“oh, okay. yeah, later then.”

he’d stopped by the apartment dabin shared with seik and it didn’t feel like home the way it used to a few years ago before he moved where he is now. it didn’t feel like he could crash on their sofa again and wake up to seik scolding dabin for not telling him when they ran out of something in the kitchen again. everything had its own routine back then, when things were simpler, but not anymore.

seik walks out of his room, hair messy after waking up from his nap because of a particular door slam. “he still upset?”

“…yeah.”

“he’ll get over it.”

“feels different this time.”

“maybe he’s jealous.”

“what?”

chuckling, seik quirks his brows, pouring himself a glass of water and sitting on the edge of the kitchen table. he looks more amused than minho thinks anyone should be when his friends are at odds like this. his exasperation only grows as seik doesn’t speak just yet, taking sips until he finishes, accented by the loud ahh he lets out, the clink of the glass in the sink the only sound until minho’s patience wears out.

“come on, man. explain yourself.”

“you didn’t make the same offer.”

brows furrowing, his face twists in confusion as he follows seik to the living room. “what offer?”

“to give your spot to him.” this time, he’s the one who goes silent and all he can manage is wetting his lips, eyes widening every once in a while before returning to their previous state, just more hesitant in expression.

“i get it.” seik’s voice is softer this time, almost apologetic, the past coming back to him too. “but to dabin… the hyung he followed for so long, the one he defends every time…”

“yeah.” minho doesn’t sound like himself when he says it, nodding his head, fists clenched at his side, and, instead of going to dabin’s room, he leaves the apartment quietly.

going to the only other place he knows as well, the other place he’s as comfortable in on his own, he goes to the dance studio they rent for Kill.U.Strate. it’s empty today, not in as much use as before when they practically lived there now that the guys’ projects began to split off, and he lays there. eyes closed, hands folded on his stomach, legs crossed at his ankles, he just lays there.

he doesn’t have any answers for his family, for his friends, and the joy that he found after finding out he moved on, after getting that call from mijoo when she watched the episode air and hearing her cry because of him again but for a good reason, that joy is slipping from his fingers again. he doesn’t know what to say to kikwang either when he comes into the practice room and he’s sitting up, letting out a slight groan because he’d been in that position for too long. the smallest things could affect your back and posture after all. he should’ve been more careful.

not much has to be said and he’s glad kikwang is a good enough friend to join him, to talk like things are normal, and to not skip a beat when minho asks, “do you wish i could give you my spot on the show?”

“i meant what i texted you. i want you to win this season, hyung.” they spend some time in the practice room just hanging out, dancing a little, before kikwang says it’s all his so he can prepare for the next episode filming. he can’t get a protest out in time before kikwang’s gone and he’s running his fingers through his hair, sighing as he looks around, the room only seeming more glum when he’s alone.

there’s no progress when the door opens an hour later and the last person he expected to come in walks through. there’s a cap over his head, shielding half his face, but minho would recognize him anywhere. sure, some of his friends remind him of his younger brother but, on days like this, dabin pretty much is minho’s little brother and he’s gesturing for him to come over. the hug is brief and dabin sighs as he stands in front of the older.

“i don’t want you to give me your spot.”

“i know.”

“so if y— wait… you know?”

“yeah.”

“seik told you.” dabin gets the same answer and he inhales sharply, exhales slowly. “i thought that’s why you left the apartment without saying anything. i thought you were gonna go…”

the thought is there even if the sentence is left hanging, words dabin doesn’t seem to want to say, and minho shakes his head as he puts a hand on dabin’s shoulder. “i care about ya as much as i did jaebum back then but… i’m not planning on giving my spot up for anyone this time.”

“okay.”

“you jus’ sayin’ that or are you okay with it?”

“i’m good.”

narrowing his eyes, he wraps an arm around dabin’s neck, pulling him closer. “so… you thought it meant i like jaebum more than you?”

“hyung.”

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ PRESS PLAY, BACK TO THE SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING

finding a seat proves more difficult than he thought it would be and when more people settle in, minho realizes he needs to figure out what he’s doing soon. although he could sit near sakura and talk to her, he knows she’s there with friends and that he’d end up distracted. besides, when people were still convinced he broke his contract for dating without his own confirmation, he doesn’t want to add fuel to the fire. instead, he goes another route, ends up recognizing someone from their performance last time and how he liked their vibe.

so he’s standing near them, calling out and going, “hey do you have ig? let me add you” because he’s thought of the first face-to-face impression he wants to make and is committed to it as stupid as it is. the name is given to him and he types it in as quickly as he was told, opening the messages and sending him one.

can i slide into that seat next to you like i slid into ur dms

the laugh he gets is enough of an answer for him to sit down with a proud grin, laughing at himself. even if he told himself not to brush everything off, to not laugh everything off, there are some moments that ought’a be like this. his instagram is distinguishable enough to him as he gets comfy in his new seat and this time he’s the one that bursts into laughter when ian says to him, “anyone ever tell you that you’re a thirst trap?” definitely not the first time and minho shares that sentiment before opening his phone to look at ian’s posts too. it was a good distraction in the meantime but when it appears all the sears are filled, he feels the nerves building up again, his thoughts wander and they go back further than he should let them.

he had a wounded ego years ago. thought too much of himself and his future and yet not enough. a dream to be someone of influence but not decisive enough to follow through, ill-educated about life in general. there are days he still doesn’t feel ready but no one wants to know about that. at least, that’s what he’s told himself for years. no one wants a gloomy gus. no one wants to hang out with the weird kid in the back sulking over the lack of acknowledgment by his father. no one wants to be the friend of someone who dwells too much in the past instead of making sure every moment is a good time. that was the lesson he insisted on from a young age. on days that his brother was too busy, that her sister was annoyed by everything, days when his mother was too tired to cook, days that his little brother whines for someone to play with, he knew what his role was. a mood-maker, a mood-lifter.

the performances he gave years ago were bits and pieces of him, scraps sewn together by a beginner. this song feels more complex, more complete, each thread and stitch made by someone more honest with himself. because it’s okay not to feel like the best sometimes. because he told the audience back then not to let anyone convince them otherwise and ignored that the person who told him that most was himself; the one that convinced him he wasn’t the best he could be was always him.

his mother called him the same night he’d talked to kikwang and dabin in the practice room and his mind is still hazy, he can’t think coherently about a song or anything. whether he should dance or not, but just before that hung up that day, his mother said something he’s brought with him today, on his mind, in his heart, lyrics dancing around in his head, ready to spill from a thirsty mouth— thirsty to tell the truth, to put his truth out there. “don’t keep everything inside.”

when he first heard about the comments, was told about them, read them himself, he thought he should just let it go, push his heart back into its proper place when it lodged itself in his throat. two minutes, two minutes to show who he is again, and answer the concerns that’d been brought up. answers, answers, answers.

in school, we’re taught the same. find the right answer. every time, find the right answer but he doesn’t follow that. rules in black and white, but he operates in shades of gray. that’s how he finds his next song. a simple beat, but lyrics with a powerful message. this isn’t for his ex-group members, for his parents, for his siblings, for his girlfriend, or for his friends. this is for his own clarity by letting his heart purge. instead of layering it with band-aids, wrapping it to be kept safe, he lets his heart bleed onto the page. he adds color to his own world.

                   ●●●●●●      NEXT ON STAGE, CHOI MINHO,  EP. 2 — 7월 4일      ●●●●●●

one more time today, his hands are sweaty. no eminem joke. it doesn’t even cross his mind because his heart is climbing, racing as it tries to scale his throat, and he swallows thickly, wills himself to breathe.

shit, just breathe.

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ 탓 BLAME ♫ SELF-WRITTEN TIME STAMPS    ( IN ORDER )   0:20 to 1:10   /   1:20 to 1:26   /   1:48 to 2:15   /   3:02 to 3:29   NOTE: his gestures and expressions are similar to that of vinxen’s in the video if not written !

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ 난 이 ��에 있어 난 이 늪에 있어 I’M IN THIS SWAMP, I’M IN THIS SWAMP

모두가 날 내려다보는 이 늪에 있어 I’M IN THIS SWAMP WHERE EVERYBODY IS LOOKING DOWN

넌 내 옆에 있어 주기를 바랬던 마음 I JUST WISHED YOU WERE NEXT TO ME

아직 선명히 남아있어 등 돌리던 날 BUT IT’S STILL VERY CLEAR, THE DAY YOU BETRAYED (ME)

나 혼자 늪에 있어 혼자 늪에 있어 I’M ALONE IN THIS SWAMP, ALONE IN THIS SWAMP

저 네티즌가 날 비웃고 하늘 날고 있어 THESE NETIZENS* ARE MAKING FUN OF ME, FLYING UP HIGH

난 알고 있어 애초에 알고 있었어 I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT FROM THE BEGINNING

흐려져가는 시야를 탓하고 있어 I BLAME (IT ON) MY BLURRY VISION ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

nothing confirmed, but it’s easier to believe anything that way, isn’t it? it didn’t matter if sphere spared him the scandal, spared the group the scandal, it would follow him and being lonely has to be about his love life. his age. the audacity he has to come back. how he should be giving other people a shot. he’s seen it all and instead of letting it go, he wears it on his sleeve. he lets the weight of his own guilt show instead of hiding it away with i’m okay and i’m gonna do me like he’s been saying since he walked out of the company one last time.

he stops pretending that he wasn’t hurt by the fact that he did know who outed his relationship, that he did know who wanted to see him fall.

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ 난 이 늪에 있어 난 이 늪에 있어 I’M IN THIS SWAMP, I’M IN THIS SWAMP

아주 더럽고도 추잡한 이 늪에 있어 I’M IN THIS SWAMP FULL OF TRASH*

냄새도 못 맡을 정도로 떨어져 멀리 GO AWAY SO YOU CAN’T SMELL ME

보이지도 않니 손에 미세한 떨림 CAN’T YOU SEE MY FINGERS SHAKING

넌 변해있어 많이 변해있어 YOU CHANGED A LOT, YOU CHANGED A LOT

나란 그늘을 치우니 안색이 밝아졌어 AS I REMOVED MY SHADE FROM YOU, YOU LOOKED OKAY

위로 혹은 악연으로 포장해낸 것들이 PLEASE BLAME ME FOR WHAT HAPPENED

내 탓이라고 말해줘 제발 EVEN THOUGH IT LOOKS LIKE MISFORTUNE ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

when he left, he told himself he was laying in the bed he made and it’s why as he raps, he can’t make eye contact, can’t look directly at anyone. he’s avoiding people and it was a tell-tale sign that he wasn’t okay, a sign he ignored for months because he kept busy, said he didn’t see people as often because he was working but it was more than that. he didn’t know how to feel.

it was still his fault in the end. still because of him that he had to leave. reckless, stupid, all the insults he had for himself in high school chase him to this stage again, try to stain the page with spilled ink, with trash, but he holds the pen, keeps it held high the same way he holds onto the microphone.

the news article said he chose to depart from the group. it was right. he just didn’t know how far back the decision was that sealed his fate.

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ [NEW HANGUL PENDING] THOUGHT IT WAS UNFAIR THAT NO MATTER HOW HARD

[NEW HANGUL PENDING] TRAINEES AND IDOLS DO, IT’S NOT ENOUGH

확실히 압살하고자 아빠 손 벌려 잡은 지하방에서 손꼽아 기다리고 있어 FOR MY COMPLETE VICTORY, I WAIT IN THE ROOM I BOUGHT WITH THE MONEY MY DAD GAVE ME

난 기대치를 두 배로 올려 I DOUBLE MY EXPECTATIONS

그래야 상실감이 거대해지니까 SO I CAN DISAPPOINT BADLY

그래야 사람이 더 초라해지니까 SO I CAN FEEL MORE MISERABLE

그래야 내가 정말 간절해지니까 SO I AM MORE DESPERATE

아니 얼마나 더 간절해야 합니까 NO, HOW CAN I LOOK EVEN MORE DESPERATE?

박수 갈채는 누굴 위한 겁니까 WHO IS THE APPLAUSE FOR ?

대학에 가라는 아버지 말을 웃어넘기고 대충 끄덕거린 나는 불효자 되는 겁니까? I LAUGHED AND NODDED AT MY DAD* WHEN HE SAID I SHOULD GO TO UNIVERSITY*, AND DOES THAT MAKE ME A BAD SON? ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

there’s so much in life that was given to him and nearly everything left unsaid. how miserable he was about the competitive lifestyle when he was in nova, how he felt left out at times but pretended he was fine. the truth about how he felt when how he told his friends he didn’t mind that they were moving onto bigger and better projects without him, how his family was living their lives without him, how he was missing everything, how he couldn’t see his girlfriend for months, how he felt like life was still being decided for him and he had no clue what the hell he was doing.

he goes here and there, only says no sometimes, and none of it feels right because he’s not saying a damn thing. underneath everything else, underneath the rules he follows, the routine he keeps to, the predictable patterns he lives by, he let himself be defined by black and white, then wondered why he was unhappy living without color, without doing whatever he could to paint everything himself.

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ 주변에 대입해 그런진 몰라도   I THINK I MESSED* UP MY OWN LIFE

볼수록 뭣같이 느껴져서 MAYBE BECAUSE I COMPARE MY LIFE WITH THE OTHERS

내가 날 가둬둔 상황이 위안이 돼 BLAMING MYSELF FOR EVERYTHING COMFORTS ME

아직 말해줄 게 많아서 BECAUSE I STILL HAVE A LOT TO SAY

모르겠네 사람들이 피해 보인 탓 DON’T KNOW WHY I STARTED TO AVOID* PEOPLE

몰라 내가 이 노래를 불러버린 탓 DON’T KNOW WHY I STARTED SINGING THIS SONG

몰라 내가 한심하고 어이 없는 탓 DON’T KNOW WHY I AM PATHETIC AND DON’T HAVE NERVE*

몰라 내가 여러 기회들을 날린 탓 DON’T KNOW WHY I BLEW MY CHANCES AWAY ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

it could’ve started years ago, when he found out things about his past, when he didn’t get into trc on his first audition, when he was rejected the first time by mijoo, when he fought with seik for the first time about being an idol. every time he didn’t take a call from his brother. every time he let himself go this way or that way during training without any real aim or purpose. he did this to himself. that must be why he ended up in rap unit instead of dance unit in convex. his roots are no longer his and he’s not seen as a dancer. training made him a rapper and he secretly let it make him miserable instead of embracing it like he does now, his voice wrecked with emotion as he starts to yell. the peak of the song and he puts the mic stand behind him, mic in his hand as he shouts.

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ 모르겠네 사람들이 피해 보인 탓 DON’T KNOW WHY I STARTED TO AVOID* PEOPLE

몰라 내가 이 노래를 불러버린 탓 DON’T KNOW WHY I STARTED SINGING THIS SONG

몰라 내가 한심하고 어이 없는 탓 DON’T KNOW WHY I AM PATHETIC AND DON’T HAVE NERVE*

몰라 내가 여러 기회들을 날린 탓 DON’T KNOW WHY I BLEW MY CHANCES AWAY ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

he’s social. friendly. a moodmaker. he tells himself this again. everything that made him come as far as he did, all the positive traits he showed off and every negative thing he hid. that’s what he considers different this season. he’ll show all of it. he’ll lay it all out so that he can finally be himself too, so he can leave and be a performer again instead of just going through the motions, filling whatever spot he needs to. the stage feels covered in color, his yells were red, his tears were blue, and when he places the mic back on the stand, bowing deeply, he makes sure to take those colors, his favorite colors, with him, so that his heart doesn’t just bleed but heals.

PROFILE / SKILLS / AUDITION / EPISODE 1 ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ EP. 2: PERFORMANCE / INTERVIEW